Orange is the New Blah

The battle to get a French phone number

This week I am going to tell you about trying to get a cell number in France, which has been my goal since May. I will also be including a lot of food porn to balance out the complaining vivid descriptions of this challenge.

Merengues the size of footballs. Yum.

When Roberto and I were in Montpellier in April I got a one month “Travel eSim Card” from Orange, the biggest mobile company in Europe. (An eSim card is something you upload to your iPhone). It worked great and our agent and others were able to call and text us. I put my French mobile number on several accounts that we opened. Only after we got home did I learn that if I used that eSim card for more than three weeks, I was supposed to register it, which I believe means sending Orange a copy of your passport.

I did not do that.

So when in late May I tried to re-up the eSim, Orange said NOPE. You failed to register.

Dammit.

Okay, I thought. I will get a new travel eSim card! But every time I tried to obtain a new one it would ask for a phone number, and when I used my American (and only) number it would say “this number is already associated with an account,” and it wouldn’t let me go any further. It should have said, “This number has been naughty, and you can’t play here anymore.”

So I tried opening a regular (non-travel) Orange account, but after filling out six pages of information it asked for my European phone number. So to obtain a French phone number I had to give them a French phone number. Typical.

Cakes at our local bakery.

As an American I am averse to calling companies. The wait time is usually interminable, and I find the customer service agents rarely have the power to do anything about my problem. Now add in a language barrier. But I could see no option other than to call Orange.

I discovered online that they have an English speaking service for France! The woman, Shenaz, explained kindly that I should stop trying to apply online since I was not a citizen of the EU. But she could create an account for me. Thank god.

Do you also need internet? she asked.

Yes, I do.

She was delighted. We would also get a French landline. This was not optional. Whatever.

Can you she send me the eSim card right away?

Non, Madame. You can not activate your account until you are back in France.

That would be three months.

I want you to think of the number of websites right now that won’t let you sign in until they have texted you a code. Now imagine that you have no phone for them to text. And the French are obsessed with codes. When I received my debit card for my bank account I received an ID number, a code to use when I call them, a code to use at an ATM machine, a code to login online, and a code for online purchases. (Is this some remnant of WW II—like maybe the French resistance needed three rounds of codes to prove a person’s identity? I don’t know what it’s about, but it’s making me INSANE.)

Hamburger and frites.

The band-aid was to give them the cell number of our agent, Agnès, who has gotten us out of many a mess at this point. But let me tell you how this worked. I would try to sign into an account — let’s say the electric bill. And the site would say we just sent you a code you have to enter. You have five minutes.

I would text Agnès from the US. Maybe she was available. Maybe she wasn't. When she was available, for whatever reason, the code might take about 15 minutes to reach her. By the time she sent it to me, it was no longer viable. I kinda wanted to hurt someone?

Cheese and more cheese.

I ended up having to call several of the companies to explain our predicament. The solution, as it often is in France, was to handwrite a letter. The French have all these levels of security, but when I can’t get something figured out (which means I’ve probably spent 20 hours screaming and/or crying hunched over my computer) I call whichever company, and someone will tell me to hand write a letter explaining the problem. And then it’s all sorted. As of right now, we’ve managed (I think) to get all of the utilities on autopay

Finally, we were two weeks away from traveling back to Montpellier, which is when the woman from Orange told me I should call back. I called and said, “We are ready for our modem and router and SIM cards, please.”

Shenaz was there and ready to help. She got the modem and router in the mail. She said the SIM cards were in the mail, too (and when we received them they would have instructions for the eSim option.) The internet equipment was here when we arrived and worked perfectly. I ran and bought a phone with an answering machine (how quaint!) and we soon had a landline. We waited excitedly for our SIM cards.

And waited. And waited.

Finally, I went to a brick and mortar Orange store. I told them I was waiting for our SIM cards. The nice man looked up my account and informed me that I was missing several documents from my account: proof of residency, a copy of my passport, and, because we are foreigners, a deposit in the form of a check in the amount of €265.

Wait. Wha? We are already paying for the internet service through our bank account. Can’t you just take it out of there?

Non, Madame. It must be a check and you must mail it to Lille.

Of course it has to be a check. Because we don’t have any $@!&#! French checks.

A perfect latte

I go online and order a check book. It will take around five business days.

We wait. And wait.

After eight days I check with the bank. The checks have gone to Texas.

Putain.

I go to the brick and mortar HSBC bank. I tell them the problem to the best of my ability (the man speaks no English). He explains that first I have to officially change the address of the account. For this I must handwrite a letter (of course) which my husband and I must both sign. I must also provide proof of address and a copy of my passport. I bring all of this back to the bank the next morning, and the man explains I was also supposed to call my bank representative to get his permission to change my address. What?

I go home and call him. He is not available, but the man who answers (and speaks English) offers to help me. He says, You can do that online! It’s much faster. Those people work at a branch that is different than yours and they don’t know what they’re talking about.

He walks me through it and I manage to change our address in two minutes. Le sigh. I wait 24 hours for the change to be official and then order a new checkbook.

I woke up to find Roberto had brought me pain au chocolate and an almond croissant for breakfast.

Then I call Orange. Unfortunately, I don’t get the fabulous Shenaz. I tell the new guy my story of woe—how without a cell number we can’t function. We can’t sign into our online accounts, but worse, we can’t file our insurance claim for the water damage in our apartment. I really lay it on thick. The man puts me on hold to find out my options. I’m sure he’s about to let me do the deposit by credit card when he returns and says Non, madame. Check only.

Roberto asks if someone else can write the check. The man disappears again and after a while, he returns and says, finally, Oui, Madame.

The next morning I meet up with Agnès who writes Orange a check for the €265, and I give her the money and a massive hug. I run to La Poste and send the deposit check to Lille. That was Thursday, September 21st.

For the record, we arrived on September 7th. Today is Monday, September 25, and we are still waiting for our SIM cards/French phone numbers.

Tarts!

The takeaway lessons are:

1. Every time you think it’s in the mail, it is not.

2. Don’t expect anyone to contact you or tell you why it’s not.

3. You have to have a French friend to make anything actually happen.

4. French pastries make up for everything

Jusqù’a la prochain fois (until next time),

Carolyn & Roberto