Marital tensions, call centres

Sandy acts weird around logistics

Sandy did something pretty weird when it came to this move, particularly given that he used to be in the military and is supposedly Logistics Man. When we were talking about moving, one of the questions was whether he could work from the Spanish house or not. We are, after all, in a small village which is long on goats but not much else. Working out there required two things: broadband Internet access, to allow Sandy to get onto IBM Starship Enterprise HQ - no small undertaking - and an airport which could fly him to meetings in Ankara or Munich, or wherever.

He decided it was all hunky-dory: Oliver, the previous owner, had told him there was broadband, and Almeria airport was all he needed. That was in March, when we decided to go to Spain. This is what then happened in about April:

Sandy: We have to sort out that broadband, you know. (We, in this context, means, you).
Me: I thought it was sorted out.
Sandy: No, it's not connected up. We need to get the software to connect it up.
Me; (Glazing over at thought of technology) How do we do that?
Sandy: You have to get it from Telefonica, we have to get them to come round to the house and fix it.
Me: (Heart sinking) Oh? How do you know we've got Internet?
Sandy: Oliver showed it to me. I saw it working, and there is a satellite on the side of the house, and a router. It's there, it just isn't connected up.
Me (thinks: what is a router?)
Sandy: Yes, you better call them and arrange it.

A bit later, he says in a very grouchy way:

Sandy(Staring at laptop, in usual position on sofa. When Sandy is sulking, he sits on the sofa hunched over his laptop. In fact, inasmuch as quite a fat man can, he starts to actually look like a laptop.): This is a real problem with these flights. This is going to be a real problem.
Me: What is?
Sandy: I can't fly anywhere from Almeria. There are basically no flights except to the UK.
Me: Well, didn't you know that? You must have checked the flights.
Sandy: Well I did, but not in depth.
Me: What do you mean, not in depth?
Sandy (banging away on the laptop): I looked at it, but now I look at it more, I can see there are no flights.
Me: Well, we'll just have to work it out.
Sandy: Well, I can't fly from there. I don't know how I'm going to work it out.
Me: Can't you fly from Alicante?
Sandy: Yes, but it's an extra hour on the journey. (tap, tap)
Me: I dont understand why you're just looking at this now.
Sandy: Silence (Tap, tap). Frowns.

Later on, he points out that if there are no flights, this would mean I Cant Work, which would mean I Would Have to Fly to Madrid, Never Be at Home, never see the children and they would be very sad (I was not mentioned as never being seen). He is clearly majorly stressed: he stares at the laptop all the time although it clearly has no answers.


I then call Sylvia, my friend in Madrid, and ask her to call Telefonica for starters. She is very obliging and tries, but it turns out Telefonica say we don't have an Internet account. We then try Movistar, since we also seem to have a bill from Movistar, which Sandy thinks might relate to the satellite dish on the side of the house. Movistar (which is kind of part of Telefonica, but kind of not - not entirely clear in the call centre) don't do Internet.

At about this point, Sylvia suggests I speak to an engineer, Fernando, she knows in Agua Amarga. Why don't I call him and get him to sort it out? Maybe, but I decide to have another go at working out whether we have an Internet account.

I speak to Movistar and have several nice conversations with people in local mobile shops in Vera who offer me little cards and things. Then we realise I am after Internet and they don't do that. I have to call Telefonica from the UK. It takes me a while to find a number that works. I then get Telefonica Movil (not Movistar), and am in the wrong place; I have to speak to Telefonica Fixed. After a while, I do. A lot of Spanish call centre people are very patient. "Mira, Dona Juliet, this is no good, you are in the wrong place. No, they have no Internet registered on this phone number. Dona Juliet, you call this number..." I start to bang things on the floor.



Sandy calls and asks me if I have sorted it out. I shout at him, he says:
Sandy: Well, we have to sort it out, or I Can't Work.
Me: What am I supposed to do?
Sandy: I don't know, but we have to get it sorted. If I can't get online, I will have to go back to the UK. I will not see the kids, they will be upset.

Back to Telefonica: we have to speak to Telefonica Fixed, not Telefonica Mobile. I speak to them. No, you can't have Internet where you are, they say. But I think I do, I say. No, you don't, they say. But I have a dish on my house, I say. We don't know what kind of system you have, they say. Can an engineer come and look? No, not if you haven't got an account. Bang, bang.

In the end, one lady (I have spoken to most of Telefonica's call centre by now) says that I can have some kind of Internet and do I want to contract it now? But it is not ASDL something, it is something else something. I am stabbing in the dark now. OK, I think, I'll have it anyway, on the basis that something might be better than nothing. I organise to amend the account to take whatever it is. Will we now have broadband? I have no idea. I call Fernando and say I'll call him from the house if it doesn't work. The nice lady, Maria, gives me a magic number which she says I need to input to the computer to link up. I am pleased to have the number: in my mind this is the code that will solve all our problems. I ask Maria if I can just put it into any computer: she says yes.

Later, I am not sure. I call back to ask about the number: Telefonica then tell me to call their technical team. I do. They put me onto some local technical office, who say the number hasnt' got the right number of digits, also it is not for broadband, which would connect automatically. Can they come out and look? No, they don't do that: I need to speak to the main Telefonica number.

