We bought a typewriter in New York, one time, for two reasons: We could get the liberal discount, allowed the government if we bought direct from the maker, and we could evade a 25% duty if we received it through our custom house and not through another. Also there was a line of steamers from New York to our wharf.
Some five weeks after placing the order, we were notified by an express company in Havana that it had accepted for our account a typewriter, and that when the duty, plus accrued express and forwarding charges, amounting to $45.O3, were paid, it would be dispatched in our direction.
We were out $40.03 because some fool shipping clerk had insisted on trying to do our heavy thinking. We had given him the name of the steamer by which the machine was to be shipped, but he had discovered, in some way, that steamships will not make a bill for less than a metric ton. That, he doubtless learned, would cost us $5.00. The package only weighed about 30 lbs., so he started it off by express. His brain did not carry far enough for him to learn that only one American express company crossed the Florida Strait and naturally chance took it to another company. Two changes were made in express companies before the box reached the coast and the package sauntered about in our beautiful Southland for more than a month before it landed in Havana.
Had any Spanish merchant been subjected to the invariable annoyance which fell to our lot when we endeavored to patronize American houses, he would have given up in despair and remembered the adage of the burnt child, forever.
And, unfortunately, the carelessness of American shippers often costs the foreign merchants good, hard dollars. Tariffs in Latin-American republics are fearfully and wonderfully made, and there is nothing that a pin-headed government employe enjoys more than inflicting a fine for a slip in complying with a little red tape.
Here is a case in point. A large house in Mexico City bought a carload of chairs over here, and with the order sent the shipping forms prescribed by the Mexican government. A very explicit letter was sent also, saying that consular invoices would be provided by their custom house broker in Laredo, who would receive the goods at the border, but that the shipping forms must be filled out, each package numbered with a serial number on the forms. Full description involved, of course, a statement as to the kind of wood used, so that the duty might be easily adjusted.
The goods, however, were simply consigned as so many bundles of chairs, weight so much. The shipping lists were ignored. The innocent receiver of those goods was fined both because they had not been properly described and because the weight was grossly understated. It cost the Mexican house $800 and when the American was asked to settle the charges caused by carelessness, or pig-headedness, he merely answered that he was not going to settle any bills with the Mexican government.
The Mexican firm settled—it had to—and posted every importer in the republic in the matter, so that not only will that American house not sell any more chairs in Mexico, but Americans generally have been given another black eye.
There is a good reason for careful custom regulations, and the exporter should know that they are partly for his protection. For instance, they usually require that a certain number, generally ten per cent, of all packages shall be opened and compared with the shipping list. If these packages, chosen at random, are correct, the consignment is delivered. But if any variation is found, fraud is assumed, and every package is thoroughly examined, usually with more or less damage.
It is customary for English and German firms, in the packing of small articles, to use different colored pasteboard boxes, which are often decorated with pictures indicating the contents. For instance, in a large packing case containing a stock of gentlemen's furnishings, all collars will be in boxes of one color, socks in another, cravats in another, etc. The large case is lined with tin, by the way, and after packing, the tin joints are soldered around the top. Here is the English system: First, the small boxes, individualized as much as possible; then heavy wrapping paper, then a tin lining inside of an outer wooden casing, the latter being well made and reinforced with iron straps. Last of all, directions and addresses are stenciled in large, clear block letters. The Germans often use oiled paper between the tin and the inner packages, so that even if the tin is punctured, the oiled paper will resist the sea air, which invariably injures delicate fabrics.