For English, press "8" . . .

When I moved here, I jumped on the bandwagon of gringos living in Mexico and subscribed for (bootleg) Dish TV from the U.S. Tons of channels, nearly all in English. (Dish Network thought I lived in Texas.)

Rod got hooked too. We watched old seasons of Will and Grace, Friends, Scrubs; all those shows that I missed while I was going through my ex-pat transition phase.

Then, one day, it crapped out. We already had a six-foot satellite dish hanging on the side of our house. I was told that Dish Network had put up a new satellite with a smaller footprint and I’d need to upgrade to an eight-foot dish (for about $800 USD) or switch to Canadian television.

“Screw that,” I thought. Enough bootlegging American comforts. We live in Mexico and we’re going to have Mexican TV. So we switched to Mexican Sky TV for about $150 USD installation fee (with a two year contract and a tiny dish). We even went for the Hi-def service, only to find that so few channels are broadcast in Hi-def that it wasn’t worth the extra few pesos. But we are able to record programs (and fast-forward through the commercials) with the fancy box with the blue lights so I guess that’s sort of worth it.

I have to read the guide in Spanish. If the show is broadcast in any language other than Spanish, the guide says that it is English. (Try Japanese, French or Italian with Spanish subtitles; tough.) But it is enough for me. There are sufficient shows are in English and I’m not a big TV watcher. (But I think Rod misses his US television options.)

When I signed up with Sky, my Capital One credit card had expired. So I used my BofA credit card. Later I discovered that BofA charges and international transaction fee of about $5. That annoyed me. So I vowed to call Sky Mexico and change my credit card to Capital One.

I was daunted. Speaking Spanish is one thing; speaking it on the phone is another. For months I put it off. I’d move the task from one week on my calendar to another; each time rehearsing the speech in my head; “Necesito cambiar mi tarjeta de credito . . .” Ugh! It is only $5 a month, I’ll do it later.

I thought about asking Rod to make the call. But he usually tells me, “You can do it. Go ahead. You need the practice.” He’s tends to be right, as annoying as that is.

So, after months of procrastination, this week I decided to give it a try. I figured that, if all else fails I can hang up and no harm no foul. I rehearsed in my head. I dialed the number.

“Bienvenido a Sky. For English press “8.”

Well that was easy. I wish that worked with government offices and police officers. Maybe it does. I just haven’t noticed the button.

A Bigger Boat . . .or not . . .

(I didn't write this but I love it.)

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

“Not very long,” answered the Mexican.

“But then, why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?” asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life.”

The American interrupted, “I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat.”

“And after that?” asked the Mexican.

“With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise.”

“How long would that take?” asked the Mexican.

“Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years,” replied the American.

“And after that?”

“Afterwards? Well my friend, that’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the American, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!”

“Millions? Really? And after that?” asked the Mexican.

“After that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends.”

And the moral of this story is: ……… Know where you’re going in life… you may already be there.