How (not) to open an English bank account. Almost done.

It’s almost over, and victory is certainly in the air.

In my possession is now a small piece of plastic labelled rather unimaginatively, ‘DRIVING LICENCE’. It doesn’t have to be much more. It bears my name, my face, and my address. Clutching it and my passport, a visit to the bank was necessary.

“Are you currently employed?” The assistant at Barclays asked. It was like déjà vu.

I responded in the negative, and asked “What does it matter?” I told her about our previous conversation and whipped out my UK drivers license, all with a stupid lottery winning smile. She gave me a look that either meant pity, or that she wished I could be set upon with a soldering iron.

“It’s just that we can’t give you a current account until you are employed, yeah.”

Nyeah. I explained to her what a catch-22 was, and to apply it in this present scenario, meant that I effectively couldn’t get a job until I had an account an employer could pay money into. After an awkward silence, she went away to “see what I can do.” Returning a few minutes later, she advised that current accounts were off limits, but a savings account could be managed. I booked an appointment with a consultant for 2pm so I could argue the matter further.

I walked out of Barclays and wondered whether other banks adopted a similar policy. Down the road to Lloyds TSB. I asked the lady over the counter about their policy for opening accounts. “Do you have two forms of ID?” She asked. I showed them, and she handed me a form. There was the typical hullabaloo on the form about employment and expenses, but after I returned it for inspection, there was little fanfare. “You’ll receive your notice in five to seven working days.” Perhaps this was the British method of avoiding conflict, but it was far more successful than my Barclays endeavour.

2pm, and off to Barclays. I met with a friendly consultant, who, upon discovering that I had arrived from New Zealand, couldn’t imagine why I had set foot on English soil. “But why would you leave?” She asked, not just once, but several times throughout our conversation. After a while I was thinking to myself the same. Why did I leave?

Nevertheless, she was a bastion of information, so I stuck on my journalist hat and asked some questions. Let’s get cracking:

It is virtually impossible to open a bank account on your own.

Bollocks. It wasn’t exactly the word she used, but it’s close enough. Opening an account is easy, she told me, as long as you can prove your identity and your address. It doesn’t even have to be all UK stuff. A New Zealand passport, a New Zealand bank statement. The trick is to gather this stuff before you leave so when you enter the UK you won’t be caught out. She told me that even proof of a New Zealand address would be sufficient, but I was so surprised I don’t want to quote that as fact just yet.

You must be employed before banks will let you have an account.

The much-fabled catch-22, and thank goodness, wrong. Granted, many accounts will be inaccessible to you as a job-seeker in the UK, however banks can still issue basic accounts to you (no overdraft, no chequebook, no debit card features). In my case, I was offered a Cash Card Account, which I gladly accepted.

It’s a complex and lengthy process

If you count the two weeks to obtain a UK drivers license, and the week it will take to process my license application form, then three weeks is your turnaround to open a bank account manually. If you can’t wait that long, then by all means head to 1^st Contact. It’s also a good idea to arrange a meeting with your chosen bank’s staff, rather than rely on the generic assistants. I guess you could add that once I have a job I’ll need to apply for a current account to get more benefits. I’ll cross that hurdle when it comes.

I guess the point is that no, it’s not impossible. It’s not even amazingly frustrating or difficult. You need to be prepared with some official documents, to prove (once again) your identity and your address. As for using a middle-man, go ahead and spend the 35 pounds if you want peace of mind. You pay money for convenience, but they won’t be taking mine.

The cherry is not yet on the cake, but the icing’s laid out. My applications are being processed, and I’ll be grinning like a fool before the month’s out.