How I became even worse at phones

Even to me, this seemed impossible. It was probably 99% my fault for assuming that changing operators in France wouldn’t be a ludicrously difficult task for no real reason. Lesson learned. All I wanted to do was switch to Free mobile, which offers a 2 euro/month subscription. Two euros. Incredible—what could go wrong! Previously, I was paying 20 euros for a monthly recharge, so I was excited about all of the future money I would be saving. I ordered a SIM card online—already a pretty ballsy move to leave my ability to communicate in the hands of French mail—and it surprisingly came right on time. I popped in the new card, validated it online, and...the card was not valid?

Luckily, this is when Katie was still here, and she explained that my phone was probably blocked by my prior operator, SFR.

Okay, that didn’t seem so hard to fix. I could surely just go online to my SFR account and find a link to unlock my phone. Sure enough, there was a tab called “unlock your SIM card.” Hooray! Such simplicity! I clicked the link and it led me to a page that just said: error. I got on a different browser...still: error. I tried on three separate computers, once again to no avail.

No problem, I would just go to SFR and get them to unlock it in person. Working with people is more productive in any case and my phone will be operating again in no time...

This is where the horrible game of French customer service roulette began. At the first SFR boutique, I had the following interaction:

Me: Hi, I need to unlock my phone. I switched services and the link online doesn’t work.
Guy at welcome desk: *Glares meanly*
Me: ...Uh...you know...the link...? *thinking that I am using the wrong word for link*
Guy: We can’t help you. It is impossible. You have to call someone.
Me: Right, but my phone doesn’t work. So I can’t...

And then I realized he had already decided there was absolutely no way he was helping me. I angrily walked to the SFR a street over, because ultimately in France it comes down to the person helping you and generally has nothing to do at all with the actual capabilities of whatever organization or service.

Luckily, after I explained my situation, I was given a number and asked to wait. This seemed like a good sign. Eventually, my number was called and I was helped by a super nice guy who has family in Missouri. We had a great conversation about the States/the Simpsons and I felt that he would undoubtedly solve all of my problems.

He tried the link online first, which continued to lead to the error page. I then proceeded to watch him talk on the phone for 30 minutes with someone about my phone.

From what I gathered, the person on the phone went through a really confusing series of realizations:

1. My line does not exist.
2. My phone was already unlocked.
3. Wait, no. My line does not exist
4. My phone cannot be unlocked.
5. Actually, my phone is already unlocked.

Even Oussama (the guy helping me) was confused. He then called someone else, who told him they would email me my code to unlock my phone. They also said it could take anywhere from 5 days to 4 weeks. Oussama either didn’t know I was eavesdropping or misunderstood, because he then told me I would get an email that night or the next day with my code and to call him if I didn’t. He wrote down his number/name, explaining: “it’s Oussama, you know, like bin Laden! Ha!”

Of course, the email never came. I then resorted to talking to SFR customer service online. They told me once again that the phone was already unlocked. I wasn’t accepting that this time around (mostly because I couldn’t see the person’s expression of disdain), and sent back a message explaining that it indeed was locked and that even if they thought it wasn’t I wanted my code.

The woman online said she would look at my file and send me an email. I naively thought that this might result in...any result at all. It did not. I then Facetimed Free customer service. They could do nothing. I moved my SIM card in and out of my phone about a million times. This also did nothing.

I decided to just give up for a few days until I could go to the SFR in Valenciennes. Unfortunately, the guy who helped me did 100% what Oussama did and received the exact same series of responses. His conclusion: “Your phone is unlocked, go talk to your new provider about your SIM card. I guess it’s broken!”

So, I went next door to Free, where they took out my SIM card, put it in another phone, showing me that the card was working perfectly fine. My phone was indeed just blocked.

I had to catch the train, but vowed that the next day I would go to the same SFR and prove to them that I am not an insane person. I had a whole speech prepared in which I made them put my SIM card in another phone and then did something smug with my eyebrows.

My speech ended up being unnecessary. The guy helping me was just like: “Oh yeah, this is locked. Really no other explanation.” He did everything the other guys did to a T, and gave me yet a different conclusion:

SFR man: Yeah, apparently you’ve already put in 3 requests and they are in the process of emailing you your code, which could take 5 days to 4 weeks.
Me: ...so.
SFR man: Yeah, in the meantime, I would just use a different phone.

Oh good, let me just go dig one out of my convenient stash of crappy French cellphones.

....I thought unlocking a phone was such a reasonable request. Surely this code exists on an easily accessible, online database and can be found in seconds. Otherwise, where exactly are these codes kept? Are they in locked file cabinets at SFR headquarters just sitting there, being ignored, mocking me with their impossible-to-get-to existence? Apparently, yes. 

In any case, after over two weeks I broke down and bought a 10 euro phone, not because I needed to contact people, but rather because of another “why France WHY” moment in which I HAD to have a cell phone in order to make any payment online (i.e. my rent).

WHYYYYYYYYYY. Anyway, this probably could have been summed up in less than 200 words, but if I ever live in France again I want to be able to go back and remember the mistakes of my past.

In other news, teaching is even better now that I’ve realized that every single class has more or less the same demographic. Here is my running list of profiles:

1. The timid, seemingly standoffish group of girls in the corner: I had extreme difficulty with this group in the beginning. They weren’t as actively annoying as the class clowns, but they refused to participate, rendering me entirely useless through their lack of caring. This frustrated me to no end. However, I discovered that these girls are not actually smug or too good for English—they’re just really really not comfortable speaking out loud. Once I got that, I started making lessons plans that catered to them (which should have been my goal all along because if I could interest that bunch I would be unstoppable in my crusade to make English fun) and they are probably my most effective.

