The Selfless Merchant

The Selfless Merchant

            My education at AUBG has made me a lot of friends and has given me many occasions to meet interesting people. The remarkable ones, however, are the local people I encounter every day on the streets of Blagoevgrad. One of them is Stanislav Damyanov, or as I named him, “The selfless merchant.”

Stanislav is 38. His daily routine is to get up, go out and sell mobile accessories on the town’s main street across Billa. We have all seen him. Oftentimes, he is the first one to start work early on the shopping street and the last one to leave. He does not own a shop, but a limited area on the road, given to him by the Municipality of Blagoevgrad. Stanislav’s main helpers are his brother and sister, who usually stay around him.

I stopped by to see him last week, because I enjoy my casual conversations with him, unburdened by the thought of whether or not I will bring him profit. We can speak for 2 or 22 minutes, during which he tells me about his biweekly trips to Istanbul from where he imports all the stock. This time, I decided to ask him about his stand on Bulgarian politics. How does he, the small-time businessman from Blagoevgrad, meet his daily expenses? It turned out he has in interesting story.

Stanislav went to primary school, where he studied Russian, which was mandatory at the time. “I have an excellent knowledge of Russian,” said Damyanov in Bulgarian. Although his trips take him to Turkey, he does not understand a bit of the language. After primary school, Stanislav attended the professional school for civil construction in Blagoevgrad where he spent only two years. At the time, he was young and fatigue-proof, so he started selling bananas imported from Turkey. I don’t know how many readers would recall, but during Socialism in Bulgaria and a few years after that, bananas, oranges and all fruits that Bulgarians couldn’t grow domestically were of real shortage. Thus, Stanislav’s idea was innovative at the time.

In 1996, he changed bananas with cell phone accessories. “They [phones] had just come out and were slowly, but surely entering the Bulgarian market,” said Stanislav [in Bulgarian]. First, he started selling on the central market, which he jokes, “was not that dead as it is today.” Then, again, one step ahead of his competitors, he took the spot on the main shopping street, exposing his business to the hundreds of people passing by.

So, I ask, “Do you feel that your job is being undervalued in Bulgaria?” Stanislav, although not the least critical, answered that even though things are difficult for him economically, leaving Bulgaria is a solution of last resort. “I would only move to Israel, because of their well-constructed social system,” said Stanislav [in Bulgarian]. “I support the anti-governmental protests, because those politicians are corrupt and lie to us. I didn’t get the chance to participate in one, because, well, someone has to work and earn the living,” he said.

If someone asks me how would I describe Stanislav, there are two words that pop in my mind: good and selfless. Even before we became close, I noticed that the products he sells have the lowest prices in town, and are extremely cheap in comparison with bigger cities. He has adjusted his business to the standards of living in Blagoevgrad, while his competitors sell with 30% increase in pricing. So I ask again, “Why?” Isn’t business’ main goal to earn profit for the owner? Apparently not if that owner is Stanislav. “I realize people cannot afford expensive goods, so I lower my prices. Do you think anyone would buy this (points at a leather iPhone case) if it was 30 lv?” he said.

That is why I call him “selfless.” He is genuinely good and diverts from the image of the typical businessman, whose sole goal is to make a profit. Oftentimes when I walk by, he calls me up and gives me small gifts; whenever I buy something, he gives me a discount. I want to pay, but he refuses. “It’s a gift,” he says and smiles.

This is Stanislav: a man with no higher education, but still technically savvy. Although his small business does not bring him fortunes, he could easily be called an entrepreneur. At a time when the private sector was just beginning to develop in Bulgaria, Stanislav was already in it. He foresaw the advent of mobile phones and quickly reoriented his work. He proudly shows his “GERB” membership card, but doesn’t try to advertise it in your face. In the 21^st century, he is an honest man with an honest business and no desire to trick the clients. Every day he works on the street, regardless of the burning sun or the freezing wind. I recall his words: “Someone has to earn the living.”

The street. This is where Bulgaria would put its honest men.

Here is a video where you can see what Stanislav’s typical workday is.