The howl of expat cheapskates in the Land of Cheap

One of the more curious subspecies of expats is the small but noisy contingent that is utterly obsessed with the price of things; more specifically, they are obsessed with the notion that they are being over-charged by Ecuadorians and that other expats are complicit in the rip-off.

It almost doesn’t matter what the commodity or service is, these folks work themselves into a lather. It can be the price of dinner, an ice cream cone, a haircut, a restaurant tip, maid service, or an apartment rental — or, more recently, the donations given to Venezuelan beggars squatting on city sidewalks.

In calculating the value of things, many of the cheapskates presume to have inside knowledge of the finer points of the Ecuadorian economy and culture, claiming to know what’s best for Ecuadorians and how things ought to work if only other expats weren’t upsetting the status quo.

Mostly, they rant on social media where they are easily ignored, but all too frequently they hold forth in public at social gatherings, and in restaurants and bars, where they are hard to avoid.

Does it take a genius to figure out a fair price?

Strong opinions are fine, of course, and real rip-offs and gringo-gouging should be confronted and rejected wherever they raise their ugly head. On the other hand, it is the obsessive “people-like-you-are-to-blame” outrage directed at fellow expats that crosses the line of common sense and begs the question: where does the anger come from?

Back in the home country, which is almost always the United States, most of these angry folks kept their feelings contained, understanding that they would be seen as ignorant bores and loudmouths had they voiced their complaints. If the object of their consternation was, say, a high-priced meal, they would, like anyone else, simply go to a cheaper restaurant. Or, if they couldn’t afford one apartment, they would look for another.

It is hard to imagine a customer in a Manhattan restaurant being told, after leaving a generous tip, “Big tippers like you are ruining things for the rest of us New Yorkers.” Or, a new tenant in San Francisco, after signing an apartment lease, being advised, “You know, you could have gotten the same place in Petaluma for half the price.”

But in Expatlandia, where personal histories are sketchy or unknown entirely, all restraints are off, and the price-obsessed anoint themselves experts. They are free to advise fellow expats that so-and-so restaurant is run by thieves and that the driver taking you to Guayaquil doubles the price for gringos.

The cheapskates position themselves as protectors of the innocent, sometimes assuming the role of facilitators to newcomers. Their pitch: it’s a dangerous world out there, filled with shysters and snake oil merchants, and we’re here to help you navigate the treacherous shoals of living in a strange land — and don’t, by the way, listen to other expats who tell you to relax and enjoy yourself.

So, what’s the source of the cheapskate sound and fury?

It starts, obviously, with Cuenca’s reputation for being one of the least expensive overseas destinations, which, naturally enough, draws a crowd focused on cheapness. Needless-to-say, many of them are sorely disappointed when things are not as cheap as advertised.

And then there’s the undeniable element of class warfare, anger at those who can afford something better and are willing and able to pay for it.

These folks come to Ecuador filled with the anger of being denied what they feel was rightfully theirs back home, ready to reinvent themselves and make a new start in the land of Big Rock Candy Mountain. When their expectations are dashed, the anger reasserts itself with a vengeance and they look for scapegoats.

Fortunately, most of the malcontents don’t last long here and return to the U.S. still nursing their anger and unhappiness. Unfortunately, more of them seem to be on the way.