Editorial Gonzalez Porto (that was the name of my new employer), with headquarters in Barcelona, Spain and Mexico City, Mexico, was to be managed in Guayaquil by a young man from the Highlands (a Serrano as known to the people from Guayaquil), with little or no knowledge of the city of Guayaquil and he had been looking for a person to be in charge of collecting notes arising from credit sales. Hernan Daza was the name of the book store’s manager; he was a friend of my sister Letty husband’ family and was very happy to accept me as one of the “collectors” of the business he was going to manage. My knowledge of the city and its people came handy to him and I was now going to have a salary of 150 Sucres a month, plus a 5% commission on all amounts collected.
By the end of the first quarter, I was making a nice income of over six hundred Sucres a month, a salary which in those days was enough for an adult person with a family of two to keep his family modestly going. By now, I had income far in excess of what I needed to self support. I talked to my older brothers, Pepe and Pancho and suggested that we join efforts and invite mom to come to Guayaquil with my younger brother Guido so she could take care of all of us four boys. While the older three would be in charge of supplying the resources we needed to become a united family again. The bad side of this was that Dad was going to have to remain in Pallatanga, all by himself, separated from the rest of the family, but he had his crops to mind and his small income as the Sheriff of Pallatanga, would allow him to self support. My mom would stop working at her bakery shop, while my dad wouldn’t have to worry about us
The matter was discussed extensively with our three older sisters, who also offered to help, which they did. At the end of that year, mom came to live with us in Guayaquil. We rented a nice three bedroom apartment in an old but well kept house in the downtown area, and, picking from here and there some old given away pieces of furniture, we were now ready to become a family again, with mom at the helmet.
A new era of my life was about to start. The rollercoaster was going to make a new thrilling turn. I had now, at the early age of 16, have not only become self sufficient, but was going to be at least partially responsible for keeping a home running. I feel now, as I felt then, that I wasn’t doing anything extraordinary, in fact, I find very strange and totally inexcusable that many people think these days that teenagers should not work, because “work takes away their opportunities to get a proper education”. I do not feel I was deprived of “proper education”, I feel that I was blessed by the opportunity to work and study at the same time at such an early age. I know it made me a more responsible individual, it made my character much stronger and if I had to choose between solidarity and wealth, I would, no doubt for a minute, choose the first. If I had to do it again, I would gladly and surely do it blindfolded. I liked this part of the ride, what a ride it was!
In September 1958 I was working in my new job. Since the company already had a receivables’ portfolio from their earlier operations handled from Quito, I was given a number of Notes to collect. Hugo Larrea, a fine 18 year old young man from a humble background was the other “collector” In the company; he was given another portion of the Receivables’ portfolio to collect. Since the number of Notes to collect on a daily basis was not high, he and I used to walk the streets of Guayaquil together. Each one of us had a small purse like bag where we kept the notes and the cash or the checks we had collected. Guayaquil was not a very dangerous city in those days, not that it was a Franciscan Town, but by very far, it was not as terribly dangerous as it has become in the last three or four years when crime has literally taken over the city. Hugo and I thought that walking together actually made the two of us much safer. We felt that we were body guarding each other.
One of the changes that was more welcome with my new job was my sleeping schedule, I was no longer awaken by the “Rafico Ya”, command from Lolo, but I was able to sleep until 7:00 AM every morning, and on Saturdays and Sundays I was able to sleep much longer, in fact, I was awakened every working day by the lovely sound of my mom’s voice singing in my ears “breakfast´ ready sweetheart”. What a change it was! There was another important change though, instead of continuing to study at the Eloy Alfaro Night Time Schedule School, I requested, and obtained, a special waiver from the Ministry of Education, to register at the Borja Lavayen Municipal High School, a school for young adults where by regulation, no one younger than 18, was allowed to register, unless waivered by a special permit. This was also a good change for me, because the school was only one block away from home and only about four blocks away from my job.
The book business started to grow, and it grew much, due to the quality of the sales crew, among which there were a group of four Spaniard guys who had left Spain fleeing the repressive Franco regime, and these guys were either good salesmen, or they just took advantage of the fascination of the locals with the stories they heard from the “Mother Land” (as locals used to call Spain). As a result, I was given more notes to collect, which I liked, but, I needed to walk much more and I was no longer able to walk together with Hugo my first six months partner. The additional work made it necessary for me to buy a bike which I did. I paid 1540 Sucres for it, 100 down and 12 notes of 120 each including interest. I felt so happy about it that I decided to make a trip to Daule (25 miles away), all by myself, to warm up my bike. Being able to ride my bike around the city made me feel great!. I had this feeling of power, of independence, and I felt like I owned the world. It’s incredible how improving your mobility can change your life, my bike did it!
Everything was going fine, I was able to do my job faster and more efficiently, which in turn resulted in more money from commissions, but it all was too good to be true, or too good to last, anyway. One month to the day, after I bought my bike it was stolen from me, right at the bottom of the Citibank building on Pichincha Street. It all happened in less than thirty seconds. I went upstairs to the first floor to see Licenciado Rigail, to collect from him a 100 Sucre note, I chain locked my bike to the handrail at the bottom of the stairs, then it took 20 seconds to go to the first floor and ring Rigail office´s bell, which I did it for three times having no answer, then I turned and looked down towards the bottom of the stairs and my bike was gone!
In my next posting: GETTING TO KNOW IMPORTANT PEOPLES’ VIRTUES AND VICES
A memoir written by a 67-year-old grandpa to tell his children and grand children about his roots, his childhood in a little village in the Ecuadorian mountains, his difficult but productive years as a teenager, his struggle to overcome the hardships of poverty through hard work and sacrifice, and his success as a corporate executive.
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