I lived in Santiago, Chile for a time. Every day that I was home, a man would walk down Avenida Suecia blowing an annoying, harmonica-like whistle and pulling a box on wheels. The tune was incessant and the man’s gait methodical.
He nearly drove me insane. Worse, I had no idea why he kept making that racket.
It was rather apparent that the man was trying to attract business, but, because I never saw anyone even speak to him, let along pay for something, I couldn’t fathom what that business could be.
One day, as he whistled his way past my apartment, fraying my nerves with each exhalation into his noisy device, I decided I could take the suspense no longer. I ran downstairs and asked the doorman what was annoying man’s line of business.
The whistle blower was a knife sharpener, I was told. It is a Chilean tradition for men to walk the streets blowing the exact same whistle, playing the exact same tune, to attract the attention of people who need sharp knives. The customers actually bring their knives out to the street, where they are run through the sharpener that the vendor has in tow.
In five months, I never saw anyone employee the man’s services. I hope he had another source of income.
