mi madre está loca
Ok, she's not really crazy, but the guy on the other end of the phone thought so.
We had spent the weeks following 9/11 glued to the tv set. Our neighbors tv to be precise. Neighbors that lived across town. And had a small tv. And no comforatable seating. When fights broke out over who got the single padded chair we realized it was time to get our own satelite.
It should have been simple, right? You just go to the shop, by your satelite, plug it in and viola, you have all the news(and whatever else) you could ever want. Wrong.
We find a shop that deals what we are looking for. So far so good. We get our satelite set up but for some reason it isn't working. We call the service provider and they tell us we have an outdated reciver box thingy(I hope that isn't too technical). Ok, no prob. It was probably an accident... We should just go to his shop and exchange it. This is where it gets fun.
My mom is not the kind of woman who likes dealing with people who aren't dealing straight with her. Let me make this clear, she really does not like these kind of people. Really. At all. This needs to be clear in your mind or you will not get any of what I am saying.
So, all of us had piled into our mitsubishi pajero. We are on are way to the little shop and my mom decides to call the guy to make sure the shop is open(hours are weird here, right now shops are open from 11-1:30pm and then 7-3am). My mom calls the number from her mobile(cell) and calls the guy. He answers and she begins telling him the tragedy of our tv. About 30 seconds into the story the guy stops her and tells her that she has the wrong number and that he is a journalist, not a shopkeeper. My mother apologizes and hangs up.
My mother again tries the number, this time trying sure to get it right. Three rings later someone answers it... the journalist guy once again told my mom it was the wrong number. Once again my mother apologized. Third time is the charm... right?
My mom looks extra close at the guy's business card and makes sure to get the number right. She dials and before it has a chance to ring a very annoyed journalist answers. He starts off on her how she is bothering him and that he is busy. He then hangs up.
My mom gets angry now. Very angry. "What kind of @#^&$ business is this"(ok, i inserted the hidden swear word... my mom rarely swears. When she does, you know its coming, there is this deep intake of breah, a moment of silence and then... the word. But that is a whole other post) She started ranting how it was probably some guy who moved his shop every day selling outdated overpriced stuff. He was a crook for sure. We all discuss who he guy might be. My mom calls again but the guy answers and hangs up before she can say anything. After several tries he finally answers. My mom starts ranting at him and yelling about what a horrible person he is. He threatens to call the police and hangs up.
My mom is huffing(and puffing) with anger now. The nerve! My dad asks to look at the business card and her phone. While swerving to avoid rear-ending cars he looks at the dialled numbers on my mom's phone and the card... back and forth over and over again. A faint smile appears on his lips. "Hon," he says in his sweetest voice, "I think you may have forgotten to dial the area code before he number." Dead silence. My mom flushes. You see, to dial any land-line from a mobile here you have to put the area code of the number which you are dialling, something my mom failed to do numerous times.
Needless to say she never made that mistake again.
We had spent the weeks following 9/11 glued to the tv set. Our neighbors tv to be precise. Neighbors that lived across town. And had a small tv. And no comforatable seating. When fights broke out over who got the single padded chair we realized it was time to get our own satelite.
It should have been simple, right? You just go to the shop, by your satelite, plug it in and viola, you have all the news(and whatever else) you could ever want. Wrong.
We find a shop that deals what we are looking for. So far so good. We get our satelite set up but for some reason it isn't working. We call the service provider and they tell us we have an outdated reciver box thingy(I hope that isn't too technical). Ok, no prob. It was probably an accident... We should just go to his shop and exchange it. This is where it gets fun.
My mom is not the kind of woman who likes dealing with people who aren't dealing straight with her. Let me make this clear, she really does not like these kind of people. Really. At all. This needs to be clear in your mind or you will not get any of what I am saying.
So, all of us had piled into our mitsubishi pajero. We are on are way to the little shop and my mom decides to call the guy to make sure the shop is open(hours are weird here, right now shops are open from 11-1:30pm and then 7-3am). My mom calls the number from her mobile(cell) and calls the guy. He answers and she begins telling him the tragedy of our tv. About 30 seconds into the story the guy stops her and tells her that she has the wrong number and that he is a journalist, not a shopkeeper. My mother apologizes and hangs up.
My mother again tries the number, this time trying sure to get it right. Three rings later someone answers it... the journalist guy once again told my mom it was the wrong number. Once again my mother apologized. Third time is the charm... right?
My mom looks extra close at the guy's business card and makes sure to get the number right. She dials and before it has a chance to ring a very annoyed journalist answers. He starts off on her how she is bothering him and that he is busy. He then hangs up.
My mom gets angry now. Very angry. "What kind of @#^&$ business is this"(ok, i inserted the hidden swear word... my mom rarely swears. When she does, you know its coming, there is this deep intake of breah, a moment of silence and then... the word. But that is a whole other post) She started ranting how it was probably some guy who moved his shop every day selling outdated overpriced stuff. He was a crook for sure. We all discuss who he guy might be. My mom calls again but the guy answers and hangs up before she can say anything. After several tries he finally answers. My mom starts ranting at him and yelling about what a horrible person he is. He threatens to call the police and hangs up.
My mom is huffing(and puffing) with anger now. The nerve! My dad asks to look at the business card and her phone. While swerving to avoid rear-ending cars he looks at the dialled numbers on my mom's phone and the card... back and forth over and over again. A faint smile appears on his lips. "Hon," he says in his sweetest voice, "I think you may have forgotten to dial the area code before he number." Dead silence. My mom flushes. You see, to dial any land-line from a mobile here you have to put the area code of the number which you are dialling, something my mom failed to do numerous times.
Needless to say she never made that mistake again.
posted by samb at 9:28 PM
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