First off, apologies again. It's been ages since I managed to find time to sit and blog. Excuses are abundant, and boring, and simply that; excuses. Doesn't help that this morning I accidentally deleted the post that I was about to publish...
A couple of weeks ago I found myself out shopping and performing the final deed of presenting my embarrassingly tattered plastic bank card to the cashier. The plastic on the front cover was peeling off from the corners to the extent that it had already removed my name and half the numbers from the card. The little golden microchip wouldn't be far behind and I had on numerous occasions thought to myself that I really ought to get down to the bank and order a new card. This was "It" though. Push had come to Shove and my card refused to be pushed into the card reader. Despite the cashier's attempts to flatten down the curling and creased plastic, it would not go in. Fortunately there was another option and, in a manner clearly indicating that she had encountered such a broken card before, she pulled the plastic a little further back exposing more of the orange plastic underneath and leaving the area on the reverse of the magnetic strip clear of any curly plastic edges, then, she deftly and purposefully swiped my card through the side of the card reading machine. The realisation hit strong and hard. The time for procrastination (and humiliation!) was over. I needed to get myself a new card.
The following day, I bolted it out of work, jumped in the car and drove to the bank. Most Portuguese banks have a two door system in place, with a swipe card reader on the first door to allow access to the cash machines out of hours and a bell on the second door to allow access to the bank itself. Hmm. With fingers crossed I swiped my card, and with thanks to the cashier from the shop the previous day, the little green light lit up and I pushed the door open. I turned to face the second glass door. I could see inside that there was a man behind the counter and as I pressed the bell he turned toward me and shouted something to me in that special way that people do when they are separated by a sheet of glass. I only caught the words for "closed" and "tomorrow" but I understood what he was trying to say.
The following day I was only working half the day so I succeeded in getting to the bank before it closed. It was quiet inside and I was the only customer, so I approached the desk to speak. I started the conversation in the same way that most of my conversations do, and apologised for not being able to speak Portuguese. The next sentence I had practiced in Portuguese, over and over; "I need a new card, please," and placed my broken and sad looking card on the desk in front of him. "Ok," he said, picking up the card and examining it closely. After that I struggled to keep up in Portuguese and after discovering that he spoke a little English, he repeated what he'd previously said. My replacement card would take between eight and ten days to arrive at my house by post. He looked at his computer screen for a moment, opened a desk drawer, placed my card inside and then told me that in the meantime I would have to use my credit card. I hope that the look of disbelief that spread across my face wasn't to obvious or, worse still, insulting, but I was genuinely expecting to get my card back and be able to carry on using it until my new one arrived, exactly in the manner that these things happen in England. Oh well. That was that. Nothing to do except to "Keep Calm and Carry On" as the saying goes.
A few days after my banking problems were resolved I was driving along the motorway and passed through the Via Verde lane at the toll booth. The usual green light failed to light up on the display and instead an orange one flashed up in it's place. On the way back it did it again. At least it wasn't red. Orange can't be that bad can it? I spoke to a few people at work about this and they seemed to agree. I remember that when I first installed the Via Verde transponder I was told by the lady at the office that it might show up orange for a few days before the system recognises it and I get green lights, but that it was normal and I was not to worry. But that was then, and this is now, and now I was starting to worry. After some scouting around on their website I found an FAQ page where, after some translation, I deduced that the problem was occurring because my transponder in the car's windscreen was attached not to my bank account, but to my specific bank card! A-ha!
There was only one thing to do. Pack up a book, some snacks and be prepared to take a numbered ticket to wait in line at the Via Verde office to sort the problem out. I joke, but to be honest the only other time I was there was when I bought the transponder and I had queued for what must have been the best part of an hour before being seen. The only place worse is the Finanças office! So, book in hand I entered the office. Apparently, my previous experience must have been on a quiet day! A quick re-think and I decided to plump for the very scary "option 2" of attempting to talk to someone in Portuguese on the phone. Getting things done face-to-face in Portuguese is hard enough sometimes, but when you can't see their facial expressions, body language and other non-verbal clues to help, it can simply be impossible. So i sat in the Via Verde office car park, dialed the number handily printed on the back of the transponder and waited for the "On Hold" music to come to it's inevitable untimely end and my call to be answered. With my usual opening apologetic line I added, "Você fala Inglês?" to which I received a very welcome, "No. Not much, but I try." Phew! Five minutes later, after much switching on both our parts between Portuguese and English I had established that all I needed to do was take my new bank card (when it arrived!) to a Multibank machine and follow a few simple instructions to attach my new bank card to my Via Verde account. After saying a hearty, "Thank you," in both languages I ended the call with a great sense of relief and some satisfaction of a job well done.
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