a girl in the world

finding beauty, pleasure and grace on the road less traveled

Reggaeton

I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a gym membership lately and last night, I finally decided YES.  I’m not a gym person.  I can’t do treadmills and weights and elliptical machines all by myself.  The last time I did well at a gym was when I had a trainer.

All of this working from home and taking long walks by the park has been great but my energy levels have been low low low lately. So, I’ve decided to gym it.

Let me just say that Reggaeton dance classes are great.  But you know what I realized?  Reggaeton is actually only *really* great when you’re drunk in some bar in the middle of Lisbon with 4 of your closest girl friends.  Reggaeton at 9 PM on a Monday night while completely sober is SO NOT the same experience. At all.

I think I’ll stick to plain ol’ vanilla aerobics on weeknights.

Lessons in customer service

Argentina is known for its beautiful people and delicious steaks.  Thailand is known for it’s pristine beaches and top-notch customer service.  Thailand and steaks don’t fit.  And neither do Argentina and top-notch customer service.  That’s because there is none.

Ok, I’m joking.  Of course there’s customer service in Argentina.  Restauranteurs, shop owners, security guards, teachers and cabbies – we’ve met some of the sweetest.  But in general, it’s hard to find quality, feel-good, they’ve-gone-above-and-beyond customer service here.

Whether it’s the help centre for a mobile, internet or telephone company, people just don’t seem to care.  You call, someone answers and if the question is standard, you get a standard, canned-response reply.  But if the question you have requires an answer that isn’t in the books, don’t expect to problem-solve through it together.  Most of the time, the person on the other side of the line will just hang up.

Yes.  Hang up.  It is crazy.

We’ve met various entrepreneurs from the expat community here and time and time again, they say that the biggest opportunities locally lie in improving the customer experience.  It’s just bad.

You call a manufacturer about possibly sourcing goods from his shop and you don’t hear back for weeks (if at all).  It boggles my mind that companies don’t value the fact that I’m an interested, willing customer, ready to give my money for a good or service they provide.  Why are they not tripping over themselves to serve me and serve me well?  The spoilt North American consumer in me just can’t understand it.  It’s backward economics.

But a closer look reveals something different.  It’s economics, yes, but not necessarily backwards.

Because salaries here are so low (minimum wage is 1800 pesos a month, which translates to about $450 USD) and opportunities for advancement are virtually non-existent, it’s hard to command above-and-beyond performance in low to mid-wage jobs.  We’ve heard of cases where telecentre workers are told that they should average 90 seconds per call.  There are no customer satisfaction metrics, no recorded calls, no CRM systems tracking past queries.  Just you and the stopwatch.

But of course, what else would you expect from a place where inflation runs rampant, where economic stability changes with the seasons, where cost cutting and cash are king.

Manufacturers don’t hold inventory, which means they aren’t tripping over themselves to sell it.  They’ll make it on demand, but only if fully paid.  This means it’s more profitable to maintain current relationships than go after leads that may yield zero or low volume business.

There is no concept of credit here. Inflation fluctuates so frequently that some restaurants don’t print prices on their menus – you have to ask.

Here, the economic stability that we take for granted in places like North America and Europe does not exist.  This is why come pay day, people line up at Cambio shops to change pesos to dollars.  Better to keep savings in cold, hard Benjamins than to risk investing pesos in banks.

And so, in a place where financial stability for the average person is dependent more on the political and economic policies in place at any given time than on personal effort, priorities shift.  Instead of focusing on career advancement, promotions and innovation in the workplace, people focus on more tangible, controllable benefits: family, friends and leisure time.  People don’t live to work.  They live to live.

They live to live.  And it is obvious.  On Sundays, businesses are closed, families crowd the parks, coffee shops are packed, subways and buses are empty.  Meals are 3-hour long marathons of storytelling, laughter and shared time.  Friends see each other weekly, not monthly.  People get to know their neighbours.

I won’t take back my opinion that customer service here is bad.  It can definitely be improved.  But there is so much more to it than just that.  There are larger forces at work here – political, economic, historical – that help explain the workings of a place.

