Sunday, 11 December 2011

Doing business in SA

‘South America: a great place to visit, just don’t do business with its inhabitants.’ That’s the common refrain you are likely to hear from Western-world expats settled in Latin America. 

Considering the genuine friendliness of the majority of its people coupled with the unforgettable delights of the land mass itself, such a statement may come as a surprise for those just passing through the Spanish-speaking countries here. But putting emotional ties aside and taking a deeper, colder look, perhaps we shouldn’t be too taken aback. 

Spending a little more time here than the average visitor and engaging in daily activities outside of the main tourist drag, you begin to see just why the majority of countries in South America have so far failed to realise their potential in an economic sense. 

Now, before you say this might be a bit rich coming from an Irishman given the perilous state of our own economy at present, it must be said that the resources — natural and otherwise — available to most of the Spanish-speaking nations here more than dwarf those at Ireland’s disposal. 

Doing business in SA: A colourful, local dance watched by an enthusiastic crowd on a sunny day in central Quito, Ecuador
South America: A colourful place but tread carefully.
Part of the problem is the Spanish legacy. When you’re a descendant — as most of the power brokers in Latin America are — of a colonising race that put short-term gain over long-term sustainability, you’re coming from a shaky foundation. 

While the Spanish were not famed for leaving much behind in the lands they fleeced, one thing they did instil in South America is a greed mentality that blinkers foresight. Take what you can now, deal with the consequences later. Trouble is, because you plundered all you could from the get-go, you have nothing left to deal with those future problems.

Here’s a contemporary example of this sort of thinking in action. On a night out in Bogotá’s ‘hip’ Chapinero district with three fellow Europeans — two Dutch guys and a German — we wandered into one of the many bars/clubs in the area, looking for a few beers. Nothing out of the ordinary there, eh? 

Now, considering the night was young, it was beers we wanted at this stage — nothing stronger, just yet. And given that almost everybody in the place was doing just that — drinking beers — we didn’t expect any problems. 

How silly of us. With no other explanation other than the fact that we were different, i.e. not South American, never mind Colombian, we were told that the only alcohol we could purchase was bottles of spirits — the cheapest of those being rum at $50,000 Colombian pesos (roughly €20). 

While between four lads that price, relatively speaking, isn’t that much, the fact that practically all the other clientèle in the establishment were drinking beer, why discriminate against us? I mean, the bar staff were dishing out beer right in front of our eyes — it’s not like the place had run out of it or anything. 

You see this is where this skewed, suicidal business sense comes into play. The staff saw four 'rich' Westerners and thought ‘let's get what we can from them straight away’. 

Now, maybe some other extranjeros — foreigners if you will — would have caved in and bought the costlier spirits, but we are quite a principled bunch. 

So instead of them serving us four beers at $4,000 Colombian pesos (COP) a pop, with the likelihood that we would have had at least another four and, heck knows, considering the group of us in it, we would have ended up getting the rum too after the beers, the staff tried to pin us for the $50,000 COP straight up. 

Alas, for them, they got nothing. A complete lack of vision — their colonising forefathers would have been proud. By the way, this episode was replicated in other venues that night. At least Bogotá’s Institute of Harebrained Business Solutions is thriving.

Alongside the above practice is the apparent incapability of many Latinos to say they don’t know something. 

In all fairness, there is nothing sinister at work here. It’s just that they seem so anxious to help that they feel compelled to say something other than ‘I don’t know’ — and what they say, more often than not, ends up leading you astray. 

As an English friend mused, if you need to ask South Americans for directions, it’s best to ask at least four people and from that you might just be able to piece together the correct location; if you’re lucky.

Coupled with this inability to say ‘I don’t know’, is the rather more sinister trait of never admitting being wrong. Even with video evidence showing culpability, you’ll rarely hear a South American admitting he/she was at fault. A Bart Simpson style ‘I didn’t do it’ — except without the follow-up hit record and TV appearances (apologies non-Simpsons fans — this YouTube video should help put you in the picture). 

Considering their questionable business tactics, it should not surprise us too much that many here feel the best way to get out of a hole is to keep digging, at speed.

Hence, you ask, why would anyone want to relocate here on a long-term basis, with the idea of doing business?  

Well, we are generalising here — there are, thankfully, some notable exceptions to the above. On the whole, however, where money-making opportunities arise are in areas where the locals don’t have a decent grasp — many of these happen to be in the tourism sector – along with areas where outside influence is practically unavoidable, such as teaching English. 

So there are openings in South America for outsiders. It might be best, though, just not to tell the locals.

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