Where’s all the change in Oaxaca?

There is a deep, dark, secret hole where all the change goes, and nobody knows where it is. If you don’t believe me, go buy a 2-peso item. Pay for it with a 10-peso coin. Listen to the clerk say “No tiene cambio”? (You don’t have change?) Dig into your pocket. Discover that you do indeed have two one-peso coins. Take back your ten peso coin, hand over the change, and leave.

Walk a few steps down the street, remember you need something else, and return. There have been no other customers. The same clerk is standing at the counter. Pick an item that costs three pesos. Hand the clerk a five-peso coin. The clerk will invariably say “No tiene cambio?” What happened, you will ask yourself, to the change you just handed over? If you ask the clerk this question, he may shrug and spread his hands. (“Quién sabe?” Who can say?).

A constantly occurring low intensity war is being fought on the streets, across counters, and at the tables of restaurants, without cease, day after mind-numbing day. There are no neutral parties, and no prisoners are taken. Shopping can be as complex as a leveraged buyout, when the hapless shopper, planning on several stops, realizes that there are only a couple of small-denomination coins among the bills in his or her treasury.

For me, the problem starts at my bank. The ATM machine spits out only 200 peso bills. Unless I am paying my rent, or my phone bill, each and every one that I use will require change.

Friday Market is especially difficult. Every Friday, a traveling circus of fruits, vegetable, meat, fish, poultry, clothing, doodad, gimcrack, and audio and video sellers descends on Conzatti Park, not far from our house. For most of them, it is one stop on a week-long itinerary of market days in different locations throughout the Oaxaca area. We purchased the bulk of our perishables at this market for years. We have our favorite vendors, to whom we go back every week. They know us, and remember our preferences. They are solicitous, honest, helpful and good humored. They never seem to have change.

We start saving change on Wednesdays, in preparation for Friday’s marketing. This is difficult to do, because in order to do so, we must fight to keep the change we have, and struggle to extract more from vendors. In the process, we have learned where to go to get change.

Bus fares are three pesos. Most people who get on buses count out their change beforehand, a habit that they have developed to keep from getting shortchanged. We, on the other hand, always hand over a bill, and we have never been shorted. Buses are awash in coins: they welcome the bills, and we the change.

Likewise with the news stand where we purchase our 5-peso newspaper with a 200-peso bill. Often, the clerk will give change in 10- and 20 peso coins instead of larger bills: even better. The sidewalk cafés around the Zócalo are another good source of change. Once you have consumed your meal, you can pay them with a big bill, and what can they do about it? It’s kind of a dirty trick to play on small restaurants, however. On occasion, our waiter has had to comb the nearby businesses to break a 100-peso bill, the change for which was not available in the till.

Change is more available in the afternoon than in the morning. This confirms the most common speculations of the gringo shopping force: that the clerks are supplied with very little if any change with which to open the doors. One theory is that Mexican owners do not trust their employees with much change, for fear that they will take the money and run. I don’t like this theory, which seems to me to be racist, and puts down the workers.

I think that the shoestring profits upon which most establishments depend in order to stay open require the owner to deposit every red centavo, every night, leaving no reserve for change. The clerks are loath to have to run up and down the street looking to break bills—let alone coins. Unsure what the next customer will drop on the counter, they hang on to every bit of change they can wheedle and bluff from the trade.

If you are willing to wait in line, and don’t mind carrying the weight, rolls of coins are available at any bank. So, c’mon down. We’ve got a front row seat in the Change Wars, reserved in your name.