Hold on. Is this Qwest? I'd know you anywhere.

I must admit, after a month in another country, the less adventurous side of me is starting to seek out Americanisms. I’m a little worn down by the endless lamb and haddock in the grocery store. I would be much happier if I could use a flashlight instead of a torch. I get upset sometimes by the shape of the light socket. It exhausts me to constantly translate the pounds required to make a purchase into the American dollars in our bank account. I can’t figure out why movie theatres (cinemas) would ever sell cold popcorn without butter. I just can’t.

And then, something happens that’s so recognizable, so comfortable, so familiar that it almost makes me weep. If it hadn’t made me so damn angry.

That’s right, friends. I had to call the telephone company to set up phone and broadband service.

You’ve had to do it too, I know, and so this conversation will sound almost like it came from your own brain:

Me: Hi. I need to set up telephone and broadband service.

Woman who sounds like she should be the first girl in any James Bond movie: Ms Finch Gnehm. there is no record of a line previously at your house. We'll have to send someone out on the 11th of never between 6:00 a.m. and 9:00 p.m. Will someone be available?

Me: I know that there's been a line here before. I can see it, plus the landlord confirms it. This house has been connected for ages.

James Bond woman: I'm sorry, Ms Finch Gnehm. We don't actually have your house listed as a residence. Are you living in a public park? No? Then you'll have to call the post office to make sure your house really exists. Ask them to contact NASA for a satellite image of the home. Fax us the image on NASA letterhead and then we can schedule an appointment. There will be an entirely unreasonable charge for this.

And then, as it turns out, that’s not enough. We have to prove that we have a dial tone, and then only after having a dial tone for five days can we access the network. Why? We don’t know. But there are certain things we have just come to expect.

Fortunately, after years of rigorous training by AT&T, ComCast and Qwest I already know how the rest of this dialogue goes.

Me: We have no dial tone.

British Telecom: Have you tried resetting the phone?

Me: This is a £4.85 phone. There is no reset button.
I have to constantly turn a crank just to keep it working.

British Telecom: Well, we can send someone out then. Can someone be available at the home between tomorrow morning and Cinco de Mayo?

But this pattern feels so safe. I know what the unfamiliar accent on the other end of the phone is going to say. I know I’m going to be frustrated, and yet I’m emotionally prepared.

Finding security in disappointment. British Telecom, I thank you.