Closing the Deal, Part 2

Before signing the papers to close on the property, I visited the local bank to finalise the opening of my account and get the numerous bank drafts that I would need to hand over at the signing.

The process for setting up an account in Italy is not greatly different from doing so in the US or the UK, with one notable exception: Italian bankers possess an impressive array of rubber stamps, which they use with great enthusiasm at various points on dozens of documents.

An interesting dynamic, however, emerges in the process, one that often appears during complex (and often not-so-complex) interactions with Italians. I am not yet fluent in Italian (in fact, sometimes I can barely understand the language at all), but despite the language barrier, I have noticed a particular ritual occur in Italian transactions, even when there is no actual negotiation involved (like opening a bank account, for example).

The first person will make a request or a statement. In response, the counterparty will frown, perhaps make a "hmmmm" sound, and then launch into a sometimes impassioned, but often measured explanation of how difficult this will be, that it most likely cannot be done (impossible!) and certainly not within the time frame suggested.

An intense, but cordial, exchange follows for a few minutes, usually rich with repetition and gesticulation. Finally, as if they have reached an unspoken time limit, the parties miraculously agree. "OK, va bene," and it's done. Problem solved. On to the next item, where the process repeats itself.

You need to access the account this morning, today? I don't think we can do that. Four bank drafts by this afternoon? Impossible! Your address is in London? Hmmmm. You need internet access? We will need the special documents to be signed by the dirigente, and he is only here for one hour.

Watch carefully, and you will see this interaction play itself out repeatedly in Italy: in restaurants, at shops, at airports, and especially in banks and government offices. Nothing is simple or easy, but eventually, everything gets done.

In the end, we accomplished my banking tasks in about an hour. With the invaluable help of a translator to smooth the process, I signed a flurry of documents (stamp, stamp, stamp. . ), met the dirigente, got my bank card and secured the drafts to pay for the house.

So armed with my freshly minted drafts, I left the bank for the Notario's office to close the deal.