We go there in the last week of May, accompanied by Lizzie, the ex-nanny, Jane and her girls. Xtina and Eddie are going to join us, so there will be lots of witnesses to the marital discord.

We get there: Sandy logs on, spends a lot of time doing stuff and none of it works. It goes tlike this for a bit:

Sandy: You had better call Telefonica.
Me: But they wont speak to me.
Sandy: Well, we have to do something.
Kids: Can we have an ice cream? Can we go to the waterpark?
Other adults: How about a glass of wine? Cor, this is great, being on holiday!

I call Telefonica again, this time I can use the Spanish number. They ask me what kind of Internet I have: I don't know. I tell them they have just sold me something so surely they know what it is? They say, they don't know what system I have, they are just the billing people? They point out that the phone line is very bad and needs fixing: they will call me back. Bleep, bleep.
Nobody calls back. I call back several times.

Eventually, I speak to a nice marketing man who says I need a new satellite dish, that will just be for the Internet. It will cost a lot, 2000 Euros. I dont care: by now I wouldnt mind if it cost 10,000. I feel I am finally getting somewhere. Does that mean I will have Broadband? It is very important for my husband's work! By now, all the Telefonica people know about my husband and how he needs broadband to work, but I suspect they don't actually give a toss. Why would they?

I call Fernando and he says he could also supply this satellite dish for me, but with another operator. He will come out, but it will cost about 1000 Euros to come out. I say I'll call him back a bit later. Bang, bang.

Just as I am about to give up, Telefonica, miraculously, calls me back. Things like this happen in Spain, I have noticed. They are sending an engineer out to look at the system. At last, a human being will come and see what we have in the house.

He turns up the next day. Everyone else is by the pool: I am walking about attached to the phone and Sandy is on the laptop. The engineer is quite silent: he does a lot of things on the laptop and realigns the satellite dish. He says it is nonsense to have a new dish; the two signals would get confused and our village is too far from the satellite, that is the real problem. But the marketing man told me, I said. He sniffs: these marketing people don't understand the technology, he says. Shocking, I say, from the depths of my PR experience. I haven't understood most of what he said, but the dish is now nice and straight.

What do you suggest? I ask. He says we could go down and work in Lubrin. Yes, there is broadband there. It seems odd to me that the satellite is millions of miles up in the sky and yet it makes a big difference if you are in Lubrin or in Los Herreras, 15 minutes away. We are facing the wrong way, apparently. No chance of broadband in the house? No, all we have is a dial-up line - it is ok for email but not more than one computer. Oh.

Sandy is still sulking. He goes out in the car to buy a phone card which may let him do 3G or something. He goes all the way to Vera and the shop is not open. He waits for it to open, but has left his passport behind, which he needs. He has to come back again, then go again. The shop is then closed. He goes back later, with his passport. Eventually, the girl does the paperwork and says it will be sent off: come back tomorrow. He is very silent by the pool.

I go over to the neighbours. Juana's son's novia, girlfriend, Maria, is also there: she is also our plumber, Gilberto's, daughter. I explain my trials with Telefonica: they all agree it is very hadrd dealing with Telefonica though they look very vague when I mention "banda ancha", Broadband. What is that? I can see them thinking. The Spanish are very switched on to e-commerce, but maybe not in Los Herreras. Maria, however, works for the Ayuntiamento - she says there is broadband in Lubrin and also that they are going to put up a new mast in Saeti (our area).
Oh, when? I say. "Soon, quite soon." This year? Maybe, could be. Maybe next year. Anyway, they have written to the residents about it. You don't want to go and buy a satellite dish now and then find they've done it all free.

I try talking to Sandy. It is uphill work: he is like Eeyore. I point out angrily that it is not my fault he didnt check if there was broadband or not. If it was that important, why didnt he check? He says Oliver told him. As Oliver was, on a generous interpretation, absent-minded, and on a less generous one, a bankrupt, financial disaster who scarpered back to the UK leaving lots of unpaid bills, you could wonder why Sandy Oliver saying anything was gospel. Sandy goes back down to look for his 3G card. The girl has forgotten to send off the paperwork: he will have to come back again.

After a while, I talk to Jane. I explain Sandy's unreasonable behaviour and like most people she seems to think it was my decision to come to Spain and somehow Sandy has been corralled into it. Is that what he told her? Not exactly, but clearly while his mouth said it was a joint decision his body language was saying I Was Pushed. I didnt effing push him. I gave him several get-outs - the last few times I was approached about jobs I asked him if he was quite sure and he said, yes, though on reflection he used words like "we 've made the decision now, we have to stick to it," and "it's the best thing for the children." He is in a foul mood: I hate him and want to leave. Jane and I wonder if he ignored the information about the flights and bloody banda ancha until it was too late because subconsciously he really wanted to go to Spain, so was ignoring any logistical obstacles. I think this is right. He has been quite unhappy at work for some time and I think he wants to escape - but he has to burrow his way out backwards and with his eyes closed, as usual, rather than just picking up the spade and going for it.

