El vecino de una de mis tías, un señor que apenas sacó la primaria, tenía un negocio simple, pero que le generaba altos dividendos: comprar objetos de uso cotidiano para revender en mercados foráneos.
César (nombre ficticio para proteger la identidad real) un día agarró su camioneta vieja, y se dispuso a llevar artículos de aseo e higiene, además de lentes de aumento genéricos para las poblaciones alejadas de la ciudad. Viviendo en la zona urbana del llano, encontrar caseríos en los que algunos servicios llegan poco o no llegan, no resultaba complicado.
Para su sorpresa, lo recibieron como quien ve a Dios llegar, y en menos de dos horas no solo había vendido todo, sino que volvió con encargos para el siguiente fin de semana.
Era la época de escasez de repuestos en Venezuela, y siendo su oficio el de mecánico, resultaba complicado llevar el sustento a casa, por lo que siguiendo el consejo de uno de sus clientes habituales en el taller, agarró parte de sus ahorros e hizo esa primera inversión con resultados satisfactorios.
Pasados los meses, empezó a agregar mobiliario (escaparates, camas, cunas, mesas) además de ropa casual. Era como un centro comercial sobre ruedas, además de poder involucrar a su hijo, quien tenía también una camioneta.
Implementó la modalidad del pago semanal para aquellos objetos de mayor valor, y solo con algunos clientes asiduos. Al cabo de unos años, luego de un altercado con la guardia nacional, quienes le decomisaron su mercancía, decidió abandonar el negocio y volver a la mecánica.
César, conociendo ya la realidad de esas carreteras aisladas, pudo haber previsto que observaban sus rutinas, fueran agentes policiales, o rateros de los que suelen ver oportunidades para delinquir.
Así que podía haber invertido en un camión cerrado, para que nadie pudiera ver su mercancía, o alquilar un espacio para hacerse de un local que pudiera abastecer durante la semana y solo abrir los fines de semana.
Quizás quedarse solo con la venta de mercancía pequeña, que no fuera vistosa para otros, o hacer esas entregas una vez por mes y fuera de horarios de oficina, en los cuales pudiera encontrarse con funcionarios que pusieran trabas (aunque obviamente esto no debería suceder)
Sin embargo, la lección aún no había sido aprendida para él, quien siguió haciendo las entregas con la camioneta del hijo, cayendo en la desgracia de haber sido robados en la vía, perdiendo tanto la mercancía como el vehículo, cerrando el ciclo de ventas al detal en los pueblos del interior.
La enseñanza llegó tarde para César, quien aprendió de mala manera que ante las mismas acciones, obtiene mismos resultados. En su caso, primero con guardias corruptos, luego con delincuentes, que terminaron con su emprendimiento, teniendo que volver a trabajar de empleado como mecánico automotriz en un taller, luego de haber logrado ser su propio jefe.
One of my aunts’ neighbors, a man who had barely finished elementary school, ran a simple business that generated high profits: buying everyday items to resell in foreign markets.
César (a fictitious name to protect his real identity) one day hopped into his old pickup truck and set out to deliver toiletries and hygiene products, as well as generic reading glasses, to communities far from the city. Living in the urban plains region, it wasn’t hard to find villages where certain services were scarce or nonexistent.
To his surprise, they welcomed him as if he were a godsend, and in less than two hours, not only had he sold everything, but he also returned with orders for the following weekend.
It was a time of spare-parts shortages in Venezuela, and since he worked as a mechanic, it was difficult to bring home a living wage. So, following the advice of one of his regular customers at the repair shop, he took some of his savings and made that first investment, which yielded satisfactory results.
As the months went by, he began adding furniture (display cases, beds, cribs, tables) as well as casual clothing. It was like a shopping center on wheels, and he was also able to involve his son, who had a pickup truck of his own.
He implemented a weekly payment plan for higher-value items, but only for a few regular customers. A few years later, after a run-in with the National Guard—who confiscated his merchandise—he decided to quit the business and go back to auto repair.
César, already familiar with the reality of those isolated highways, could have anticipated that his routines were being watched—whether by police officers or thieves who often see opportunities to commit crimes.
So he could have invested in a closed-body truck so that no one could see his merchandise, or rented a space to set up a store that he could stock during the week and open only on weekends.
Perhaps he should have limited himself to selling small items that wouldn’t attract attention, or made those deliveries once a month and outside of business hours, when he might run into officials who would put up obstacles (although obviously this shouldn’t happen)
However, the lesson still hadn’t sunk in for him, and he continued making deliveries in his son’s pickup truck, only to suffer the misfortune of being robbed on the road—losing both the merchandise and the vehicle—which brought his retail sales in the inland towns to an end.
The lesson came too late for César, who learned the hard way that the same actions lead to the same results. In his case, it started with corrupt guards, then moved on to criminals, who ultimately put an end to his business, forcing him to go back to working as an employee—an auto mechanic at a repair shop—after he had finally managed to become his own boss.
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