Trust in a million

“It's OK! Just pay me the next time you are in the area.” I did not live in this part of the city, nor had he ever seen me before. Yet, without writing down how much I owed him, he trusted that someday I would come back and pay my debt.

My great-grandma used to tell me stories of her life growing up in rural Tennessee. There was only one general store in their town, and the owner knew every resident of the county. Times were tough, and many people could not afford to buy necessities using regular currency. The shopkeeper would barter, trading eggs for sugar, or extending credit if needed. No lawyers were involved; it was simply an act of trust and the honor system. I associate this kind of system with small communities, where everyone knows each other. A bustling city of millions like İstanbul seems the least likely of places for the honor system to still play a huge role.

I went back to my car and rushed home to get my wallet, then drove back to the shop to pay my debt. The two lira weighed heavily on my mind. When I walked back into the shop an hour later, the man seemed surprised. “You didn't have to rush back home!” he exclaimed. He told me that I could pay it whenever was convenient for me. He knew I would pay him back someday. This blind faith in a stranger puzzled yet inspired me. At first, I mused that he must have trusted me more because I was not Turkish. That theory was immediately debunked as I saw many Turks also the recipient of such trust in situations similar to mine. When I asked my friends about it, they were very nonchalant. It's just the way things are here, they explained. Eight years ago when I first moved to İstanbul everyone told me the biggest crime in İstanbul was theft. Pickpocketing, burgling and car theft are normal İstanbul vices. The murder rate is surprisingly low; I have lived in smaller American cities with a homicide rate much higher. One would conclude, then, that if theft was such a problem trust would deteriorate. I have found in İstanbul it to be the opposite. If a shop owner deals with several forgetful customers like me a day, how can he make a profit? How can he be sure that everyone he trusts will pay him back?

This has not only happened to me at small shops. Once when at a restaurant their credit card machine was offline. Rather than have me wait for it to be repaired, the manager just wrote their bank account information on the back of a business card and asked me to wire the amount to their account instead. At home, I promptly did it. However, if I had chosen not to, the restaurant had nothing of mine as collateral. I could easily have walked away without ever paying. When I ask my Turkish friends if people take advantage of the system, most of them say no. It's in many people's nature that if someone puts faith in you after only meeting you for a second, there is an innate willingness to keep your word.

That isn't to say that getting ripped off never happens. In several touristy districts of İstanbul I have noticed two separate menus offered, with more than just a different language on each. The “converted” currency doesn't match, with the English menus at times charging more for the same item on the Turkish menu. A few taxi drivers have not given me back the correct amount of change, or have played with the taxi meter or route in order to get more money from an unsuspecting tourist. These are typical frauds that occur all over the world. When I moved to İstanbul from the US, I expected these kinds of incidents. I did not expect the opposite -- to be trusted on more than one occasion with nothing given as collateral, or without any fees or interest accrued.

I blame my pleasant surprise in part on the lack of small “mom and pop” stores in the US. When I was really young, we used to go to a local butcher shop where the butcher knew everyone by name. Those places could not keep up with the cheaper prices of superstores like Wal-Mart and have basically become extinct. I am happy to say that İstanbul and Turkey in general is still full of small stores. We currently have our local favorite butcher shop, we buy water from a nearby water seller, seasonal fruits and vegetables from the corner greengrocer, and our odds and ends at the tiny market across from our building. Each place knows us by name. When we call and place orders, they deliver right away. The flipside is that shopping becomes a social affair, with an offer of tea and inquiries on how the family is doing, local gossip or some news tidbit to discuss. While it might take a bit longer to shop, I know that developing this relationship takes a lot of stress out of my day. Some of the shopkeepers even hold their best item for my husband Can and notify him when there is something new he might be interested in. Our butcher is a perfect case in point. Can in turn brings the man some items from Germany when he travels there on business. Since they are small places, paying by credit card can cause them to have extra fees. Paying in cash is easier and can also make the items cheaper. I learned early on whenever shopping for anything to ask the salespeople if the price listed would be cheaper should I pay in cash. Many times the answer is yes, and the price is reduced.

In previous articles, I have stated that a large city like İstanbul is able to run smoothly because it functions in a gray area. Things are not black and white here. While this means some things take lots of negotiating, it means that in many ways conducting daily business here can be easier. Although I hope to never forget my wallet again when out, it's nice to know that it's not the end of the world and I can still get my work done until I am able to pay. I also feel positively empowered that perfect strangers can trust my word. These small town gestures help me ward off homesickness.

Elle Loftis is an expat writer and mom living in İstanbul. For questions or comments, please contact her at e.loftis@todayszaman.com.