After picking up some dinner items from the supermarket last night, I spotted a street vendor marketing a small collection of socks and cloth gloves. As I run almost every other night wearing a pair of miserably abused low-quality gloves, I decided to pick up another pair. The small, older street vendor was affective, as they always are, offering me little gloves for my little hands. Her wrinkled brow creased when I gave her a $2 mil note; the gloves cost $1 mil and she didn't have change in the inconspicuous fanny pack around her waist.
"Watch the things for me, ok?" She requested. "I'll go ask ___ for change." And she dashed off to consult with another street vendor some twenty meters away. Due to the layout of the sidewalk, and the fact that she'd set up right next to columns, I was blocked from her view as I stood over the few lovingly laid out socks and gloves.
I was rather impressed by her show of trust in me - generally people in Chile are very mistrusting of strangers: "if you get swindled by a stranger, shame on you for trusting them." Perhaps the act of entering into a market exchange, a business relationship, means more than a simple trade of goods here; it's certainly true that vendor loyalty is high in Chile. People do generally form a friendly relationship with the small vendors that they frequent.
The camraderie between the vendors (who are there illegally,) is also quite clear: they function rather like a large comunal bank.
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thank god they do, too. i have yet to figure out how no vendors in the developing world ever have change. i'm not quite sure who or what has squirreled away all the small bills. any thoughts? :)
ReplyDeleteWell, the change here is related to the general moneda shortage--all the small denominations are either on the buses, hoarded to take the buses, or smelted down for the metal. I can't speak for all developing world vendors though. :)
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