The Congress in Peru recently approved a law saying that the internet companies have to provide at least 70% of the internet speed that they are selling. This law was designed to improve what the companies provide, up from 40%. My question all along has been, if I am paying 100%, why are they allowed to give me 40%? Thankfully, now it is 70%, but I am still paying 100%.
Can someone explain to me why they don’t just say, “We can provide this level of service and will charge you this amount”? It doesn’t change the internet speed; it just makes the transaction clear. Then, when they give me higher speeds, I will be thrilled!
What if other companies did that? Can you imagine a dairy company selling you a gallon of milk and promising you that there will be at least three quarts?
Anyway, I wrote to La República and offered this commentary… that was not published.
Si Movistar te puede cobrar 100% y darte 70% (La República, 20 de mayo 2021), imagínate…
Después de confirmar la elevación de 40% a 70% la velocidad mínima de los servicios de internet por el Pleno del Congreso de la República, el vocero de Leches Gloria comentó, “Estamos muy de acuerdo. De ahora en adelante vamos a rellenar nuestras cajas de un litro de leche con un mínimo de 700 ml.” El coordinador del mercado de Santa Anita también apoyó la decisión del Congreso asegurando que pueden re-calibrar las balanzas para que cada casera reciba un mínimo de 700 gramos en cada kilo de fruta o verdura. Toyota, por su parte, anunció que están considerando la posibilidad de poner 3 llantas en vez de 4 en cada auto vendido. Todavía tenían que conversarlo porque 3 llantas sería 75% y eso excede el 70% aprobado por el Congreso.
I thought it was funny. I also think that Peru has other priorities right now with the pandemic and the election.
Following my mother’s death
We fought about the things.
We argued over furniture and
Heirloom diamond rings.
The Waterford from Ireland,
And oil-on-canvas art,
Madam Alexander Dolls,
Keepsakes of the heart.
Two lifetimes worth of Kodak prints,
The sweaters knit by hand,
Great grandma’s China gravy boat,
Old stories of the land.
“My shelves are full!”
“My car’s too small!”
“Antique things’ll break!”
“I’ve got no room
On floor or wall
So nothing will I take!”
That’s the way we argued,
Voices almost at a wail.
So then and there we opted
For a discount two-day sale.
The ratty kitchen cupboard door
stood open every morning.
And everyday I told my kid,
“This is your final warning!
“You have to, must and always will
keep spices from the light
within the safety of the doors,
the cupboard closed up tight!”
“Sorry pop, it wasn’t me,”
the youngest one would say.
“I’d never harm the cinnamon.”
One day he moved away.
That open kitchen cupboard door
kept pestering my life.
Mistake! for it was not my child:
Was my forgetful wife.
“Oh honey, dear, please help me out
and do me a big favor:
Please close the cupboard door at night
so spices we can savor.”
“Don’t ‘honey me’ with open doors;
forgetful I am not.
I, too, protect the tarragon
and rind of apricot.”
After many years of open doors
she passed while sound asleep.
I cried for days, din’t eat a bite,
spent nights a‘counting sheep.
Then hunger knocked one afternoon,
I craved a spicy stew.
Aghast! the cupboard doors thrown wide!
I din’t know what to do!
The cupboard doors I had removed,
And now I clearly see:
T’was not my son nor lovely wife,
The guilty one was me
Mr. B walked a kindergarden student to his room where I was working as the guest teacher for the day. The 6 year old was surprised to see me and not his usual teacher. Mr. B asked the student, “Do you know Mr. Fleming?”
“Yes, I know him.”
“Are you ready to have a good day with him, learn a lot and follow the instructions he gives?”
“Well, I’m not sure. He’s old. And I don’t know him.”