The real Argentine: Notes and Impressions of a Year in the Argentine and Uruguay

by J. A. Hammerton

An Argentine “Gaucho” in his Hours of Ease

The net result of all this is a very pronounced feeling of briskness in almost every branch of commerce. The country is steadily progressing in its agricultural development, the Government is steadily borrowing to advance public works, and, except for the temporary set-back in 1913, it may be said that credit all round has continued extremely good for many years. Consequently, men of business do not haggle and discuss the fractional profits with which manufacturers and merchants have now-a-days to be content in the older countries of the world, and especially when there is a large amount of borrowed capital floating throughout a country, there is sure to exist something of that spendthrift feeling which we always associate with the individual borrower. This tends to make commercial conditions extremely “easy.” Given that A possesses the article which B wants, or thinks he wants, or which perhaps A has told him he ought to have, there is every likelihood that B will purchase the same at A’s price, or, if he insists on a reduction, that will probably be the result of a personal knowledge of A, who is most likely in the habit of placing a specially high profit on any article he offers to B, intending to rebate the excess of profit. This used to be the sole method of doing business throughout the Latin-American market, and here and there lingering traces of the Moorish system of asking double or treble what one expects to receive for an article, may be detected.

Until quite recently, much of the shopping in Buenos Ayres was conducted on this ancient Oriental system of beating down the seller. No Argentine lady would ever have dreamed of paying what the shopkeeper asked her, and, equally, no shopkeeper would ever have dreamed of asking the customer what he expected eventually to accept; but the Argentines, more alert than most Latin-Americans, and more anxious to put themselves in line with Anglo-Saxon business methods, have largely abandoned this obsolete farce, and now in most business houses and in most of the shops, precio fijo is the order of the day. The thanks of the shopkeeping community are particularly due to the pioneer house of Messrs. Gath & Chaves, the largest department stores in the Southern continent, who virtually broke down the old system when they opened their great establishments some years ago and announced that all goods would be sold at fixed prices. At first they had to turn away innumerable customers, who simply refused to buy unless the prices were reduced, but eventually the battle was won for honest trading, and the system has been largely adopted throughout the country. It is true that small dealers of divers sorts still endeavour to maintain the ancient bluff. One day, for instance, in the window of a bric-à-brac seller, I was attracted by a walking-stick of a peculiar Brazilian wood. I entered, and asked him how much he wanted for it. He named a price, the equivalent of about $18.

“I’ll give you twelve pesos ($5),” I said.

“Muy bien”—(very well), said the dealer, wearily, as he handed me the article and accepted the money; and there seemed to be no feeling of shame on the part of the seller at endeavouring to secure so high a price. Assuredly, what I paid him was all the article was worth, and probably a little more than its real value, but, assuming that I wanted the stick, he made a shot at a price which he fancied I might pay.

This irresponsibility is characteristic of much of the business dealings not only in Buenos Ayres, but in all the South American centres where it has been my lot to make purchases. There is an extraordinary ignorance of intrinsic values. The restricting of imports, the delays of the Customs authorities (who will often hold up a valuable shipment from three to six weeks after its arrival), the lack of competition, all tend to the imposition of the most absurd prices. Just imagine asking three printers in New York to estimate for a certain piece of work, and receiving from A a quotation for $1000, from B one for $457, and from C another of $1825. Such disparities are absolutely unthinkable in any country where labour has been properly organised, where prices of materials have been more or less standardised, and where the only difference must come from the ability of one firm to save a little more than its competitors in its working methods. Not once, but on scores of occasions, I experienced discrepancies in estimates of which the above illustration is typical. Hence the man of business who merely employs one printer, without putting others in competition, may be losing heavily, as it is folly to place any sort of order without securing two or three checking estimates. Moreover,—and here the foolishness of the methods adopted becomes apparent,—I have on more than one occasion invited the printer whose estimate was highest by upwards of $500, but whose work seemed to me the best, to accept the order at the estimate of the lowest printer, and he has willingly done so! I also recall another printer who, on my protesting against an overcharge on an account for $750, made a reduction of $425, in order that I should not bar him from future work! This slight excess occurred on some work done without estimate. The same printer informed me that the account in question was based on the standard rate, which for many years his house had been charging one of the principal banks for the printing of their stationery. The reader will scarcely wonder, therefore, that we used to remark, in discussing these discrepancies in estimates, that it was evidently no more than a toss-up whether you were to be asked to pay $50 or $450, and in view of this it will be seen how essential is some expert knowledge of the work in hand to any person who ventures to engage in business in South America.

At the same time, the spacious feeling which comes from this disregard of small profits has its effect on the individual man of business, and the quick results which follow the friendly attitude of the public to all sorts of new offers is highly inspiriting. I can therefore perfectly understand the enthusiasm of an Englishman who, perhaps only moderately successful, or making insufficient progress at home, has emigrated to Buenos Ayres, and is enjoying the delights of handling a rapidly growing and remunerative business, feeling that here indeed is the only land worth living in. For after all, to most business men their business is their life, and as there is so little to interest any man in Buenos Ayres outside of his office, conditions are mutually reactive, the inspiration of the business serving to increase one’s interest in one’s work, and the increased interest tending to increased business. In this way the business man becomes doubly a worker, and knows not even the Saturday afternoon holiday, an English institution that is very slowly, if at all, creeping into even the English offices in Buenos Ayres.

Most business men have admitted to me that, while they like the place, it is only a place for working and sleeping in, and I suspect the majority of cherishing in their heart of hearts the hope of returning to their native land some day for good. I have known men who have lived there over thirty years, and who have lost every relative and friend they ever possessed at home, go back after all and close their account with Buenos Ayres. On the other hand, not a few I have met who, having retired to England, to France, or to Germany, as the case may have been, have eventually returned to settle and die in Buenos Ayres. These are the people who say there is “a something” that draws them back. They would even have you believe there is about South America that strange, intangible glamour of the East, which brings most who have lived in the Orient under its spell. This I will not believe; there is no glamour, there is no romantic beauty, there is no sensuous delight in the atmosphere of all South America. What happens is a far other thing. Men become so devoted to their business, under the conditions I have outlined, so engrossed in the mere circumstance of their prosperous affairs, that, neglecting all other interests in life, they have nothing left to them but their business, and when they return to their native lands, they have not brought that with them, and where their business is their heart is also. Glamour, no, but business, yes,—as one would say in the phraseology of the country.