Where everybody knows your name.

I've been meaning to write for a really long time about my Italian bank.

That's right, you heard me: ITALIAN BANK. Like bank, where you keep your money, where you make you financial transactions, you know: BANK.

My bank is called Banca di Roma or "The Bank of Rome" and it is the biggest and most well known (and, I suppose, respected -- but I wouldn't count on it) in Rome and possibly in Italy, especially since it has joined forces with UNICREDIT, another bank -- basically forming a formidable monopoly.

I want to write about my bank because nowhere else in the world, and especially not in America, have I ever experienced anything quite like it.

Take today, for example. I walk in, trying to keep a low profile. Within two minutes from the other side of the room "KEEEEEEEM!!!!" (they pronounce i like a double e here) --- it's the guy who works at the back desk. He starts asking me how I am and when I respectfully, and rightfully respond with the formal "e come sta, Lei?" (And how are you, Sir?") he scoffs at me as though such good friends should never need formal addresses. He starts asking me how my credit card is doing -- if it is still magnetized (to explain, my Banca di Roma credit cards have all been demagnitized a total of 15 times in the past year -- which is why the whole damn bank knows who I am) -- and I respond kindly that yes -- the card protector cases I bought are working -- and he wants to chat on about how my work is going. He says my friend "Irlandese" from work has the same problem with her cards. I say no, she's british -- Louise right? And another guy shouts from the back of the room "Si -- Clarke!!" (That is Louise's last name). Now -- he doesn't know Louise works with me because I told him or because she told him. He knows because he sees we both get paid by the same company. He also wants to know how Catherine is doing. Catherine is a guide that works for our company. And no -- I never told him I knew Catherine.

They freaking know EVERYTHING about me. And EVERYONE I work with!

So I get up to the teller window, and there is only one teller window open, of course -- even though its friday afternoon 1 hour before closing (the bank will be closed the entire weekend) -- and there is a line 15 people long.

Anyway I get up there, and of course -- it's the same teller as always. I mean I don't even know this guys name. He doesn't ask me for ID to make a deposit. He never has. Not even for withdrawals. Not even for withdrawals over 500 euro!

So he says "ma non ricordi il tuo numero di conto?" ("you don't remember your bank account number?") and I tell him no, i've never memorized it -- in the entire + 1year i've been with this bank i've never come in knowing my account number -- and he goes "well I think I remember it..." and proceeds to recite my account number perfectly from memory. Then he asks me how work is going, and how Catherine is...

I sigh. This is not the first time the same teller has recited my bank account number to me from memory.

I sign and make my deposit. I address him as "Lei" (the formal address) as well and he scoffs at me, as well, saying don't call him that -- it makes him feel OLD, like he's 20 years older than me.

In reality he's probably just a bit over 10, but he's my TELLER.

I think, thats probably the same teller that called all of the other people in my company that have accounts with Banca di Roma just because he tried calling me once and I didn't answer -- regarding a silly problem with my account.

It's just so weird.

But i've gotten used to it. And I must admit it is kind of nice when I walk in that i'm recognized, and everyone is super-nice. In the end, it's not so bad -- I guess.

But, like many things that happen in Italy, I can't even begin to imagine a similar scenario in America.

Only in Rome.