SOMOS MEXICANOS

Back to Migración this morning for our FM2s. See those thumbs? They left their prints with the government. Or perhaps I voted in an Afghan election.

Now we can do something else we've been trying to do--give some of our money to a bank. We went there this afternoon, signed our names on the waiting list and waited. When our names were called we sat in front of an "ejecutivo" and told him we wanted to open an account. We proudly put our FM2s on his desk. "Do you have a bill?" he asked. No, but we had our lease. No good, he said. You have to have an electric or gas bill. What about Cablecom, el sr J. asked. No good. Phooey, he said. How about a water bill, he said. We just got it today, but it's in the name of our landlady. Not a problem, says el sr Ejecutivo, as long as the address is the same as the lease. The problem was, the bill was at home. Back we go for the bill. When we returned, el sr E waved us up to his desk. Sounding good, isn't it. Then he gave us a paper and asked us to write the names, addresses, and phone numbers of three references (just like when we tried to get a Telcel account). Panic ensues. I root through my various notebooks, el sr J looks on his cellphone. We've got the names, but addresses and phone numbers? They're all on the computer at home (except for the landlady's, which I had in my notebook). El sr E is multitasking, talking to someone on the phone as he rifles though some documents. El sr J is trying to tell him we know the street addresses but not the numbers and that these people are all upstanding citizens. During this exchange, I notice that el sr E is motioning that what we have written is enough. "He says it's ok," I whispered to el sr J. And it was. We opened our account just before closing time. I noticed on the form el sr E had filled out that our nacionalidad was listed as "mexicano/a."

The new thing we learned about each other in this event is that el sr J likes to chat (nervously) during the waiting periods between something/nothing happening in bureaucratic situations, and I like to go into silent, submissive mode (not typical). Hmmmm. . . . .