Part 47ª A Mexican Odyssey “But Guillermo, you don’t even clean fish!”

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APOLOGIZE, v.i. To lay the foundation for a future offence.
Ambrose Bierce

My stint as a restaurateur lasted about 18 months; just long enough to make my partners rich -- by their standards.

All of their kids now had shoes and decent clothing, the burros had been traded-in on pickup trucks, and everyone had learned quickly how to keep a set of double books. There was even a bank account, into which excess monies kept pouring in daily. What more did they need? Certainly not a gringo partner any longer. Tacho came to me one day, APOLOGIZED profusely, and "returned" my investment.

The peso/dollar exchange rate had changed from 22.50-1 to something like 220-1 by this time, so of course they elected to pay me back in pesos rather than the dollars I had given them. Just like that. They had talked it over, and decided that the business should be kept in the family - Tacho, his sons, and a nephew.

Tacho said that his family complained that I was getting 20 percent of the business, and I didn't work in the kitchen, didn't wait tables, serve as a bartender, clean fish or prepare vegetables, or anything! I just sat around in the bar and played guitar and sang songs, and drank rum. They didn't think that was worth 20 percent.

I said, "Tacho, do you realize what you're saying? Don't you understand that the reason that you have over 200 people a day in your restaurant is because I put them there? I deliver them to your restaurant daily, and encourage them to buy food and drinks.

I keep them in your restaurant by playing guitar, so they will not wander up the beach and eat at Pichon's restaurant. If you tell me that I am no longer your partner, then why should I do this? Perhaps I will take them to Pichon's, then where will you be?"

Tacho smiled at me as if he were talking to a child. Couldn't I see that he was already successful beyond imagination? People came to his restaurant because they loved the food and the service. His family provided that. If a few tour-boat customers strolled up the beach to

Pichón's, so what? There were more than enough tourists to go around, and more coming every day.

In short, they didn't think that they needed me at all.

The money should be split between the real workers in the family. I was amazed! Tacho and family had absolutely no concept of what public relations meant. They had no idea of what I had done for them. I had to go. So I did. Well, two could play at this game. The following day I carefully briefed Captains and crews of both Bora-Bora boats about what had transpired, and they agreed to anchor at Las Animas directly in front of Pichón's restaurant, some distance up the beach from Tacho's. As we disembarked, I instructed every person aboard both boats, by bullhorn, to go directly to Pichón's restaurant, right next to my beach house. Of course that's what they did - all 200 of them. Perhaps six people wandered up the beach as far away as Tacho's.

About two weeks later Tacho came to me almost in tears. What was going on? Why was I not bringing clients to his restaurant? Why was I taking everybody to Pichón's? Was I no longer his friend? Was it the money? Perhaps they had been hasty. Perhaps we could work something out... I told him to forget it. I was familiar with his exchange rate and sense of fair play in business. He had taught me.