Culturally Swiss

Lisa and I moved here too late in life to ever really be culturally Swiss.  Sure, we share many of the characteristics that are considered Swiss (follow rules, habitually on time, fiscally conservative) but these are personality traits that we arrived with and which partly explain why we’re so comfortably happy here.  Paige, on the other hand, has developed into a veritable Heidi.  For her, we’ll never know whether it was nature or nurture but she’s as Swiss as they come.  Should we apply for Swiss citizenship, there’s a requirement to demonstrate assimilation and she’s our ringer.    Speaks perfect dialect?  Check.  Member of several local clubs?  Check.  Drinks Rivella voluntarily?  Check.  Participates in Fasnacht?  Double check ( five year member of a clique).   Really the only non-Swiss behavior she exhibits is that she answers the phone by saying “Hello”.  You’ll hear no “Crump” barked out when calling our home.   

Banking

Earlier this year, Paige completed the  two day Red Cross babysitting course, hung up her shingle and opened her babysitting practice.  In the few months since, her outrageous fees have allowed her to accumulate Breaking Bad quantities of cash in her nightstand so I decided  recently that the time had come for her to open her first bank account.  Since this is not a “drop in” activity here, I made an appointment for us to meet with a client advisor at UBS.   Why UBS?  As American citizens,  we have to go with one of the big banks still willing to deal with the paperwork and risks that accompany us as a result of the new US banking laws.   While just a thirteen year old babysitter, Paige’s assets would be subject to the same IRS scrutiny faced by the international arms merchants, drug dealers and financiers who launder their billions through the Swiss banking system.  So, last week we  presented ourselves  at the appointed time in the giant marble UBS lobby, a space large enough to host a volleyball tournament, only to learn that the advisor was not yet available.  In hushed tones, we were directed upstairs where we were met by a nice lady who ushered us into a bright, sunny meeting room before offering drinks and cookies to ease the inconvenience.   It worked for Paige.  She’s still young enough to be bought off by a Coke.    Me, I was just annoyed.    After roughly twenty minutes,  our client advisor showed up,  accompanied by a trainee.   He asked if it was okay to involve a trainee and I replied truthfully that it was.  In fact, I thought it was a good opportunity for Paige to witness how the young man interacted with us as he dealt with his nervousness.  She could very well be in a similar situation herself someday, a day that would arrive much too soon for my emotional well-being.     After introductions, the trainee worked his way through the presentation, stumbling at some points and receiving guidance from his mentor.   I seeded Paige with a few questions to ask and, oblivious to the disrespect inherent in their tardiness, she felt grown up and important.  At the conclusion of the presentation, there were several forms to sign so we did this and handed them over along with our passports and permits.  They told us it would take half an hour to file the documents so we left to walk around a bit outside and enjoy the nice spring day.   After thirty minutes we returned and were shown back to the nice meeting room where we waited for what turned out to be forty-five minutes.   What had happened to the famous Swiss punctuality I wondered, once again annoyed.  Eventually, the advisor and his sidekick showed up, apologizing somewhat perfunctorily, before returning our passports and completed account forms.   In the end, while I was left unimpressed by their lack of respect for our time, we got it done and Paige was the proud owner of her very own Swiss bank account.   Interestingly, during the closing pleasantries, the advisor asked whether I had my mortgage with UBS.  I noted that I didn’t because their rates were high.  He was disappointed to hear this, noting that while their rates are a bit high they strive to make up for this through superior service, a comment that betrayed a surprising tone deafness in light of the experience we’d just had.  I decided not to add that the other reason that I’d not gone with UBS was that the mortgage specialist to whom I’d forwarded our information had never called me back.