Prostituting Myself for a Phone Line - June 28th, 2006

As you read the title of this blog, some of you may have found yourself thinking, “Well, gosh, Elizabeth! That seems kind of extreme! Surely phone lines aren’t that hard to come by!” But they are. As are TELMEX installation/repair men.

Last winter, Zee’s phone went out. She visited the office on a weekly basis, complaining of no service. Finally after TWO MONTHS, a repairman showed up and started to work on a problem that took him two more weeks to resolve (the connection to the main pole was no longer connected….). She has been telling me for the last four weeks, “I know they said they’d call you in 30 days, but you realize they won’t, right? You are going to have to go in and complain weekly until someone shows up…”

I knew in my heart this was true. I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t have the wherewithal for another seven hours in the TELMEX office. As the thirty day mark approached, a day in the presence of Mr. Bureaucracy was looming. And then a miracle occurred…

Yes, another miracle!

I got in from the field yesterday, hot, tired, and dusty after a day of ethnographic research and student supervision in the village of La Soledad Morelos. After a mango smoothie, I went straight for the shower to clean up. Just after I hopped out of the shower, I heard Kim shout, “Elizabeth, come quick! There is a TELMEX man outside looking at the pole in the street!!!”

I threw on a tank top and skirt, dashed to my lab where I grabbed my installation paperwork, and ran outside.

The TELMEX man was already in his truck, but when he looked up and saw a gringa in a flimsy, low cut tank top running towards him with a look of desperation on her face, he stopped. He leaned out of the truck, leered at me, waiting for me to proposition him.

“Hola, señor! Esta aqui para instalar mi línea de teléphono?” I bat my eyelashes madly, hoping that my bad Spanish is endearingly or adorably so.

Apparently, it works. Or the tank top does. He fixes his gaze firmly on my chest and says, “Well, now, that depends, who are you?”

I give him my name and whip out the work order. “I have my paperwork,” I explain, eyes fluttering and chest heaving.

He pauses, savoring the moment. “Well,” he finally answers, “I am actually here to install a telephone in your neighbor’s house…” He gestures towards Renee’s house. Renee has shown me every kindness and watches out for my house when he is working in his yard late at night. In spite of this kindness, I find myself thinking of ways to sabotage Renee’s TELMEX visit.

Luckily, there is no need. While evil, no good thoughts were running through my head, the TELMEX man, who’s name I later find out is Pedro, starts going through the work orders on his clipboard. He finally finds one that matches mine about half way through the pile of 75+ orders. He looks at it, he looks at me, he looks at my breasts, he looks back at the work order. He sighs. “I suppose I could come do your installation when I finish with your neighbor.”

If I were the sort of woman who jumps up and down and claps her hands to show extreme happiness, I would have. I couldn’t swear at this moment that I didn’t. I was awfully happy. I probably wouldn’t have thanked Pedro more effusively if he had just pulled me out of a pit of rattlesnakes.

I retreated to the house so Pedro could get on with his job. Kim and I pulled chairs up near the door so we could make sure he didn’t drive off. I think he probably thought our motivations were not based on my desire to have a telephone line installed and to not have that installation involve another trip to TELMEX. It didn’t matter. As long as he came back and didn’t leave until I had a phone, I didn’t care what he thought. After about 20 minutes with Renee, Pedro drives back to my driveway. There are dogs everywhere. I currently have seven living around my house and a couple more who visit regularly. He looks around him at the seven dogs and asks me nervously if it is safe to get out of the truck.

I look at the three Marias (three beautiful black lab puppies who are only a couple months old and who have only JUST learned to sit and not bite. Sometimes….), throw caution to the wind, and say, “Oh yeah, they are really, really friendly…” He gets out of the truck. The three Marias go crazy. The older dogs stand around, contemplating barking. I rush in to drag the puppies off Pedro, Kim rushes out to help me. The problem with the Three Marias is that they outnumber any one person, three dogs to only a pair of hands.

Pedro smoothes his hair. I’m afraid he is going to leave, but the puppy love is totally worth two gringas kneeling at his feet, even if they do have armfuls of hysterical black lab. Looking down at us, Pedro sees opportunity. He gets down on his hands and knees and eagerly starts petting and tickling the puppies, getting a few tickles in at the expense of Kim and I, as well.

Inwardly, I roll my eyes. But I don’t have a phone line, yet!

Escaping the puppies (and Pedro’s “accidentally” roaming hands), we return to the house. Pedro makes himself comfortable in the kitchen where Kim offers him a soda. We exchange pleasantries. Pedro decides to teach us some Spanish. “Do you know what niña bonita means?” he asks us.

I try not to groan. I nod. Kim, poor innocent, says no.

Pedro leaps on this. “Ah!” he says, “It means beautiful girl! You are both such beautiful girls…”

This goes on for quite some time. I keep trying to steer the conversation in the direction of telephone lines. Pedro will not be dissuaded. This beautiful opportunity is not going to be derailed by work!

It takes a full forty minutes of flirting before Pedro gets to work. After spending another twenty minutes installing the phone line, Pedro returns for another thirty minutes of flirtation. He gives me a one on one lesson on how to plug my phone into the outlet (seriously…). Finally, he can think of no reason to stay any longer. He presses his cell phone number on me. “This is my number. My personal, private, direct number. I always have it on me! Please call me! I can come and set up your internet when you get it! If your phone breaks, I will come and fix it! We can have dinner, and I can give you little classes of Spanish!” I smile and nod noncommittally, herding Pedro towards the door.

He doesn’t want to leave, but his play has been made. He backs up reluctantly, moving towards his truck, shouting pleasantries and compliments at Kim and I until the last possible moment. Finally, with a sad and lingering backward glance at my cleavage, Pedro drives off in a cloud of dust.

As he leaves, Zee pulls up. She gets out of her car, curious as to what all the commotion has been about. I walk over and hand her Pedro’s cell phone number.

“The TELMEX man was here. Next time your phone breaks, just call this number… His name is Pedro.”