Western Union Hell

I recently had my family loan me a sum of money while I wait for funds ties up in Canada to liquidate, as they did not do so before I left.  This alone was a point of stress,  as we arrived here in Paris with very little cash on hand, and discovered I am paid only once per month with the next cheque 3 weeks away.

To facilitate a quick and easy transfer of money from Canada to France I provided my family with all my banking information for my new account here in France.  They could then take this information to their bank and wire over the money directly into my account with ease.  Of course, I forgot to take into account the "Calgary" factor in the equation.  Upon my family presenting a complete set of international banking information required for the transfer they said informed my family that they didn't know what to do with this information and could not send a wire. 

Seriously?  Your a bank,  all you do is deal with money.  It's not as though they had requested immediate dental surgery in the bank manager's office.  No, instead they refused to provide them with essentially what is their only service; facilitate their banking needs.

I was left with the visual image in my mind of sterotypical cowboy behind a bankers desk, laying out with a heavy drawl "Well golly ma'am, I just dunno what to do with all there here confounded numbers you be showin' me". 

So, the options at this point were Western Union, or a Fed Ex envelope full of cash.   At first blush you would think that the second of the two is the wrong choice, and that instead you should go to the company who's entire business the sending and receiving of money around the world.  You would be wrong, and here is why:

After consulting with the Western Union website, I discovered the nearest location to my office (according to the WU website search, which would, days later, reveal two locations significantly closer) and informed my sender of it's location.  When they sent the money they were told "He will be able to pick it up at any location". 

The next day after the transfer is sent i proceed to take an early lunch and head to the predetermined location, a "Le Banque Postale", a post office bank with a Western Union agent badge and sign on the outside.  Upon arriving I stand in line at wait.  Since this is a post office & bank, there are a number of people in line all wanting to do different things. Two men in front of me each step up to a teller.  One begins dealing with post concerns, buying stamps and mailing letters.   The second looks to be receiving a western union transfer, which is an encouraging sign.  They are occupying the only two tellers in the branch. 

The second appears to become impatient, pacing away from the window and back again during each pause in the conversation with the teller.  Eventually he is passed some money under the thick security glass, but this does not satisfy him.  He begins to talk loudly to the teller, eventually devolving into screams of frustration.   I am left to assume that he has not been given the amount of money he expects.  This is not an encouraging development.

The man buying stamps finishes his business and I attempt to take his teller.  Before I am able to make my move though the argument is put to an end at the other teller as she barricades her window with a clipboard.  This sends our angry man into orbit and he throws a tantrum, now firmly directed at the second teller.  I am unable to access either teller now.  After a few minutes the irate man settles into a loud discussion with his new teller, prompting the other teller to unblock her window. 

I proceed to communicate I need to receive a Western Union transfer, at which point she hands me a form I must fill out and directs me to leave her window to fill it out.  I have a pressing appointment shortly, so I try to communicate that I will be quick, but she understandably wants to move the line.  I step to the side (wishing these forms were available while waiting in line), fill out the form in a minute, turn around and find that the line now snakes back the the door.

I step back into line, wait and watch the man continue to yell and throw things at the window until I cannot wait any longer.   I have to be at my bank in only a few minutes to pickup my chequebook before they close for lunch.  (yes, banques here close for lunch. I'm not sure when salarymen are expected to do their banking, but that's another story).  I need to get my cheques and meet my relocation agent to sign over a cheque to her for her services, some €3,000+ which is thankfully covered by the government.  However she can only meet me at precisely 11:45, and I have left the post office at 11:35, some 7 or 8 blocks away.

I begin to jog.  I am not a jogger by nature or by capability, and it's always a possibility I am going to severly twist (or even break) my bad ankle when I run, so I don't do it often.   However I am compelled to make sure I meet here exactly on time, pedestrian traffic has other ideas on the matter.  There is a sidewalk market setup for almost the entire distance between two locations, so it's wall to wall people and I spend as much time dodging people on the sidewalk as I do street traffic, as it becomes easier and quicker to run in traffic.

