Tom has now taken an assignment in Paris, and is gone most weekdays. Now we have a problem. No Tom, no cell phone, no GPS. It is not that Switzerland is hard to get around without a GPS, it is that it is IMPOSSIBLE to get around without it. Roads are not marked, highway entrances don't tell you which direction you are going, and there are traffic circles everywhere. Remember the scene from "National Lampoon's European Vacation?": "Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament". Been there, done that.
I have been dreading this day for months. I obsessed over the choice of phone, and did extensive research with the help of technical articles far and wide. I narrowed down my choices, and headed off to the local electronics store with 2 hours, ID in hand, and money. I thought I was ready.
Cell phones in Europe are not "locked", so any phone works with any plan. There were over 60 phones begging to be fiddled with at the store, with all the descriptions in German. I quickly decided which phone and thought I was through the worst of the hard sell by the vendors. Nope, we're just getting warmed up!
There are 4 main vendors of the cell service in Switzerland, with a endless buffet of plans to choose from. Do you surf, do you talk, do you SMS? Where do you travel? Where do you like to call? Now figure out exactly how many GB of memory transfer you will use, exactly how much you will talk and text each month and you can decide what plan you need. Talking can cost per total numbers of minutes that you talk, or per call not lasting more than 59 minutes. Do you ever use your phone to Skype? Uggh, I need to make an excel spread sheet to choose.
I made my decision, and the staff seemed very pleased, and off we go to ring it up. I hand over the requisite residency permit, and watch the staff work. There were phone calls, there were consultations with managers, there was visible pointing at me with wild hand gestures. Apparently, when you are a foreigner, it is not enough to give your address and the legal documents saying that you are allowed in the country, you need notarized statements stating that you really live at your given address. I looked at my watch nervously, kids will be home in 1 hour, 15 minutes. I can rush home, find the file, and return. I think I have a piece of paper that might just get the job done. I'm off.
I return short of breath, ready to close this deal. Here we go again! Calls, consultations, disparaging looks from other vendors. Do I have something in my teeth? Why is everybody staring?
The cell phone vendor does not like the fact that I only have an "L" permit, a limited residency permit granted because we arrived toward the end of a calender year, not the beginning. At first, they were talking $1,000 Swiss franc down payment. The decision came down that they only needed $300. Small problem though. This store sells the phones and the plans, but they do not take down payments. I have to go to another cell phone store, give the deposit, get a receipt, and return back to store #1 with the receipt. Ok, but I have no GPS yet to find this store.
Now I am determined. I WILL get this done, come hell or high water. I flew out of the store in the general direction of the new store, bumbled my way there (hey buddy, not necessary to honk, I'm a little lost), and arrived to give my deposit. I was assured by store #1 that someone in store #2 spoke English.
"Gruetzi! Tut mir lied, Ich sprechen kein Deutsch. Sprechen Sie Englisch?" (Hello! I'm so sorry, I speak no German, do you speak English?)
"Nein". They take my ticket number from my hand, throw it into the garbage, and call for the customer with the next ticket number.
My Yankee assertiveness training took over, I stepped between the approaching customer and the sales associate and bumble my way through an explanation of deposits, L permits, receipts, and presented the magical debit card to prove they will get a commission from working with me. Amazing how money talks in any language!
I call the girls while returning to the original store. They are fine, long multiplication is no fun, but the homework is getting done. I am overjoyed. I can visualize that phone in my hand, deftly guiding me through Europe.
Here we go again. Third set of copies of my permit, passport, heated phone conversations, and the sales associate says "I'll be right back" and he darts off to the other side of the store.
I stand there for 45 minutes. Other associates ask me what is happening. How the %$** am I supposed to know? I have to admit, I was very amused watching the older Swiss men leer at Britney Spears videos while I was waiting, but this is getting insane. My sales associate runs back, another phone call, another excuse, and I did understand "I have a migraine, I need coffee" from his phone conversation. Apparently the fax machine was broken, and in a store filled with electronics, they had no back up fax. He used a scanner and e-mail to get the paperwork sent.
Long story longer...It took 4 hours 15 minutes to get a cell phone. I am, however, surfen and skypen to my hearts content. My new friend Fiona says that I am very lucky. Women who do not have full time jobs usually are not allowed to have a cell phone in their own name. Did I mention how honored I feel?
