Wards & Banks

I have been encountering some further points of frustration over the last couple of days in my ongoing quest for a bank account. The biggest step forward having been achieved in gaining permanent residence in a sharehouse. I then just needed to proceed down to my local ward office and register my change of address, or so I thought. It turned out, after some very broken Japanese/English conversation between me and the very helpful girl at the ward office, that in trying to be organised in Kyoto and starting the process that I had actually slowed it down. They now had to send to Kyoto for my details, and it would take a week for them to arrive. I offered to go to Kyoto and pick up my forms, this was not possible. I offered to go to Kyoto and cancel my registration to reapply here in Osaka, this was not possible. All I could do was wait, in the full knowledge that I had shot myself in the foot. Devastating. This was Monday.

Today, not being able to stand it any longer, I went back down to the ward office just in case a miracle had occurred. To my great astonishment, my helpful girl, recognised me with a smile, and brought me not only the forms that I needed for the bank, but my Alien Registration card which was not meant to be ready for another two weeks. Winner. Friday the Thirteenth, not so unlucky for me.

With my paperwork in hand, and viewing the success at the ward office as a bit of an omen, onwards I travelled to the bank. I had a fair wait, but when I sat down the lady at the counter worked quickly confirming all my details. Passport, check. Alien Registration card, check, Address, check. Japanese phone number, what? Foiled. I cannot open a bank account now without a Japanese phone number, I felt utterly defeated. It is the second time now that I have been so close, so close to my bank account, that I can smell the sweet aroma of my little Yen inside, just to have my hopes dashed. So I did what any rational person would do in this particular situation, I burst into tears, only a few, but tears none the less, right there in the bank. Very embarrassing, I wish I could tell you it had been otherwise, but no, I had the ultimate girl reaction. Some Warrior Woman I proved to be.

Seconds later, when I had left the branch, the sobs ebbed, Minutes later, when I had walked to the train, my resolve was formed. I will tackle the bank again tomorrow, with the number for Pizza Hut if I have to, I will get my account. I will not be beaten.