I make it, at exactly 11:45 and she hasn't arrived yet, giving me a chance to pop into the bank and get my chequebook. It takes only a moment and I return outside to cool down and catch my breath while I wait.  She is 15 minutes late and in no real hurry at all once she does arrive.  *sigh.  Papers are signed, a cheque changes hands and I am still poor, having a short tempered frenchman to blame for gumming up the works at the post office.

I am forced to return to the office as everything closes over lunch and plan to find a location tomorrow, as I will have the entire Saturday to do so.  As it turns out, there is a post office bank that is open until noon about 15 minutes away from my new apartment.  This is the plan I settle on.

The next day Aja and I sleep in a little, so we don't arrive at the bank until 11:30, and it's packed.  I wait in line for a while before a post office worker begins filtering through the line asking what everyone needs.  He comes to me, and he explains as best he can that it is too late for them to sign over the money today.  He suggests I go to another Western Union Agent nearby (a 40 minutes walk in the opposite direction) and we have no choice but to set out.

We stop an an internet cafe as we head back to find the location of the agents, both are open until 7pm.  We get groceries, head home and have some lunch.  After lunch we set out again, eventually locating the first agent.  The business has changed names from the one listedon the Western Union site, but still bears the WU agent badge and signs.  He refuses to even discuss receiving a transfer and points us in the direction of the other agent nearby, a couple blocks away.  Upon arriving there he looks at my form, sees the amount and refuses to cash it in stating that is it 3 times his "maximum limit".   So much for being able to pick up a transfer at any branch.

By now the day is spent and so are our legs.  We hike back up the long hill to our house and pack it in.  Still poor.   Sunday is a wash, nothing is open Sundays.  Monday I am not feeling well and stay home.  I later in the day decide I'm feeling a well enough to walk around and we set out to the post office near our house again.  They are open all day, so we have plenty of time.  We wait in line, speak with a teller and are refused.  It is too much money for them to cash.

It is at this point I begin to deeply question the nature of this postal bank.  The agent says I need to go to a different WU agent in a nearby shopping district, 30 minutes away by bus.  Having no other option, we set out again.  Returning to the cyber cafe near our home to find the address of this WU agent.  I am greeted by the Western Union website, which I have come to loathe, and it informs me that in the area I have been directed to there are a number of agents, all located within branches of "le banque postale".  I am not amused by this development and wonder if I will ever actually get my money out of a company that does nothing other than send money to people.

We proceed to the shopping district, and find the next location, another postal bank.  A staggeringly long line fills the small branch to the brim, and while waiting in this line I come to one conclusion; They are not going to give me money.  This postal bank location differs from the others I have been in, as it has no heavy-duty security glass separating the clients from the employees.  It seems obvious to me they are even less equipped to deal with money transfers if they do not have this level of security, but I wait, since I have no other choice. 

We finally make it to the front of the line and speak with an agent after what seems like an eternity in that hot, sweaty line.  He speaks only a small amount of English, but delivers the expected message;  sorry, I cannot give you this much money.  He however attempts to relate how we can find our money with more effort and detail than the previous "go to some other distant part of town and be someone else's problem" lines we had been given in various flavours.  He tells us there is an actual Western Union branch, not just an agent in another business, nearby.  However he finds it very difficult to describe where it is due to the language barrier.  We have no familiarity with area making us no help to his efforts, but he presses on, gesturing and talking before finally drawing us a map on a slip of note paper.

It turns out there in the nearby Auchan (a large grocery chain) the branch resides.  After a little struggling to interpret the directions given to us we find it, and after FOUR days (three of which were spent almost entirely walking) we are finally delivered our money.  The promise told to my sender of "He'll be able to pick it up at any location" was a blatant lie to hurry the sender out the door after the money was in their hands.

Annoyed and exhausted we finally finished a task that should have taken an hour or two.  What's the moral of the story?   if you have to send any significant amount of money, insist your banker get his act together and learn how to send an international wire transfer, cause it's their fucking job.