For some reason, having a home phone line is considered super important in Mexico. When we signed up for cell phone accounts, we had to provide two references, and both people had to have home phones. When I went to the doctor’s office last month, they would not accept my cell phone number on the paperwork. “Don’t you have a home number you can put instead?” the receptionist asked me. I had to look it up on my cell phone because I can never remember it.
The crazy thing is, 99 percent of the time when my home phone line rings, it’s not for me. But I never know immediately, because no one ever identifies themselves, and you have to do this whole polite “buenos días” dance at the beginning.
This is what happened when my phone rang five minutes ago. It’s muy típico.
Me: Bueno.
Woman’s voice: Buenos días.
Me: Buenos días.
Woman: Hi, yes, can you please connect me to Mr. Edgar Rodriguez?
Me: You have the wrong number.
Woman: I’m sorry, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?
Me: I’m sorry, but whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?
Woman: This is Banamex. Do you currently have a bank account with Banamex, or another bank?
Me: I have a bank account already.
Woman: Bueno, hasta–
Me: [click]
All these wrong-number callers are actually starting to make me a little loopy. When one lady called a few weeks ago and asked for Juan Valdarrama or something like that, I said: “Valdarrama?” And she said, “Sí.” Sounding all hopeful. I said: “Oh no, you’ve got the wrong number.” And then I laughed to myself. She kind of sputtered — “I have… I have..?” Then she hung up.
Maybe this means I need a hobby.
They just passed a bill forcing everyone to register their cellphone numbers. Since having a land line requires more paperwork, I guess it’s a better way to prove that you are who you say you are, instead of just a cellphone number. You could, technically, get a cellphone number for 150 pesos and go about giving false info about yourself.