ing the phone when we go to bed. This prevents anyone from calling our number and asking us to run outside in the middle of the night to find someone we don’t know.

And, get this. The phone company rarely changes the name on the account. The phone numbers are assigned, at least still in Guanajuato, to the person who originally opened the account and are rarely changed. So, we can, and do, receive calls from people looking for the soul who owned this phone number sometime in the Middle Ages. This person still has people wanting to call and have a chat.

Telling these Mexicans in Guanajuato that they’ve reached the wrong number doesn’t work. They will always ask if they’ve reached 555-5555. When you affirm this, you can

This conversation took place at 2:30 a.m. one night in the not-too-distance past in my home in Guanajuato, Mexico. To save time I have translated it into English.

Mexican: Hello, is Ramon there?

Me: I am afraid you have the wrong number.

Mexican: Did I dial 555-5555?

Me: Yes.

Mexican: Then I got the right number. I would like to talk to Ramon, please, if it’s not a bother.

Me: There is no Ramon here.

Mexican: But I dialed the correct number.

Me: Yes, you did but Ramon doesn’t live here.

Mexican: (After a long and pregnant pause) Oh, I see. Well, then, can you go and get Ramon for me?

Me: Say, what?

Mexican: Can you run to wherever Ramon is and get him to the phone for me?

Me: You still don’t understand. This is not Ramon’s house.

Mexican: Oh, I get that. Are you a gringo or something? Never mind. Can you just go and get him?

Me: But, I don’t know any Ramon.

Mexican: I am sure he lives in your Barrio (neighborhood). Can you ask your neighbors where he lives and then go get him?

Me: No, I don’t think I can do that.

Mexican: You’ve got to be a gringo. Ok, Let me ask you this: Can I leave a message for Ramon? When you see him, can you give it to him?

Me: But I don’t know any Ramon!

Mexican: ?Qu? Padre!

Me: I am going to hang up now.

Mexican: Ok, Gringo-man, just tell Ramon when you see him that Chucho called.

Click

When I worked as an international and local operator for AT &T, I used to put calls like this through to Mexico all the time. You would be give a phone number, dial it, and find that it belonged to the one and only phone in the entire barrio. You would sometimes put these calls through in the middle of the night (any time was bad enough) to find that it wasn’t the actual phone number of the person you were seeking but it was “a phone” somewhere, belonging to someone, and you had to ask the poor schmuck who answered the phone, all bleary-eyed and awakened from a deep sleep, to get dressed and run to get someone who didn’t live there.

Sound confusing? You don’t know the half of it.

Once, it took me two hours to put a call through to somewhere in central Mexico. Each number I rang for this guy in Dallas, Texas, would be answered by someone other than the person he was trying to call. Each person gave me a different number to try.

It is like the Mexicans had this intricate social networking in place for sending and receiving calls. During the late 70’s and early 80’s, phones were not as numerous as they are today. So, a neighborhood of three thousand would all share the same phone number and phone.

Today, apparently some still think they are calling “a number” at which they can ask for someone who “might” live in the barrio, and you will run and find them at their whim. We get these calls around the clock.

We’ve taken to unplugging the phone when we go to bed. This prevents anyone from calling our number and asking us to run outside in the middle of the night to find someone we don’t know.

And, get this. The phone company rarely changes the name on the account. The phone numbers are assigned, at least still in Guanajuato, to the person who originally opened the account and are rarely changed. So, we can, and do, receive calls from people looking for the soul who owned this phone number sometime in the Middle Ages. This person still has people wanting to call and have a chat.

Telling these Mexicans in Guanajuato that they’ve reached the wrong number doesn’t work. They will always ask if they’ve reached 555-5555. When you affirm this, you can

for me?

Me: You still don’t understand. This is not Ramon’s house.

Mexican: Oh, I get that. Are you a gringo or something? Never mind. Can you just go and get him?

Me: But, I don’t know any Ramon.

Mexican: I am sure he lives in your Barrio (neighborhood). Can you ask your neighbors where he lives and then go get him?

Me: No, I don’t think I can do that.

Mexican: You’ve got to be a gringo. Ok, Let me ask you this: Can I leave a message for Ramon? When you see him, can you give it to him?

Me: But I don’t know any Ramon!

Mexican: ?Qu? Padre!

Me: I am going to hang up now.

Mexican: Ok, Gringo-man, just tell Ramon when you see him that Chucho called.

Click

When I worked as an international and local operator for AT &T, I used to put calls like this through to Mexico all the time. You would be give a phone number, dial it, and find that it belonged to the one and only phone in the entire barrio. You would sometimes put these calls through in the middle of the night (any time was bad enough) to find that it wasn’t the actual phone number of the person you were seeking but it was “a phone” somewhere, belonging to someone, and you had to ask the poor schmuck who answered the phone, all bleary-eyed and awakened from a deep sleep, to get dressed and run to get someone who didn’t live there.

