The Mexicans

So, I bought the mother a cell phone for Christmas. I gave it to her about a week early. She’s been playing with it off and on ever since after initially declaring that she didn’t need a cell phone.

On Christmas Day as we were preparing to go to our family’s house, her phone went off and then stopped. Hmmm. I picked it up and flipped it open. She had a text message : Joyeux Noel (which I understood) and a bunch of other French that I did not. I figured this was a one-time thing.

Then, last week, she got a call from someone who was “talking 100 words a second in Spanish.” After three or four calls of these calls, she finally spoke to someone who seemed to get “wrong number.” The calls promptly stopped … for a few days.

“I tried to call you but my phone wouldn’t work,” the mother said one night. I flipped open the phone. 1 New Text Message. I opened the message. Sorry I haven’t been back in touch since Christmas. I was out of the country and just got back.

WTF?

I ignored it.

And then, the calls starting coming again – daily. The mother, being the mother, finally called them back. She was almost triumphant in her announcement to me that she had “gotten to the bottom of the thing with the Mexicans.” She announced this to me as I walked in the door from work one night.

It took a few seconds before I could figure out what she was talking about. This time, she got ahold of someone who passed her off to someone else who actually did speak some English. They apologized profusely. No more calls.

Yet.