We Laughed So Hard...

Setting up utilities for a new apartment

We traveled down to Vila Real de Santo Antonio (VRSA) on the 14th, so we could begin the move. It appears that shrinkage is a problem in VRSA…as again the apartment seemed smaller. The bathrooms are tiny compared to our Cascais apartment, as is the kitchen. We will make it work, but I am not sure we will be inviting family to visit.

Expectations

Now to be fair, the owner and property manager went out of their way to welcome us and make us feel comfortable. Heat/air conditioning splits have been installed in the living room and all bedrooms, the apartment was immaculate and the property manager even helped us unpack the car.

The owner also will keep all utilities in his name. “We will send you an email once a month with a summary and a copy of all the bills,” he explained. And thus, we were relieved of the task of getting the water, electricity, and wifi/tv in our names.

For, as you will learn below, this is not always an easy task. When we got the water switched to our name in Cascais our realtor, Elizabeth, went with us. And we were very happy she did! But our friends’ (Mike and Mary) experience with getting the utilities in their name was not quite so straightforward.

Fortunately, Elizabeth was their realtor too. So after nearly two weeks of frustration with online registration and multiple phone calls, Elizabeth agreed to drive Mike to the electric company headquarters. What follows is Mike’s retelling of the story from their blog The Cook and the Writer. With his permission, I have included the part that I read aloud to Denise with tears streaming down my face due to laughter.

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From Mike’s Quest for Power:

Barbarians at the Gates

On Tuesday morning Elizabeth drove us to the town of Oeiras, about 10 minutes away by car, to find the office of the electric company. It was in a five-story building in an office park that could have been anywhere in the world.  As we walked to the door, Elizabeth told me, “We’re not leaving until we get an answer.”  I figured we were in for a long morning.

We walked into the lobby at about 10:20 am and Elizabeth spoke to the receptionist.  This was the first of a series of conversations where I was the subject, but not an active participant, since it took place in Portuguese.  But since most of these discussions became animated, I could generally follow the gist of what was being said. The tone of voice, volume, and body language do a pretty good job of conveying meaning.

Elizabeth explained our purpose to the receptionist.  I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I could tell by the gestures and the tone of the conversation that the receptionist was telling Elizabeth that no one here could solve our problem. 

But Elizabeth was insistent, and I began to think of her as a Portuguese pit bull. They went back and forth for several minutes. I could tell Elizabeth was repeating the problems that we had encountered:  We had submitted the online forms multiple times and gotten errors.  She had called the suggested helplines multiple times and gotten the same response – “I can’t help you”.  After several cycles of explanation – negative response – repeated request, Elizabeth came and sat down next to me.  “She will call someone to talk to us”, she said.

The receptionist made a phone call and a few minutes later, a young woman came into the lobby, apparently from up on the fifth floor.  I don’t recall that she introduced herself or even smiled as she approached. We stood in the corner of the lobby.  She listened to Elizabeth’s explanation and again indicated that they could not solve the problem here. (I heard the word aqui – “here” – several times along with her head shaking.)  Apparently, she told Elizabeth that we would have to call someone else.  She couldn’t help us.  I’m sure that at this point Elizabeth repeated our story of calling the no-help lines and told her that we weren’t leaving until we got the problem resolved. 

As the conversation continued, their voices gradually got louder.  I could tell the young woman was getting irritated.  Elizabeth maintained a calm, but assertive composure.  At one point, the young woman took a couple of steps backward, as if she was preparing to flee.  She said something to the receptionist and then left the lobby.  

Elizabeth and I sat back down.  She told me that the young woman had agreed to call someone else in the organization who could help us and was going back upstairs to do so.  I figured she was gone for good. 

So we continued waiting.  I had anticipated that getting a resolution would take all morning, if not most of the day, so I was content to bide my time.  There are times when all you can do is recognize that events are out of your control and you might as well just enjoy the show. I was curious to see what happened next.  

While I read emails on my phone, Elizabeth made some phone calls.   

After about 20 minutes, nothing had happened. Elizabeth said she had called the company’s Lisbon office, but no one answered.  

A few minutes later, Elizabeth spoke to the receptionist again, who told her that the young woman from upstairs was calling the police, apparently in an attempt to scare us into leaving.  

Elizabeth asked for the LIvro de Reclamaçoes, the complaints book that every business must maintain and make available to customers. The receptionist would not give it to her. 

Here Come the Cops

At 11:40 am a police car pulled up and three officers, two men and a woman all in black military-style uniforms, got out.  Elizabeth met them as they came into the lobby.  She brought them to our corner and we stood in a circle about 10 feet from the receptionist desk.  Elizabeth proceeded to explain our situation. 

As with the earlier discussions, there was a lot of back and forth.  Initially, I could tell that the three officers were telling Elizabeth that she wasn’t in the right place to get the problem solved.  But she stood her ground.  I’m sure she kept repeating our complaint and answered each of their objections.  Every now and then I heard a reference to the senhor and one of them would point at me.  

While this was happening, the receptionist was leaning forward over her desk, trying to hear what was being said.  People entering or leaving the building would pause to stare at us and make quiet comments to the receptionist.  

After a few minutes, Elizabeth and the officers seemed to reach some sort of agreement.  The female officer asked for my passport and rental contract. She took them, walked to the other side of the lobby, and made a phone call.  She was on the phone for about 15 minutes.  At one point she came back and asked for the copy of the electric bill that our landlord had sent me.

While she was talking, two more officers arrived in another car.  One came in and the other waited outside.  After they conferred with the first two officers, they waited for a few minutes, then left.   Shortly after that, the female officer came back and handed me her phone.

She spoke to Elizabeth who translated:  A man on the phone is going to talk with you. When he asks if he can record the call, you should say ‘yes’.  

Olá, Senhor Diego

I wasn’t sure who I was going to talk to, but I spoke into the phone.  A man at the other end introduced himself as Diego. He asked if he could record our call.  I agreed.  Then he asked if I wanted to create a contract for electric service.  I was surprised by the question but hurriedly said yes – sim.  He told me he was going to read my contract details, first in Portuguese, then in English.  He said he would then ask me to confirm that the information was correct.  

At this point, I wanted the others to hear what was happening, so I asked the officer to put the call on speaker.  We stood in a small circle.  The volume wasn’t very loud, so I was bent over, listening carefully.  Elizabeth was on my right. One officer was to my left and the other two were in front of me. 

Diego read through the details of the contract for electric service:  name, address, my tax ID number, CPE, etc, etc.  After each one I agreed – Sim.   When he finished, he said he was sending me an email that would request some additional information. He asked me to verify that I received it.  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and juggled it in one hand while holding the officer’s phone and the other.  In my email, I saw something from a sender I didn’t recognize.  The police officer on my left looked at it, nodded, and indicated that was the one.  I told Diego I had received it.  He thanked me and we hung up. 

What Just Happened?

When I looked up at the officers and Elizabeth, I’m sure I must have appeared completely stunned.  Of all the possible outcomes I might have imagined when we started out that morning, this would never have been one of them.  

I was simply amazed. I didn’t know what company I was going to get electricity from or how much it was going to cost.  But a contract was apparently in the works. And Diego had mentioned a 20% discount. 

At this point with the officers, it was smiles all around.  I knew enough Portuguese to say “muito obrigado” – thank you very much – several times.  They nodded and smiled like this was just part of their normal day’s work.  We serve, protect, and negotiate utility contracts for gringos.  

As we drove away, Elizabeth told me she was just as surprised as I was. 

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If you want to know how things turned out, you will have to read the rest of Mike’s post.