The Italian Post office sells cellular
phones and provided calling plans. They compete with the private cellular
providers. This is unheard of in the U.S, where only private companies provide
cellular service and phones.
The first time I went to the post
office to buy an Italian cell phone, a student at the University helped me
navigate the language barrier to get a phone with some minutes. All I had to do
was provide Euros to the Post Master.
Then my phone ran out of minutes, and
I needed to “recharge” my phone. The Post Office does not have an Internet site
to recharge or add minutes using debit cards. So I had to physically visit the
post office on my own. Italians, I found out, do not trust payments made
on-line.
Then the adventure started!
Having visited the Post Office before, I had noticed the
post office had a queuing system where customers would take a number. Looking
around, I noticed a yellow box inside the entrance that looked like a numbering
system.
Examining the options on the face of
the box, it was hard to tell what ticket to take, because the directions were
in Italian. One option had a euro sign on it, another one had a icon that
looked like the outline of a stamp. The third one had the words Finanze, which
meant financial, and the fourth one had the word ‘Internationale”.
I ruled out the Finanze and
Internationale ticket options right away. Looking inside the post office, I
noticed people with packages or white slips in their hands lingering around the
desk that had a green stamp icon above the window. People waiting for the desk
that had a euro sign above it did not have anything in their hands.
I took a number for the desk with the
stamp and the desk with the euro sign.
My number came up for the desk with
the euro sign. A lady was standing behind the counter. Her dark hair was pulled
back and she had lines running across her tanned face. At the counter I asked
in my broken Italian to add euros to my phone. The woman behind the counter
looked at me and frowned. I showed her my phone, and said “euro e phone,
recharger”. She threw up her hands in frustration in like she had given up.
The customer at the counter next to me
said he would help me. He spoke five words to her in Italian and she understood
that I wanted to add euros to my phone.
I wrote down my cell phone number on a
piece of paper. She read the number and the same exasperated hands flew up in
the air, because she could not read my “American” numbers. American numbers?
The man came back over and put a cross
mark through the middle of the 7’s, and turned my 1 into something that looked
like a teepee. Then she understood the numbers for my cell phone.
He also said a few more things to her.
She took my money and gave it to a another lady a few counters down. The other lady’s
dark, wavy hair was was all over the place, like she had put her hands through
it many times. Her face had lines and she looked stressed. She was wearing a
white, long sleeved, wrinkled shirt. She had a lot of tickets on her desk to
process.
The lady helping me returned to the
station, stared at me and didn’t say anything. I thought to myself, this lady
just took my money and didn’t give me anything. And why is she just standing
there staring at me? Just
wait and see what happens, I told myself.
A blonde haired lady walked by behind
the counter. She looked like the manager. She was wearing a white, pressed
shirt and black pants. Her hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail in the
back. She also had the stress lines across her face. She was frowning and
closely inspecting the workers as she passed. She spoke some words to the lady
serving me, who almost jumped when the blonde spoke to her. My server threw up
her hands in reply to the blonde lady’s questions. The blonde lady passed by.
After five minutes, the lady helping
me walked over to the ticket lady, picked up a piece of paper and gave it to
me.
The slip of paper showed my payment to
get my phone recharged. Then I realized that this post office did not allow
servers to handle cash, and all cash transactions went through the stressed out
ticket lady in the center.
The lady at the counter said,
“Arrivaderci!”.
I left the post office feeling
thankful about the American post office.
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