Sound confusing? You don’t know the half of it.

Once, it took me two hours to put a call through to somewhere in central Mexico. Each number I rang for this guy in Dallas, Texas, would be answered by someone other than the person he was trying to call. Each person gave me a different number to try.

It is like the Mexicans had this intricate social networking in place for sending and receiving calls. During the late 70’s and early 80’s, phones were not as numerous as they are today. So, a neighborhood of three thousand would all share the same phone number and phone.

Today, apparently some still think they are calling “a number” at which they can ask for someone who “might” live in the barrio, and you will run and find them at their whim. We get these calls around the clock.

We’ve taken to unplugging the phone when we go to bed. This prevents anyone from calling our number and asking us to run outside in the middle of the night to find someone we don’t know.

And, get this. The phone company rarely changes the name on the account. The phone numbers are assigned, at least still in Guanajuato, to the person who originally opened the account and are rarely changed. So, we can, and do, receive calls from people looking for the soul who owned this phone number sometime in the Middle Ages. This person still has people wanting to call and have a chat.

Telling these Mexicans in Guanajuato that they’ve reached the wrong number doesn’t work. They will always ask if they’ve reached 555-5555. When you affirm this, you can

When I worked as an international and local operator for AT &T, I used to put calls like this through to Mexico all the time. You would be give a phone number, dial it, and find that it belonged to the one and only phone in the entire barrio. You would sometimes put these calls through in the middle of the night (any time was bad enough) to find that it wasn’t the actual phone number of the person you were seeking but it was “a phone” somewhere, belonging to someone, and you had to ask the poor schmuck who answered the phone, all bleary-eyed and awakened from a deep sleep, to get dressed and run to get someone who didn’t live there.

Sound confusing? You don’t know the half of it.

Once, it took me two hours to put a call through to somewhere in central Mexico. Each number I rang for this guy in Dallas, Texas, would be answered by someone other than the person he was trying to call. Each person gave me a different number to try.

It is like the Mexicans had this intricate social networking in place for sending and receiving calls. During the late 70’s and early 80’s, phones were not as numerous as they are today. So, a neighborhood of three thousand would all share the same phone number and phone.

Today, apparently some still think they are calling “a number” at which they can ask for someone who “might” live in the barrio, and you will run and find them at their whim. We get these calls around the clock.

We’ve taken to unplugging the phone when we go to bed. This prevents anyone from calling our number and asking us to run outside in the middle of the night to find someone we don’t know.

And, get this. The phone company rarely changes the name on the account. The phone numbers are assigned, at least still in Guanajuato, to the person who originally opened the account and are rarely changed. So, we can, and do, receive calls from people looking for the soul who owned this phone number sometime in the Middle Ages. This person still has people wanting to call and have a chat.

Telling these Mexicans in Guanajuato that they’ve reached the wrong number doesn’t work. They will always ask if they’ve reached 555-5555. When you affirm this, you can

ll through to somewhere in central Mexico. Each number I rang for this guy in Dallas, Texas, would be answered by someone other than the person he was trying to call. Each person gave me a different number to try.

It is like the Mexicans had this intricate social networking in place for sending and receiving calls. During the late 70’s and early 80’s, phones were not as numerous as they are today. So, a neighborhood of three thousand would all share the same phone number and phone.

Today, apparently some still think they are calling “a number” at which they can ask for someone who “might” live in the barrio, and you will run and find them at their whim. We get these calls around the clock.

We’ve taken to unplugging the phone when we go to bed. This prevents anyone from calling our number and asking us to run outside in the middle of the night to find someone we don’t know.

And, get this. The phone company rarely changes the name on the account. The phone numbers are assigned, at least still in Guanajuato, to the person who originally opened the account and are rarely changed. So, we can, and do, receive calls from people looking for the soul who owned this phone number sometime in the Middle Ages. This person still has people wanting to call and have a chat.

Telling these Mexicans in Guanajuato that they’ve reached the wrong number doesn’t work. They will always ask if they’ve reached 555-5555. When you affirm this, you can

ing the phone when we go to bed. This prevents anyone from calling our number and asking us to run outside in the middle of the night to find someone we don’t know.

And, get this. The phone company rarely changes the name on the account. The phone numbers are assigned, at least still in Guanajuato, to the person who originally opened the account and are rarely changed. So, we can, and do, receive calls from people looking for the soul who owned this phone number sometime in the Middle Ages. This person still has people wanting to call and have a chat.

Telling these Mexicans in Guanajuato that they’ve reached the wrong number doesn’t work. They will always ask if they’ve reached 555-5555. When you affirm this, you can expect a thirty-minute conversation trying to convince them you don’t know Do?a Carrillo.

Our nightly ritual, the last thing we say to each other instead of “Honey, I love you.” is:

“Honey, did you unplug the phone?”