2. The one who is more or less bilingual: These come in two varieties: the know-it-all and the thank-god-you-exist-in-the-world-where-can-I-get-more-of-these? The know-it-all can be summed up in this interaction that took place when they were doing a “create your own country” activity.

Bilingual know-it-all: You have written that the political system can be a democracy, dictatorship, or anarchy. Anarchy isn’t a political system. What is even the point of this?

Sigh...I don’t know. To speak in English maybe? To make you be creative while doing so, maybe? Not to teach you political science, maybe?? I mean, really, kid... never mind the fact that the majority of your classmates don’t know how to say how old they are, please, let me try to conduct a class in English about political theory. That should go over splendidly.

Anyway, the other doesn’t need explaining. They are just a delight.

The next category is the cut ups. Young teachers have to deal with these students carefully, because they are naturally less afraid of you than the other, older professors and basically dominate the class dynamic with their overbearing extravertedness. Yelling at them only makes them stop what they’re doing for a short amount of time and also kind of kills the mood, but allowing them to do what they want without saying anything has also been historically unsuccessful. Finally, I found the solution: my high school French teacher, Mr. Stewart. He never openly said to not do something (which translates to “now you have to do it so everyone thinks your cool” to high schoolers) or endorsed our behavior. We all loved and respected Mr. Stewart—mostly because he was hysterical—but also because he never yelled, but instead diverted our attention through humor. This usually involved making fun of us ruthlessly. I also realized that while you can’t make fun of the timid girls because they will more than likely cry, you can totally make fun of the cut ups. That’s what they live for. SO, this is now how I deal with the different varieties:

3. The one who thinks that comedy peaked with the invention of the F-word and shouts it periodically in a ridiculous French accent.

This one is easy to deal with, as all I have to do is play my trump card: I am American and in my 20s and therefore the encyclopedia for what is cool. If it’s an intermediate or advanced class, I usually stop what I’m doing and just stare sympathetically at the kid for a few seconds before saying something like: “There is nothing that sounds more awkward or lame than a French teenager with braces attempting to pronounce English cuss words.” This generally gets a response of “OOHHHHHHH” from the rest of the class and I briefly feel like I won a rap battle.

If the kids don’t understand English well, this dis doesn’t really get any recognition. So, instead, I once again stop what I’m doing and then just stare condescendingly at the kid for a minute. Think the way Mike looks at you in an argument: you don’t know exactly what he’s thinking, but you know he’s belittling you and it makes you feel stupid nonetheless.

4. The one who thinks that coolness peaked with the invention of sex and that if he talks about it enough people will think that he has actually had it. (Grandparents, I apologize for the following paragraph. High schoolers are gross.)

So, these are always fun and by far the easiest to deal with. It’s different every time, but the best example I can think of is the other day when I was playing a family feud-type game with a class. We had just finished the category “Name a sport in which a ball is used.” I should have known better in hindsight. When I turned around, a kid raised his hand and said: “Wait, what about SEX, there are BALLS in SEX, SEX is a sport!!”

I said nothing and turned to the board to write the next category: Things teenage boys do to look cool that actually make them look painfully lame.

This was also met with a chorus of OHHHHHs, and on cue a girl said: “talk about sex even though he does not know about it.”

That girl’s team was given an unfair amount of bonus points. I also added “still has braces and talks about sex.” It’s just too easy. Luckily, cut ups can take a joke, so he just laughed and then we moved on with life.

5. The one who is actually good at English and very participative but simultaneously extremely disruptive if not kept on topic.

You can’t shut these kids down because when they participate everyone else gets excited and will usually also be more participative. However, they can get out of hand if ignored for too long. I mostly just try to distract them/use them as much as possible in a way that focuses on the lesson and not on their antics.

Then, there are of course: the one who has no idea what’s going on, the one who does not care at all about school or English in the least, and the Carsons. An ideal class ratio for me is 5% cut ups (I like having someone to make fun of), 5% bilinguals (when I awkwardly don’t know how to translate something into French I pretend like I’m giving the class a task and ask them what they think the translation is (Thank you, Socrates) and without bilinguals this sometimes doesn’t play out...), and 90% Carsons (I really think this goes without explaining...I mean, I didn’t know Carson in high school, but it’s safe to bet that he was a teacher’s dream.)

There are certainly many more, but those seem to be the most prevalent. 

In the best news, we received the most amazing care package last week from my mom. It made me entirely forget about my phone issues and contained an endless amount of Christmas cheer. I didn’t have any idea what I wanted for Christmas, yet Mom somehow managed to get me everything that I desperately wanted. Also, a big thanks goes out to Nanny for getting the package over here! There are pictures...but they are on Carson’s currently dead and charger-less iPhone. I’ll be sure to add them to the next post. 

Also (last thing I promise) in Christmas cheer news, I made an advent calendar-type-thing that has 24 days of tasks. Some tasks are mine, some are for us both, but most are for Carson. They are also generally very weird and I wanted to share my favorite so far. On December 7th, Carson had the following task: Photoshop yourself on top of/riding/somehow interacting with a fruitcake. What resulted was a veritable masterpiece.

Best Christmas gift he’s ever given me.