The fact is, it all ended OK, the way things do in Spain. You try for ages to do something through the official channels, and then, as if by magic, someone helps you. We went down to Lubrin to se the school's headmistress and stopped by the Ayuntiamento. There was Maria, who gave us a password and user name. We logged in, sitting in the bar, and lo and behold, there was free broadband and Sandy got onto Starship Enterprise Flight Deck. A cloud lifted; he was suddenly connected with the Mother Ship. He became a different person and started talking to me about car brands, having not spoken to me for some days.

At the same time, Juan Manas, our builder, was in the bar. I had told him about the Internet problem and how we might have to rent a small office space somewhere in Lubrin. All smiles, he offered us a desk in his office there if we wanted one, where there is also working broadband. Sandy said Juan Manas was a sharp operator, and was going to charge us a fee that would cover his own internet costs, but I didnt see it that way. Besides, Juan Manas himself had told me that he liked helping people, not for the money, but because he wanted them to be happy living in his town. And I believe him. Yes, Sylvia - who was liaising with him because his Andaluz accent can be hard work on the phone - had given him an earful about not leaving the house tidy and not putting the glass in the windows yet. But he wasn't just guilty - he was being a Mr Fixit, which is what he likes.

Before we reached this happy conclusion, we had some very dark moments. On the Villaricos beach, Sandy was silently lying there, exuding resentment. There might as well have been a bubble coming out of his head saying: You made me come here where I can't work and have no broadband. When Jane and I were talking about what I was going to do (everyone keeps asking me that), I said I didnt know yet but wanted to take some time. She agreed and said, of course and I said, I do have a year's pay off. Sandy then raised his head slightly to say that the payoff had been spent. Subtle message: you should get a job!

I was so angry I nearly exploded; instead I walked off down the beach and didnt come back for a bit. Nobody knew it but I was crying to myself and thinking about leaving Sandy. I felt there was no way I could go out to Spain and embark on this adventure with him if he had that attitude. I He had a real cheek: the money was paid off the mortgage which meant we could afford to live on less, so it was contributing just as much as if it were in the bank. I could only think he said it to make a point about how I ought to get a job. He kept pushing me about it, even though we both know that would not be feasible when I am spending all my time talking to call centres. I don't even know what is behind it as if you ask him he denies it and says he doesn't care (note the language) what I do, it does not bother him, he does not think about my job. On the beach, I was stomping along trying to think of how I could leave him, complicated by the fact we were going to Spain. I thought probably I could share the house with him and just not speak to him. When I got back, all the other adults had "handle with care" faces on and were trying to be extra polite and constructive and probably thinking how annoying it was to come on holiday and have to see us have a big row. I downloaded a lot of my views to Eddie who was in the kitchen trying to cook up a huge meal. He wasnt generally listening as he was focused on the squid but he did agree with me that now was not the time for Sandy to think of reasons why it was not logistically possible to live in Spain.


I blame a lot of it on IBM. Their Human Resources HQ - which is some giant evil computer in Hungary - kept saying Sandy had to be based in places like Germany, based on some computer analysis of where he had worked in the last 6 months. He pointed out this changed every 6 months but the Hungarian computer was not interested. All this followed a lot of to-ing and fro-ing about whether he could, or could not, be based in Madrid, during the course of which Sandy changed his mind several times and peed off the partner based there because he didnt accept a local job on a local salary. In the end, it has all worked out and he is going to be based in Madrid, but we have had several evenings of Sandy head-in-hands, sighing and giving me his "this is a big problem" speech. He always expects the worst and is very black and white about it. One minute it will be no way, there is no way this will ever be resolved and my career is going nowhere; then suddenly some bloke in IBM will call someone and suggest Sandy joins some other team and it will all be hunky-dory again. Whatever I say during these interludes is rejected due to the fact that I don't understand, which is quite accurate.


All this has taught me a couple of things.

1) You realise how badly you speak a language when you have to go through a call centre in it. I spent three and a half hours on the phone to Telefonica, and have just spent another 30 on the phone to BBVA, the bank, trying to sort out Internet access to our Spanish bank account. Mysteriously, they have a wrong passport number for me: it bears no ressemblance to my own which means I can't input it to the Internet which requires this information.

2) In Spain, if you try hard, it don't mean a thing, as the Specials said. It's when you give up and take it easy that some nice person suddenly just solves it for you. After about 3 calls on the passport, a man just gave me the number they had and told me to use that.

3) People are not logical, even my husband. On the surface, they may seem to be, but underneath, they are being driven by hidden psychological motivations. I know this about myself, but I always assume that everyone else is completely rational.

So we dont exactly have broadband, but we know where it is and the good news it is in a bar in the square and it is free. Later on, some time this year, maybe next year, there will be a new mast, and maybe we'll get it in the house. In the Ayuntiamento, I saw a sign that said to call Gloria at Telefonica for information about rural internet, which I will do when we get out there.

Meanwhile, there is a new boiler, and I managed to read the Spanish instructions and light it, and the electrics appear to work. This will not be the end, but at least we have broken the ice.