Contrasting Styles

On one 15-minute bus ride last week, four different vendors got on the bus.

I like to divide these characters into two categories.

You have someone who comes on with a product and sells without explaining why they need you to buy the product. These ones typically sell fruit or biscuits.

The other class of vendors are the ones that get on the bus, get everyone's attention, and explain that this is how they try to make an honest living. These guys normally sell candy, DVDs, inspirational cards, or — most likely — fear that if you don't give them money they will turn to a life of petty crime.

On my bus ride last week, I had four of the latter variety.

The first guy got on the bus, was a little disheveled, and looked like he might not have been sober. He gave a shpiel about how he is just trying to make an honest living to get bread for his family. Then he walked up and down the aisle, giving out inspirational cards to all the passengers. After giving them us a moment to look at the cards, he walks up and the aisle again, asking people for their collaboration. Other passengers on the bus got a pictures of Jesus with some religious message. I got a picture of an adorable kitten. A bunch of other people on the bus paid 25 cents for their piece of paper. I don't normally support the vendors to begin with and didn't really see any utility in a pocket-sized picture of a kitten.

After this vendor completed his rounds and got off the bus, another one took over. This one was a loud guy with an obvious coastal accent. Instead of selling any specific product, he went with a sob story about how he was mugged and didn't have any money. He also said that at some point in the past he was shot four times in the stomach. He lifted up his shirt to "show" but then covered his stomach up before anyone could notice whether or not he was lying. He went up and down the aisle collecting contributions before getting off the bus.

Another vendor immediately got on. This one was talking about how by selling Christmas CDs to put bread on his family's table. He repeated the same routine as the previous two, except that most people had exhausted their loose change at this point and didn't have much to contribute.

Another guy got on the bus selling little candies, but I had to get off before he finished his routine.

Neither of these vendors were particularly extraordinary. The volume of vendors in such a short ride — it was only a mile and half make excrutiatingly long by Quito's rush hour traffic — and the contrast in sales pitches (cute kitten followed by bullet wounds) made this a blog-worthy experience.