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By Jonathan Clark
Prologue: On Nov. 15, 2005, Mark Stevenson of AP broke the story of a Mexico City shopkeeper, who, tired of being told what she could sell in her store, challenged Coca-Cola and won.
The following day, I got a call from The Daily Mirror, a London tabloid, asking if I could find the shopkeeper, interview her, and write a 1,200-word "color" piece for them. You know: lots of vivid quotes, anecdotes, descriptions, etc., for a TINY SHOPKEEPER SLAYS MULTINATIONAL BULLY! exclusive.
I found the woman, interviewed her, wrote the story and mailed it in. But when it came out on Nov. 18 in the Daily Mirror, they had chopped it up, added in a few bits from Stevenson's original story and slapped their own reporter's byline on it (I got paid anyway).
Anyway, here's the original as I wrote it.
Chavez was just closing up that evening when a man rushed in, grabbed her, and pressed a knife to her side. "I could tell by his smell and manner that he had been drinking and using drugs," she said. "So even though he was much bigger and much younger than me, I decided I could fight him." She seized the man's arm, gave a mighty pull, and the two tumbled out onto the sidewalk. Stunned, the attacker jumped up and took flight. For her part, Chavez sustained three broken ribs in the fall. But a day later, she was right back on the job. "In 13 years of running this shop, I've never missed a day of work," she said. "If I close for a day, then the following day I won't have any money to go shopping, pay my bills or even to eat." At first glance, the soft-spoken Chavez would seem an unlikely candidate to take on a knife-wielding thug - not to mention a giant multinational soft drink manufacturer. But three years ago, after a vindictive Coca-Cola distributor cut off her supply, Chavez fought back. And as was the case with her would-be robber, she won. A handsome woman of 49 years, Raquel sat on an overturned Coca-Cola case in front of her tiny grocery Thursday and recounted her battle with the soft drink giant. Dressed modestly in a floral print shirt, plain black pants and shoes, she kneaded her hands nervously as she spoke, punctuating her anecdotes with gentle laughs and warm smiles. But her mild and unpretentious air belied the never-say-die fighting spirit that led to her David-versus-Goliath victory. A BIG MISTAKE It all started back in early 2003, when Chavez's Coca-Cola distributor threatened to cut her off after she began selling 3-liter bottles of the aptly named rival brand, Big Cola. The distributor demanded that Chavez get rid of Big and agree to an exclusivity deal with Coke - an illegal endeavor in Mexico, but one widely practiced nevertheless. Chavez, however, would hear nothing of it. "I said that my dignity was not for sale," she said. "I told them Mexico is a free country, and I decide what I sell in my store, not Coca-Cola." Chavez dug in her heels and readied for a fight - contrary to the advice of her husband Luis, 65. "That was the hardest part of it all," she said. "My husband was pressuring me to take their terms. He kept telling me: 'Accept it, accept it; you're never going to win.'" But she wouldn't accept it, and instead filed a complaint with Mexico's competition commission, claiming that her Coca-Cola distributor's strongarm tactics violated anti-monopoly laws. And this week, almost three years later, the commission agreed, fining a Coca-Cola Co. subsidiary and dozens of distributors and bottlers here some US$68 million. "It wasn't that I doubted Raquel," said her shamefaced husband on Thursday. "I just thought, 'Who in the world can defeat a company as big as Coca-Cola?'" "But she fought for her rights and she beat them." FROM A TOUGH NEIGHBORHOOD Chavez's shop - called "La Racha," or "Lucky Streak" in English - sits at the top of a long hill in Mexico City's gritty Iztapalapa neighborhood. The view from her stoop stretches out over the razor wire-topped walls of a primary school, past block after block of decaying public housing, and out over the smog-draped slums that stretch for miles to the south of the Americas' largest metropolis. Like all of Mexico's ubiquitous mom-and-pop stores, La Racha's tiny 10-foot-square space is packed to the rafters with practically every product imaginable. Coca-Cola and Pepsi soft drink coolers stand facing each other at either side of the entrance, almost as if engaged in a stare-down. Inside, there's a wire rack stuffed full with popular Bimbo brand breads. Then there's a top-loading refrigerator bearing cartons of Boing! fruit juice and processed meats from Fud (the company's name is pronounced "food" in Spanish). Behind a wall of heavy wire fencing are shelves filled with canned beans and chilis and household supplies ranging from toilet paper and laundry soap to flyswatters and votive candles. The cash register sits behind the fence as well, for along Iztapalapa's mean streets, shop owners like Chavez conduct their business from inside the safety of metal cages. "Here, the honest people are behind bars and the criminals run free," she said. Chavez moved with her parents to Iztapalapa from the central state of Guanajuato when she was just a baby. Her father had been a landless peasant farmer who was hoping to find a better life for his seven children in the nation's capital. But even in those days, Iztapalapa was a tough neighborhood, and it shaped Chavez and her siblings. "All of us were fighters, but I was the toughest of all," she said with a smile. "I think it's a special gift that God gave me." That gift was put to perhaps its greatest test in March of 2003, when her Coca-Cola distributor made good on his threat and cut off her supply - on the eve of a long holiday weekend, no less. Chavez felt the hit immediately. "We all know that a store in Mexico that doesn't sell Coca-Cola will end up in ruin," she said. CRAZY FOR COKE Indeed, Mexicans love soft drinks, and especially Coca-Cola. The country is the world's biggest per capita consumer of soft drinks, and Coke controls approximately 70 percent of the domestic market. "People were coming into the store and saying, 'You don't have Coca-Cola?'" Chavez recalled. "And I would say, 'Support me on this! We have to stick together to defend our rights as Mexicans.' But Coca-Cola is a hard habit for people to break." So Chavez decided that if her distributor wouldn't bring Coke to her store, she'd do it herself. Each morning, she would go to a local wholesale market and load up her 1979 Dodge dart with 30 cases of the beverage - by herself. Her husband Luis, still sure that she would never win, refused to help. To Chavez, it seemed as if the whole world was turning against her. The same week that she lost her Coca-Cola deliveries, her elderly father suffered a bad fall while crossing the street. And shortly thereafter, one of her best friends committed suicide. But she had her indomitable will, and she had the backing of her three children - now 26, 28 and 30 - who recalled how their mother put in as many as 20 hours a day at the store, six days a week, in order to send them to university. "'Don't give up, Mom, don't give up!' they would tell me," she recalled. "My children were the only ones who really supported me during all of this." Chavez didn't give up, and eventually, her Coca-Cola distributor began to realize he had bit off more than it could chew. Chavez's complaint had been joined by PepsiCo., as well as the Peru-based upstart, Big Cola. The case was gaining momentum. Slowly and grudgingly, her distributor returned her service. Crates filled with empty 2.5-liter Coke bottles began to pile up again outside of La Racha, while Big Cola, now up to 3.3 liters in size, remained on sale. Then came the announcement that Chavez and her co-complainants had won their case. TV, radio and newspaper reporters descended on her little shop, and working-class Iztapalapa had a new hero. "It was a very brave thing that she did," said Martha Lavalle, 34, a local teacher and loyal customer at La Racha. "We live in a country where too often, the little people keep quiet and don't complain. So she's been an example to all of us." As for Chavez, she won't receive any of the money from the fines levied against Coca-Cola. But, she insists, that was never the point. "I feel good just knowing that I am a citizen who defended her rights," she said. "In my store, I have the right to sell whatever I want to, and no company, no matter how big, can take that right away."
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