far too much writing, far too many photos

That new teléfono móvil I thought was signed, sealed, almost delivered? As with many things in this adorable life of ours, getting it did not go exactly as expected.

The 20-something who’d accepted my deposit earlier in the week on what I thought would be my new electronic appendage — he who said he’d call when new appendage arrived — turned out to be a pleasant slacker. (Pleasant = laughing at all my pathetic attempts at laugh lines during our dealings.) Wednesday and Thursday: no call. Friday: I stopped by the shop for a status check. Slackerboy informed me that the móvil I put money down on was sold out, shifted immediately to plan B (trying to steer me toward phones loaded with features I didn’t want or need, with substantially fatter price tags).

I have nothing against salesmanship and so spent a few minutes listening to his slightly goofy shpiel. When it became clear that the plans he had for me had no connection with what I actually wanted, I said a polite nothanks, recovered my deposit, took off. On the way out, I noticed a bunch of móviles in the front window of the store next door, saw several much closer to what I was looking for than the one I’d just missed out on in store #1. For the same price or less. Went inside, grabbed a salesperson. Walked out ten minutes later with a new phone.

Me: a real person again. (At least here in Spain.) And about time.

Madrid, te quiero.

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