I've spent the last several days trying to clean up the mess that those motherfuckers created for me.
Anger
On Sunday, I asked my tuk-tuk driver to take me to get my sim card replaced (I had to call him from a guesthouse since I didn't have a phone anymore, nor did I possess his phone number). There was $40 on that card, and I needed to get it transferred to a new account before the jackasses used it themselves.
The problem was that I was still too angry in the morning to function as anything other than a sociopath. I chewed out random strangers I passed on the streets, I ragged on my tuk tuk driver, and I threw a pen at the salesperson's head when she gave me the run around regarding my sim card. (Yes, really.) Then I stormed out.
I couldn't function like a normal human being, which was fine because no one else seemed to be fully functional either. I couldn't call anyone, do anything, contact the police, whatever. I drifted around town in a state of rage and confusion.
Finally, at the end of the day, I approached a cell phone kiosk and bought an old cell phone for $15, along with a new SIM card. At least that problem was solved.
Business
The next day was when the fun started. I was somewhat emotionally recovered by then--enough not to be on the brink of criminal insanity anyway.
- I went back to the phone company (I took a number and waited half an hour in penance for my outburst the prior day) and got a new SIM card, my old number, and all my credit back. The thieves hadn't thought to place any calls on it, thank God. And now they can't get anything for it, seeing that my phone was a beat up worthless piece of shit IN ARABIC.
- I went to the bank and ascertained that a) my money was OK and that b) the account is not accessible without ID.
- I went to the embassy and scheduled an appointment to report the robbery (useless though that may be)
- I went to the police. That's the interesting part of this tale:
The local police station is located right behind my house pretty much. They don't really speak English, so I had to go with a translator (not possessing the language skills to report a robbery). Like most things I've done in Cambodia, it was like an episode of absurdity and confusion based on Being John Malkovich. (Floor 7 1/2 and all.)
First of all, there were no police on duty. We finally found the local commander sitting in a darkened room on a yellow plastic interrogation chair, shirtless. No fan running, no A/C unit. I don't know why, either (but this sort of thing is a commonplace occurrence round these parts). He was way too young and hot to be a real policeman, let alone anyone's commander. I refrained from pointing this out at the time.
Instead, I filed my report--in this case, it involved tearing a used piece of computer paper in half and filling out the particulars on the unused part. I also included a graphic illustration of the computer in question, as if it would be remotely helpful. Not in English, anyway.
Then I promised him a few hundred dollars if the computer was returned to me (thus, effectively eliminating any chances I will have at entering the foreign service).
Then I paid five dollars as a gesture of good faith and left.
It's not much, and it will never work, but it's about the only thing I can do at this point. At least it stops me from raging and foaming and threatening physical violence at service personnel.
Anger
On Sunday, I asked my tuk-tuk driver to take me to get my sim card replaced (I had to call him from a guesthouse since I didn't have a phone anymore, nor did I possess his phone number). There was $40 on that card, and I needed to get it transferred to a new account before the jackasses used it themselves.
The problem was that I was still too angry in the morning to function as anything other than a sociopath. I chewed out random strangers I passed on the streets, I ragged on my tuk tuk driver, and I threw a pen at the salesperson's head when she gave me the run around regarding my sim card. (Yes, really.) Then I stormed out.
I couldn't function like a normal human being, which was fine because no one else seemed to be fully functional either. I couldn't call anyone, do anything, contact the police, whatever. I drifted around town in a state of rage and confusion.
Finally, at the end of the day, I approached a cell phone kiosk and bought an old cell phone for $15, along with a new SIM card. At least that problem was solved.
Business
The next day was when the fun started. I was somewhat emotionally recovered by then--enough not to be on the brink of criminal insanity anyway.
- I went back to the phone company (I took a number and waited half an hour in penance for my outburst the prior day) and got a new SIM card, my old number, and all my credit back. The thieves hadn't thought to place any calls on it, thank God. And now they can't get anything for it, seeing that my phone was a beat up worthless piece of shit IN ARABIC.
- I went to the bank and ascertained that a) my money was OK and that b) the account is not accessible without ID.
- I went to the embassy and scheduled an appointment to report the robbery (useless though that may be)
- I went to the police. That's the interesting part of this tale:
The local police station is located right behind my house pretty much. They don't really speak English, so I had to go with a translator (not possessing the language skills to report a robbery). Like most things I've done in Cambodia, it was like an episode of absurdity and confusion based on Being John Malkovich. (Floor 7 1/2 and all.)
First of all, there were no police on duty. We finally found the local commander sitting in a darkened room on a yellow plastic interrogation chair, shirtless. No fan running, no A/C unit. I don't know why, either (but this sort of thing is a commonplace occurrence round these parts). He was way too young and hot to be a real policeman, let alone anyone's commander. I refrained from pointing this out at the time.
Instead, I filed my report--in this case, it involved tearing a used piece of computer paper in half and filling out the particulars on the unused part. I also included a graphic illustration of the computer in question, as if it would be remotely helpful. Not in English, anyway.
Then I promised him a few hundred dollars if the computer was returned to me (thus, effectively eliminating any chances I will have at entering the foreign service).
Then I paid five dollars as a gesture of good faith and left.
It's not much, and it will never work, but it's about the only thing I can do at this point. At least it stops me from raging and foaming and threatening physical violence at service personnel.
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