So, I’m vacationing the beautiful Basque country and the thought strikes me: Since I’m here so often, a local bank account would be practical for everyday dealings such as paying bills. Some time ago, I established an account in BBVA, which call themselves “The digital bank” for some weird reason. I can’t really imagine a bank in 2015 that is no digital, but there is probably some not-so-clever marketing behind the slogan.
Anyway, since the account I had was never actually used and money never deposited, I forgot about it. When trying to deposit some money, it was impossible to log in online and the account just disappeared from my mind.
Fast forward a couple of years, and I find myself in need of a Spanish bank account to transfer some €s. I go to the bank, with the proper passport, and find that they have no trace of me ever being a customer. Apparently, if the account is vacant for more than half a year, it is simply cancelled and you’re no longer a customer. Strange for a Norwegian, where you’re used to having accounts up and down the bank, some with 0,- in them just for kicks.
So, since there is no trace of me ever having been a customer there, I ask to re-open the account. Shouldn’t be a big deal, right? …right? Well, turns out it is a pretty big deal to open an account, and even bigger if you are a slightly out of the ordinary customer.
Spanish passport in hand, the very friendly customer handler told me that a residency permit is needed, or if I didn’t have that, something called a ‘Padrón municipal de habitantes‘, which I have never even heard of. Without that, they cannot help me, even with a Spanish passport. That is a truly weird feeling, since the last time I opened a bank account in a new bank I didn’t even have to walk into a branch office, and not even open my mouth. In fact, that bank have no offices as they operate only online. I just used my cellphone to verify the codes, and off I went with my new account. Can’t even remember the last time I stepped into a branch office before today. Oh, well.
The town hall is just across the street and I popped by to see if this was fixable on a Friday early afternoon. Since the town hall is open only four hours each day (09 to 13), it was now or never. Or until the next visit in a couple of months. The waiting line was short, and the clerk was friendly. He explained that yes, this is a paper you can get from us if you aren’t a permanent resident, and sure we can fix it quickly. “I just need to see an electrical bill with your name and address on it, or a rental agreement”.
Wat.
Isn’t that, you know, kind of, you know, why I’m here? To be able to get an account to pay bills?
“Well, I’m sorry, but you have to show that you live here.” Well, yes, ok. I get that you want to separate residents from tourists. But some of use who spend maybe two months each year here, what about us? And what about the fact that tourists can stay only three months, but the padrón paper is for those who stay up to six months?
Look. It’s not impossible that I might some time in the future settle down here in beautiful Euskadi, not for the pinxtos, not for the weird-ass awesome fiestas, but to work. Really. This kind of ass-backwards bureaucracy, is a representation of the huge hurdles facing people who would like to get things moving, who aren’t really used to or have time to stop and deal with outdated rules. It sounds arrogant, and maybe it is. That doesn’t change the facts that these paper mills are deterrents for settlers, and probably the most attractive kind of settlers.
Looking around, this small run-in with the Spanish bureaucracy is just the tip of the iceberg. I was thinking of maybe, some time in the future, becoming self-employed here but that’s pretty much out of the window after reading about how government here treat them. (Hint: not good.)
After realising that I’m not getting the account today, I took the paper, said my goodbyes to the very polite funcionario (not at all like the one in the video) and met up with my dad for lunch. I told him the story and he looked at me with pity and said: “Why didn’t you just mention my name? I’m a regular customer for years and you’d get the account in no time.”
I see I have much to learn about this country.