Secreto, or a wandering woman finally meets Spanish caller ID
I bought a new phone the other day. A phone for the house.
Tired of answering telesales calls during the work day, and equally tired of hearing friends and family from the States complain I never pick up the land line (I don't) despite it being far cheaper for them to call that line, I picked up a phone with caller ID.
All week I've been taking my office chair for high speed spins straight back to the phone to make the ever important decision: to answer or not to answer
A minute ago, my new purchase rang anew. Away to the phone I flew like a flash! (This spinning in the desk chair is a lot of fun, actually.) I squinted at the text screen to see who it was.
My phone said it couldn't tell me.
Seriously, this may be standard for caller ID in Spain but it's a first for me. The phone's ID screen typed out: SECRETO.
Oooh. Secret.
I just received a SECRET call. Intriguing.
It was all I could do not to answer it. I mean, come on. SECRETO. Like you could resist that?
Now if one of you doesn't assure me SECRETO is Telefónica's way of translating a sterile English "UNLISTED", I'm going to spend the rest of my days regretting I didn't pick up that phone.
And hear the secreto.
Tired of answering telesales calls during the work day, and equally tired of hearing friends and family from the States complain I never pick up the land line (I don't) despite it being far cheaper for them to call that line, I picked up a phone with caller ID.
All week I've been taking my office chair for high speed spins straight back to the phone to make the ever important decision: to answer or not to answer
A minute ago, my new purchase rang anew. Away to the phone I flew like a flash! (This spinning in the desk chair is a lot of fun, actually.) I squinted at the text screen to see who it was.
My phone said it couldn't tell me.
Seriously, this may be standard for caller ID in Spain but it's a first for me. The phone's ID screen typed out: SECRETO.
Oooh. Secret.
I just received a SECRET call. Intriguing.
It was all I could do not to answer it. I mean, come on. SECRETO. Like you could resist that?
Now if one of you doesn't assure me SECRETO is Telefónica's way of translating a sterile English "UNLISTED", I'm going to spend the rest of my days regretting I didn't pick up that phone.
And hear the secreto.
Labels: on living in Spain
3 Comments:
Every time I have answered the phone with a caller ID of SECRETO, it is some sort of telemarketer. Every time. I say don't answer it; instead allow your imagination to make it something better than the reality!
~ CC
Certain Caesura
By Paige, at 8:17 PM
A HA! That was my suspicion. If I were a telemarketer I'd want to dial in as "secreto" just to tempt curious fools like me to pick up the phone.
Thanks for the comment, CC!
By Erin, at 9:42 PM
WEll I don't know about Spain (or the US for that matter) but in the Netherlands and the Netherlands Antilles it is a standard option on cell phones not to display your number on caller ID.
I used to use it when I first got a cell phone (I was forced to, so don't blame me for giving in :-)) and had to use it for work.
C
By Anonymous, at 9:27 PM
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