Swiss Bank Account

I've got to say, CHF1000 bills are pretty.

In part of my preparations to leave CERN on Saturday, after presenting my work this morning (this week's second presentation of three), I closed my Swiss bank account. It seemed like the end of an era - granted it was only two months - but I had become accustomed to saying, with a grin, that I had a Swiss bank account. It was all the more awesome because, lately, people are aware of Swiss bank accounts from more than just movies and books. In February, extra attention was drawn to Swiss bank accounts (and those of other small European countries like Lichtenstein) when a German tax-evasion scandal came to light.

My interactions with the Swiss banking system (through UBS - which, incidentally, like CERN is an acronym that no longer has any meaning) were rather mundane. When I opened the account, the most interesting thing to me (other than having to sign lots of legalese in French) was that my initial pin code was behind a sticker instead of the scratch off I was expecting. I had to remove the sticker and then hold the paper up to a light to read the code. My bank card was also surprisingly plain. There was no picture, just the essentials: my name, the account number, a few things about UBS, and the magnetic strip. The most exciting thing was that the Bank-O-Mats (ATMs) distributed both Euros and CHF. Oh, and I had to present a passport any time I wanted to make transactions at the desk.

When I closed the account today, I was given the balance in cash - including a pretty CHF1000 bill. CHF1000 bills are purple and considerably longer than the punier bills. They know they're important.


Note to the reader: If you're thinking about finding that cash in my room, think again. I only had it for 30 minutes, if that. I walked over to the hostel desk as soon as I had finished at the bank and paid the most of of my housing bill for the summer.