Sometimes, the life-lessons here in San Miguel take indirect routes or come in clever disguises. Take, for instance, Mexican vendors. Our interaction with them has been nothing but cheerful, polite and respectful.

My kids learn much about sales—and customer service—every time we interact with these ingenious marketers.

Never let a possible sale get away

One time, we showed some interest in woven carpets borne on the back of a Mexican gentleman’s bicycle. We asked the price and, as we headed toward the Jardín, we promised to purchase one or two on our return. A few minutes after arriving in the Jardín, my daughter Finleigh said, “Mummy, that man is running after us.” Sure enough, our carpet friend had left his bicycle three blocks back and chased after us to offer additional customer service. He asked us our address and told us he’d deliver the carpets right to our door. Well, of course, we bought two right on the spot.

Be good to your “regulars”

Because our family is an incredible creature of habit, we have the tendency to frequent establishments with incredible (read: stubborn) devotion. Our favorite taco stand opens after 8pm on Mesones, and is partly owned by our (now) friend Lucas. No matter how solid the crowd on any given night, Lucas always bellows a big friendly “Hola, Pablo!” to my husband over the heads of all the rest and then, within minutes, we’re served. (He knows our usual order). And Luce Marie, who was our flower vendor last year, knocked on our door each week.

I always had her money waiting in case the kids answered the door, and she always saved me a bunch of my favorites: astralmaria. Most days, she presented me or Finleigh or Hanna with a little regalo—a little bunch of miniature roses or a sunflower. Now you tell me why I would ever buy flowers from anyone else?

It’s not about the sale;it’s the relationship

We all learned last year that we couldn’t possibly help each and every person who knocked on our door—nor buy goods from every vendor. So instead, we came up with a plan: We’d buy big boxes of granola bars and fill up water bottles to keep by the door. Then, whenever my kids answered the door, they could say a polite “No, gracias” and offer a small snack instead. To my kids, it was like Halloween everyday! They race to the door each time the buzzer buzzes so they can dole out the “goods.” One mother-daughter team takes their daily break at our house. After receiving their water and granola bars, they would settle down for a rest on our doorstep. Several times, we’d have to squeeze by them in our doorway, but they were always so gracious and cheerful. I actually don’t think we ever bought the seeds they had to sell, but that didn’t seem to matter to either party.

Have a distinctive marketing campaign

Many sanmiguelenses know the familiar cantor’s call of the maíz man who shuffles slowly up and down Centro streets, carrying his heavy load. In perfectly timed intervals, he delivers his list of products with the projection and crescendo that would shame most opera baritones. It took us ages to decipher even one word of his product line, but eventually we made out what we thought was the word cacahuates. Although we’re not partial to the soft boiled nuts popular here in Mexico, my kids still insisted on buying some from him one day. So we trotted off after him—only to discover that he had nothing other than a bucket of corn, from which he served us. At the time, we thought it was just a funny Mexican thing that the man who yelled “cacahuates...” didn’t want to change his sales pitch even on the days when he only had corn. But then as I listened more carefully to his call, I could swear he really was saying maíz—but I never told my kids.

Whenever possible, be eloquent

Finally, I remember the absolutely beautiful parting words from the waiter who served us one night at a local hot-spot. The place was filled with 20-somethings out for a good time. Our waiter, too, looked no older than 21 or 22, yet still, after we paid, he slightly bowed with respect and delivered a somewhat lengthy parting, which my husband loosely translated as “I wait patiently for your return.” I was floored. It was such a beautiful expression, and I could only imagine what a norteamericano counterpart might have said—something more akin to “Later, Dude!”