There’s no crying in the Costco hot dog line!

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. But I’m learning to then, try again. And then go get the right form and come back again. And then that still might not be right.

One of the things we are figuring out whilst (I’m picking up the vernacular) living in the U.K. is how to just get things done, like setting up bank accounts, our utility bill, getting a phone number and provider, cable, Internet, heck – even the trash and recycling.

As Tim was traveling over here in June and July, he thought one of the things he could check off the list was getting our bank accounts all set up. After numerous calls and inquiries, he was told he couldn’t do anything until he made an appointment with an international banker. There were no appointments in the timeframe he was here, so he called and emailed this individual, a few times…six weeks later, he had heard nothing.

After living here about a week, we finally got an appointment with an international banker. We got the accounts set up, but he noted it would take a while to get our cards. Then it would take longer to receive our pin numbers to use the cards. And he forgot to add me to the credit card so he would have to send me a form to sign, which still hasn’t come in the mail…it all takes time and persistence.

Like the quest for a phone. First, an employee at an appliance store that sells phone plans told me there was no way for me to get me a plan since I had lived in the U.K. less than three years, and no phone company would give me one. Er, OK? I was surprised and left, but then became convinced that wasn’t right. (It wasn’t.)

So Tim, the boys and I went to several phone stores, scoped plans and picked one. (I had to break my Verizon contract in the U.S. and pay outright for my iPhone, which $$$, but at least I could get a plan with just a SIM card here.) After going over the details and making sure my iPhone was unlocked and able to be transferred, we went through the process and he said, “I’ll need your bank card to set up the direct debit.”

We had JUST received our bank card, but I hadn’t put it in my wallet yet. Tim had his, so we switched all of the details over to set it up in his name. “OK, now I need your pin,” the employee said.” Tim had set up his card to Apple Pay so he’d been able to pay for things without his pin (which hadn’t arrived yet) That was a no go. We left, defeated.

I went back about a week later, bank card AND pin number in hand. Was I too cocky? Yes, I was. We went through, set up the account direct debit, and entered my pin like a rock star. Then she called someone very official and told them that we had just moved here and were setting up an account, nodded a few times, said mm-hmm, and hung up.

“Sorry, but you’re going to need a proof of address.”  Ugh. I forgot to bring anything that showed my address, like the actual paper that the pretty little bank card came on.

I wasn’t giving up yet. I asked if a bank statement would work and then got on Google Maps and found a local branch. I proceeded to walk around in circles for about 10 minutes trying to find the branch as I my phone kept saying, “YOU HAVE ARRIVED” even though I definitely hadn’t. Eventually, I found it and asked them to print me a statement and ran back over to the phone store. Victorious!

It’s not glamorous, but it is a glimpse into what the first couple weeks have felt like. I get it – it’s part of life in a foreign country, with different policies and procedures and ways of doing things.

Which is where Costco comes in. When I found out there was a Costco here, AND you didn’t even need to transfer your account, you just walk right in with your card, I was elated. And when I walked in, it felt like home. The layout was similar, the products were similar; I could do this. So I loaded that cart up like…well, I guess someone at Costco. Pots and pans that would work on an induction oven (ours don’t)! All the fresh fruit and veggies and meat and snacks! Water filter and batteries! 72 rolls of toilet paper! WINE!

Then I got to the checkout. This was also before my bank card came, but I had been confidently using my U.S. credit card, and just noting, “I’ll have to sign for this.” European cards have a special European chip where they don’t need to sign, but U.S. ones still need to be signed for and many cashiers aren’t familiar with this. I asked if that was going to be OK, and she assured me it was fine.

As the grand total flashed, I inserted my card. “No, that’s not working. It doesn’t give me an option to approve and have you sign,” she said.

NO NO NO NO. “Um, can you try again?” I asked. I had just spent more than an hour in the store, with the boys, waited in a huge line and packed all of it into my cart to go. I was sweating.

She tried again, and said, “I’m sorry, love, it’s not prompting me to have you sign.”

There was a long line of customers looking annoyed and impatient behind me. “Do you want me to wait for you while you try to sort this out or take some cash out of the machine?” she asked.

If there’s one that really flusters me, it’s when people are waiting on me. Plus, the boys were whining and running around.

“I’ll just put it all aside and call my husband. Maybe I can use his bank card.” I started pushing the cart over to the wall to get out of the way and figure this out. “Ma’am? MA’AM! The cart needs to stay with me!” she asserted. Apparently I looked like I was going to bolt with my huge cart of goods, which is pretty funny.

I called Tim, flustered and annoyed but there wasn’t much he could do. Apparently Costco here accepts Visa debit cards but not credit cards, and he didn’t have his pin number yet. So I went over to the cash machine and used my U.S. card to withdraw the max amount – fees be damned!

The boys were losing it by this point, of course. I mean, the entire point of Costco is the hot dogs at the end, and I’d been saying “yep, almost there! Almost done!” for a long time.

I went back to the cart, waited in a long line again and slowly picked what I needed to keep and what didn’t make the cut as I placed each item on the belt in front of me. The strawberries stay, the cheese goes. Red wine stays, white wine goes. Then, I carefully counted out the cash and made sure I had enough left.

Once done, I told the boys to go grab a table and I got in the food line. Studying the menu intently, I felt the tears well up in my eyes and start to fall. Things that should be simple and easy were not simple, or easy, or fast. It was silly and not a big deal, but it was embarrassing and the culmination of many little things that felt just like that. I’m sure the other people thought I was crazy, but I figured that I had already cemented my reputation in that Costco, on that day, so it didn’t matter.

And then I got it together, wiped my eyes, ordered my hot dogs and ate with the boys. They had finally gotten to the part that they had been waiting so long for. And though I didn’t quite feel that level of satisfaction, it was a pretty good hot dog.

Onward! If you’re still with me, I promise the next post won’t be about errands. 🙂