For me, it’s all been a long lesson on perspective.  Give your best, in everything, regardless of what reward systems are in place.  Don’t take for granted functioning, (mostly) efficient governments. Treasure the softer, lovelier, immeasurable goodness of family, friends and leisure time in your life.

Live to live.

A "Crisis of Coins"

This place is the Wild Wild West.  Someone blatantly jumps in front of you in the grocery store queue.  A fist fight on the sidewalk.  Traffic jams at every major and non-major intersection between here and Texas.  Dishonest cabbies, apathetic customer service reps, irresponsible dog owners who refuse to pick up after their pets.  This is Buenos Aires.  It is beauty, love and madness.

Whenever we get together with Porteños, conversations inevitably wander towards politics, the state of the economy and the backwards workings of a once mighty place.  Similar to other young democracies in Asia and other parts of the developing world, Argentina finds itself in the throes of well-meaning leaders who just can’t help being a little more selfish than the next guy.  And being with an Argentinian means that I’m witness to the average Argie’s gripes and frustrations every single day.  Mostly, people find a way to laugh it off.  No sense in worrying about something that you can’t change (ha, the irony of democracy).

Inefficient government and government policies, combined with a resourceful pool of determined citizens yield a system and way of life just a little different from the western world.  Cash-only rental, real estate sales and restaurant transactions.   Bribery in business.  Dishonest and corrupt law enforcement officials.  A virtually zero credit economic system (homes, cars, and rents are all paid in cold hard USD cash).  And, fake money.

Now, friends who’ve visited Argentina in the past have groaned about being duped with fake money by taxi drivers.  Three months of living on and off in the country last year and not once did I come across fake bills.  But last week, as we hurried out of a cab to get to dinner, the cabbie slipped us a 50 peso fake and it was only after a few days that we’d realized we were scammed.  And though 50 pesos only translates to about 12 USD, I don’t like the feeling of being taken advantage of.  I was royally annoyed.

But you know what’s amazing?  Whereas I was annoyed about the situation, the Boy, as always, was cool, calm and collected.  He laughed it off and said that we’d just put the fake back into the system.  Simple.

Right. Of course.  Just put it right back into the system.  Why didn’t I think of that?

And the more time I spend here, the more amazed I am to see how nonchalantly the locals have found a way to cope with such backwardness.  The legal and illegal things have all found a way to weave themselves into the normal course of daily life here.

Last night during dinner, we talked about the “crisis of coins”.  The subway and bus systems here are relatively efficient ways of getting around, albeit not very efficiently managed.  Subway passes only work for subways and most buses only take cash (1 peso, to be exact).  This means that in a city of 9 million people, the majority of the population is ducking underground or hopping on a colectivo every single day, at least twice a day.  Imagine the demand for coins.  One peso coins, to be exact.  And imagine the opportunities if you’re the owner of a corner-street kiosk, selling small change items like candy, cigarettes and chewing gum.  There are crowds of people with two peso, five peso and 10 peso bills aching for change.  Perhaps that little pack of gum over there, instead of pricing it at 1 peso flat, you can price it at 1.25 or 1.50.  Wouldn’t you much rather change a 5 peso bill and earn a few cents more on the transaction?

Supposedly, the demand for coins once created a black market system where people would ask to change a 10 peso bill and be forced to accept 9 pesos in return, the kiosk owner pocketing 1 peso in ‘commission’ for the service.  Clever, no? =)

Coming from clean, boring Canada, the Wild Wild West ways of doing things here fascinate me.  The economic systems that evolve in places where governments are still struggling to rightfully fulfill their duties to the people are incredibly interesting.  It feels like every day yields a new surprise, a different perspective in ways of doing things.

This is what deep travel is all about: the process of peeking around the folds and understanding the quiet ways people cope with their laws and limitations, with all things good and bad about daily life in a big city.  This is a whole new education.

Hi, I'm Denise. I'm a writer, artist and photographer. This is where I share what I'm seeing, learning and making.
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