Paying bills here is not as awesome as you would think. You can pay online but it is not the normal practice and by the time our first bill came we didn't have time to set up the online account (no it doesn't just take 2 minutes).
That meant we needed to pay our cable and internet bill at the tabbachio. What is a tabbachio you might ask? It is exactly what it sounds like. A tobacco store, that usually also sells some drinks, snacks and maybe coffee. They have these on every corner. They also have little machines where you can go in and pay your bills, parking passes and a few other administrative things that you might need. I don't know why but this seems crazy to me, I really can't seem to get over it. Also, you don't get bills on a regular monthly basis. You might get an electricity bill for a 3 month or 2 month period. Basically you get a bill for however long it has been since the guy came out and checked your meter.
We pay some of our bills online now, but still have a pay a few at the tabbaccio.
The first time we had to do it was one day when we realized our internet had been cut off. Bear in mind that we weren't being neglectful in our bills, we just hadn't actually received anything. At this point Joseph was at work and was pretty busy so the burden fell to me. He told me what he thought I should say and ask for. Turns out he had been given the wrong information and so was then giving me the wrong information. I went to two shops, two different newspaper stands and the post office. All places where you are supposedly supposed to be able to pay your bills. Each person nicely told me no in broken English and tried to point me in the direction of someone who could. But then I got to the post office. At this point Jasper was cranky and hungry, so I pulled my number and sat down to nurse him in the waiting room. Besides getting up for the wrong number and then missing my number call (again nothing is as straight forward as you would think it would be) I got reamed out by the post office lady. She kept giving me directions that I didn't understand in Italian, but what I did understand was her talking bad about me to the other clerks for only speaking English. It was mortifying. It had been several hours since the start of the supposedly easy task, I was hungry and grouchy and now almost to the point of tears. Finally I just left because I realized I wasn't going to be able to do it there either.
At this point I called Joseph crying and told him to take care of it.
Thankfully he did, and still does.
That is an experience I would not like to repeat. Some days being an expat is not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.
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