The time for changes does not always come by itself; sometimes, there are necessary steps to take in order to make these changes happen. Every time we get into something new, opportunities often appear disguised as problems, and therefore, it is very important to keep your eyes wide open to not let them pass by. I remember one of these opportunities where I thought that what I was going through was nothing but a waste of time, just a rough patch that, in the end, would not serve me at all. It was the year 2005, and on April´s Thursday in the morning, I got ready to get out of bed. My mother gave me her blessing, and in my hand, I carried a bag full of the product I would sell that day. My starting point was the bus station in Acarigua, a small city in Portuguesa, one of the farmer’s states in Venezuela, where I was born and raised.
I got there, as usual, around eight in the morning, ready to take the next bus on its way to Valencia. Just getting to that terminal made me realize that a new day was about to begin, and surely I would have to face, beside other informal sellers, my fear of speaking in public. Since I had always been a very shy girl, speaking in public was quite a challenge for me; however, my city´s lack of employment left me no other choice.
When I turned to my left, there she was, my strongest adversary—a seller who had been working in the buses for more than four years. She gave me a defiant look. It was her way to intimidate me and keep me out of her path. I still remembered the day I met her, and her greeting phrase was, “I hope you won’t get in my way if you want to keep that face of yours in one piece!” She was the leader of a group of five girls who had been selling in that zone for four years; she was so cowardly, I looked down. I knew she meant what she said for one of the guys nicknamed “Mente” (Spanish word for mind), who used to sell coffee and has already warned me about them.
Mente was a not-so-tall, thin, brown-skinned man, and he used to always wear sunglasses. I remember Mente not only telling me everything about those girls, but he also gave me a brief summary of the things I would see in that lawless town called motorway toll, something I was so grateful for; however, as time passed, I found out “Mente” was a well-earned nickname for someone who used to get along with everybody, but he was nobody´s friend.
Simply put, Mente was somebody who would always know how to tip the balance in favor of him so that he would get away with any problem; besides, he was capable of doing a report without omitting a single detail of the abundant stories in that place where authorities would turn a blind eye to what was going on around them and where the law of the strongest prevailed. Mente advised me to not pretend to be a heroine and stay away from those girls, as far away as I could. I took that on board and decided to do my best to go unnoticed.
“Hey, Muchacha! The bus is about to leave!” Said to me the collector of the bus I was waiting for. In Venezuela, it is used to have, apart from the bus driver, another person who collects the fare passengers pay, so that way, the driver will only take care of the road. I got on the bus, and it started off. My heart was beating a mile a minute, for I knew that in almost ten minutes, I would have to speak right in front of forty-five people loudly, so that everyone would hear me confidently in order to convince them all that my product would be useful, but at the same time, graciously, so I would have their affection and therefore create a trusting environment. Although they were aware they could buy my product anywhere else, they would feel the necessity to get it from me.
The product to offer that day was "toothbrushes." I know you may wonder, “What can you say about a toothbrush?” Yet, you would be surprised at the excuses sellers use to promote anything they have in their hands. On one of those occasions, while I was waiting at the terminal for the bus to leave, an old man sitting on one of the benches asked me, “What is it you sell?” to what, with a bit of sadness in my eyes and no enthusiasm at all, I answered: “Toothbrushes, sir!” The old man got up from the bench while he held up his stick, and looking right into my eyes, he said to me, “You still have a lot to learn, Muchacha, because this is not about what you sell, it is about you! Don’t forget it!” If it had depended on me, I said to myself, I would not be here. If only I had a better option… if only… Oh, that ten-year-old little girl who dreamed of traveling and visiting other continents! She did not deserve this; I had failed her. I felt, though, as if life slapped me right there, waking me up from my daydream.
The minutes had passed already when the collector looked at me with a gesture that said, “It’s time!” I got nervous, as usual, in the first bus, and as the day went on getting in and off the buses, the nervousness faded away; it was like breaking the ice for me. In a certain way, that first bus set my mood for the rest of the day. So, if you are afraid of doing something, the best you could do is get it done without giving it too much thought. I used to stand on the bus aisle, holding myself still between two of the first seats as the bus kept on the road, filling my lungs with as much air as I could hold, and there my day started: “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! The product I am going to give you won’t make you itch or bite you, so you can see it without any obligation.” I walked till the bus aisle´s end, delivering toothbrushes to everyone there, then I stood back again between the first two seats and gave my final speech. Normally, I used to end up saying something funny that would make people burst into laughter and, at the same time, make me look spontaneous. When we reached the first motorway toll, I got off the bus with my bag a bit lighter; however, there were a few more buses to take before it was completely emptied. Back in those times, motorway tolls were the places where every car or bus driver should stop briefly just to pay for a tax fare established by the government to transit on that highway.
As I expected, when I got to the motorway toll, those girls were there with that menacing look always. They were used to fighting, and as the newbie myself, I was invading their territory. At the motorway toll, everybody respected them. Nobody dared mess up with them. They had built a tough girls’ image and had gotten rid of every seller who got in their way. Every time I saw them, Mente’s piece of advice came to mind so that I would stay out of trouble. I waited a little bit more before I could take the next bus, for these should be the ones they used to leave behind; normally, these left-behind buses would have few passengers, and so I used to make my day out of left-behind buses. Now that I think back, I realize that it was not easy to see them smirking. I am pretty sure behind those defiant looks, each and every one of them must have had a sad story to tell.
That morning, when I got out of my place, there was a cloudy sky. It was a storm approaching, and everything got more complicated since finding shelter from the rain was not simple, and even though the motorway toll had a roof all over, informal sellers were not allowed to wait for the buses under it. So we usually would have to take shelter from the sun under a leafy big tree settled aside the motorway toll, and every time we spotted a bus in the distance, we would run to catch it at the brief stop they had to make in order to pay the fare to transit. The storm was relentless. Under the big tree, there were only three informal sellers when the rain started: Mente, who used to sell coffee; a boy who sold some coconut-type sweets; and myself with my bag of toothbrushes. Each of us ran to take shelter whenever we could. I had my bag knotted and ran to an old abandoned kiosko, which only had the roof still standing above, a few meters from the motorway toll. I got it all soaked and placed my bag on the floor. As I waited for the rain to pass, a thought took hold of me and I constantly said to myself, “This is just a passing situation! Hold on a bit more! Just as this storm, this situation will pass too, for in the book of your life, there´s so many pages still to be written.
That inner voice was right. Around six months later, I saved some money, and with my mother’s help, I would have enough to move out of state and start a cabin crew member course. As the years passed by, I could travel to Europe, learn English, and one day, when looking for a job, I would be given the chance to be part of a tourist company’s seller’s group. I think I complained so much when I was going through all those things, but I never imagined that experience would be so vital for me to perform satisfactorily in what I do now. Even though in the book of my life there are many pages still to be written, I have decided to appreciate the lesson of this moment, which is also preparing me for greater things than myself.
For this reason, never underestimate any situation you are going through. Probably, it is the previous training for what is expected of you. After ten years, I finally understand that old man’s words: “This is not about what you sell; it is about you!” It was never about the toothbrushes, but the life lesson that situation was giving me and my attitude towards it despite the circumstances in which I was living. This is why I only tell you that it is not about divorce, loneliness, breaking up, financial crisis, age, deceptions, who let you down, sickness, widowhood, or any circumstance you are going through. This is and always will be about you.
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