Monday, May 27, 2019

moving to mexico -- singing the internet blues and hallelujahs


Part 1 of the Steve Loses His Internet episode has faded to black.

After twice ordering a new modem from Telmex, I received a call this morning from Telmex asking if I had a problem with my modem. My stomach sank. But I remembered the lesson I learned from Omar and soldiered through the questions the Telmex representative felt were important enough to be repeated.

My Spanish often fails me on the telephone. Part of that is caused by being caught off-guard. When I walk into a store, I have a rather good idea of the conversation possibilities. On the telephone, the dictionary is up for grabs.

But, even more important, I still need to sees a speaker's lips moving to catch some of the subtle consonants in Spanish. In English, we call it slurring.

The call enigmatically terminated with a brusque "OK" (one of those terms that appears to be almost universal). And with no explanation why the questions we had earlier answered needed to be answered again.

I was about to call Telmex to verify that our second order had not gone astray in the delivery process, when I heard a truck pull up in front of the house. The reason I happened to be in the house this morning is that I am expecting a propane delivery. (That is another tale that stretches back to last February. You will probably hear a bit more about it.)

But it was not the propane truck. It was a walking, breathing Telmex technician with a new boxed-modem in his hand.

That surprised me because Omar had distinctly chosen the delivery option rather than the technician-delivered option because we were told delivery was faster. But I am glad Telmex switched the options.

I do not need a technician to set up a modem. I do it at least once a year. My age-related dementia has not advanced to the point where I forget electrical operations that easily.

He unplugged the old modem and installed the new one connecting all of my network cables. Everything set up perfectly. Except for the internet. Just like the old modem.

He tried several times. Nothing. The telephone signal was perfect. But no internet.

He checked the internet junction box in the utility alcove. No internet.

He climbed his Flying Wallendas ladder to the third-story connection on the front of my house. Nothing.

Twice he drove off in his tech-mobile to places unknown. Well, unknown to me at the time. Only to return with that look that doctors have when they are about to ask you whether you want the good news or the bad news first.

After returning the second time, he did what every man hates to do. He called someone for assistance.

In this case it was someone who had access to the internet controls. I imagine it as a dark underground room lit only by the glow of hundreds of monitors filled with screens of personal information and selfies of people even in the remotest parts of Malawi.

Wait a minute. I think that is the set for Emilio Largo's hideout.

And then he was done. All of the lights on my modem were lit up like last night's election results for the Brexit Party. I was set to go.

It turns out I had a twofer problem. Not only had my modem died, the internet connection to my house had been tripped off as if I were some deadbeat who forgot to visit Oxxo with my Telmex bill this month.

Of course, I will receive no reduction in my bill for the week of internet service I was not able to use solely because of the failure of two pieces of Telmex equipment. When I jokingly asked the question of the technician, he thought it was one of the funniest things he had ever heard.

I thanked him and released him to complete his appointed rounds while I sat down to fruitlessly await the arrival of the propane truck. Mexico is like a fast-track yoga course in the Elysian fields.

So, you are receiving the first missive on the new internet connection. But I have learned a lesson. This evening, I drive to Villa Obregon to pick up what I hope is an operating Telcel modem. It will mean paying two internet provider bills each month. But, more importantly, like Scarlett O'Hara, I will never be internet poor again. Or something like that.

I suspect the Telcel modem saga will turn into Episode 2 of Steve Loses His Internet. I hope it is a short story.   


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