Bank Adventure

For the first time, I randomly received a 100 Euro bill from the ATM. The giant green bill was neat to hold, knowing that the flimsy piece of paper that I was clenching in my hand was worth around 150 dollars. However, my puerile ecstasy quickly evaporated when I remembered the difficulty I would ensue while attempting to find a store that would accept this bill. Most stores do not even break fifties, so using this bill on a random purchase was out of the question. My only option was to enter a bank and change the bill there.

Of course, this was quite the experience. I nervously opened the door at the entrance, simply hoping that the teller would speak English, which would alleviate some of the hassle. Little did I know that the potential language barrier would have no impact on my first time in an Italian bank. As I grabbed a numbered ticket and waited in line, I was glad to see that there was only one man in front of me. When number 164 was announced, the middle-aged man calmly approached the teller. I only had fifteen mintues before class started, so I hoped this would be a swift transaction.

The oppisite occurred. The conversation between the two Italians was initially cordial, but the situation promptly turned sour. Within two minutes, the customer began yelling at the teller. The teller responded while yelling louder. Then the customer started to pound his fist on the desk, which meant the teller had to increase his voice one more decibel. Through it all, no one else in the bank budged. They continued with their work, like this was a normal occurance. Usually in the States, if something turns this ugly a manager comes and intervenes. I have also never seen a worker yell back at a customer either, so this was a completely shocking experience.

After about ten minutes of yelling, I realized that I was low on time and this argument made no progress. I had to leave for class, and hope that next time I try to break my bill I will not encounter this again.