ANZ: My Banking Experience in New Zealand

Getting a bank account is a daunting task that hangs over any recently immigrated person’s head. In order to get a bank account, you need proof of address. In order to get proof of address, you need something mailed to you (like the letter from receiving your tax number, for example). In order to get your tax number, you need a bank account. This was the cycle I was up against for a few days, until I heard about the best kept travel secret thus far:

You can get proof of address from the hostel you are staying at.

I don’t know if this is true in all hostels, but at the ones in New Zealand I know that this is possible. I’m not sure if every bank would accept proof of address from your hostel, but I know the ones in New Zealand should. This is important because in order to get a job you need your tax number, and then in order to get your tax number…you get it.

When opening my bank account in Ireland, I needed a letter mailed to me by the government or some other reputable organization, or I needed a copy of my signed lease (if I were to have signed a lease, which I did not). Some banks didn’t accept my PPS number letter (that’s like a social security number) which made things even more difficult, because there was no other reason for the government to send me anything. In the end, I was able to make it work with my PPS letter at the Bank of Ireland and I am happy with that bank.

So here in Wellington, with proof of address in hand, I waltzed over to the nearest ASB branch and fearlessly walked up to the counter and greeted the worker. ASB was the bank that one of my CELTA classmates told me she used when she lived in Wellington on a Working Holiday, so I thought BRILL this will be my bank too.

Well.

The worker was smiley enough until I told him I wanted to open an account.

His lip twitched, “Do you have proof of address?” Why yes, I do and here you go. Silence. “Do you have an ID?” Yes, here is my passport kind sir. He looked through the pages of my passport with a furrowed brow. Was he looking for my NZ entry stamp? Because I was electronically scanned in so I didn’t have anything stamped in my passport. Was he a bank teller, or did I accidently walk into a New Zealand immigration office? I started to question this.

More silence. “Why do you want to open a bank account?” Because I want to get a job, nice banker man. “Do you have a visa?” Uh…yes, I have one, do you want to see it? Luckily I had it with me, so I passed it over and he examined it like he was trying to read a foreign language. Then he said he needed to ask his supervisor something and was gone.

I stood there picking at my nails, still being hopeful, but also feeling a bit scrutinized. I just wanted to open an account. I have the legal right to be here in New Zealand. What could be wrong?

He came back, the same nervous smile painted a bit more confidently on his face, and said, “I’m sorry but we don’t open accounts for people with this visa. I do, however, have a solution for you that I think will be the best option. You can go to Kiwi bank.”

Kiwi bank? That’s the bank that is inside the post office. I heard they were rubbish. I heard if you needed to discuss anything with a teller, you were doing it next to others who were managing their mail, and there wasn’t much privacy for you to talk about your financial business. Kiwi bank was the last bank I wanted to open an account with. My friend had a Working Holiday and she was with ASB….whyyyy banker man, whyyy?

I asked him if that was my only option. He said “Yes” with a flicker in his voice that told me he was a load of bollocks. I smiled and gathered all of my paperwork, slowly and painfully, simmering in the awkwardness of the moment. I stepped into the fresh air outside and took a minute to think.

Do I go to Kiwi bank? I felt my heart slipping down in my chest. I really didn’t want to go there.

Do I really have to go there? No. You know what? No. I’m going to walk into a different bank. ANZ. Ya that bank. I’m going to go to ANZ. If they reject me, so what.

SO WHAT?!

WHAT?! Rejection isn’t the worse feeling in the world! *laughs nervously to herself*

I puffed my chest out like the birds do to intimidate their foe, and pavonised (you like that CELTA classmates???) up to the line of people waiting for service at the nearest ANZ branch.

I heard from a new friend at the hostel (if you're reading this, hi Jessica!) that ANZ was a good bank so I was hopeful. After speaking with a woman at the desk, she scheduled a slot for me with Kasheef to open my account.

That's their logo. Doesn't it look like a person giving you a hug?! *u*

When I met your man, he was nothing but the epitome of excellent customer service. He was extremely friendly, explained everything to me so that I understood the most important aspects of my new account, made a few jokes, and he didn’t even ask to see my visa. All he needed was PROOF OF ADDRESS and an ID like a NORMAL bank would need to open an account. Honestly, just his smile and attitude made my day. I left a really nice review about him online afterwards.

So now…I HAS BANK ACCOUNT. And once you have a bank account…. you already know! (see paragraph 1)

If you happen to be considering opening a bank account in New Zealand, I really do recommend ANZ. Especially the one on Lambton Quay in Wellington. I’ve been there a few times after opening my account, and they helped me with everything and were so kind! They make it all so easy and pain free when banking can sometimes be a hassle and a stress!

I honestly felt like a criminal from the way they treated me at ASB....what was that about? In the end, I got my account and am with a great bank!

PS- Tomorrow is Sunday, so that means FARMERS MARKET. And guess who's got $3.50 cash for a bag of carrots, a head of lettuce, and some broccoli?? Someone who spent that money on, let's say, a bus ticket would have been really disappointed at their lack of vegetables for the week...

Just saying.

Until next time loves,

Ciao.

xxKa