“What’s the rate today?”
That’s the message Juan gets every day starting around 9 am. Often it doesn’t matter if it’s Sunday, a national holiday, Christmas, or Holy Week. The demand for bolívares is always there, and Juan is always ready to supply it.
It wasn’t always this way. Back in July 2024, Juan worked in an office in Chuao from 8 to 5. The only messages he used to receive were from his bosses, friends, or family.
In fact, if you ask Juan how he got into this business, he’ll tell you he never imagined doing it. Sure, he knew many money changers and understood the basic economics, but he also knew the risks. Juan thought he didn’t have the means to take them on.
But things changed after July 28, 2024. As political tensions rose after the elections, the economic scene began to shift. After a few years of relative stability, devaluation returned to the Venezuelan context with the possibility of new sanctions looming. By late August 2024, the parallel dollar had drifted away from the official BCV dollar (Central Bank of Venezuela rate), creating an exchange rate gap.
To make matters worse, the government ordered businesses to charge prices using the official rate. If a product’s price was listed in dollars, its conversion to bolívares had to follow the BCV rate, not the rates displayed by Binance or Monitor Dólar.
That created a distortion in the economy. In practice, prices were cheaper in bolívares than in dollars, which boosted the use of bolívares: up to more than 80% of daily transactions, according to Ecoanalítica.
Juan knows the foreign exchange crimes law hangs over his head and how much changed after January 3.
That’s how Juan found his new line of work. One morning, he realized he could act as the bridge for friends and family needing to get bolívares. He first partnered with the office administrator, someone who always had bolívares on hand. But as demand grew, he had to rely on a friend already in the business to keep up.
Two years later, Juan runs a small but structured operation. He has bolívar suppliers and plenty of clients. He considers himself a retail money changer. He doesn’t handle large volumes like some of his peers, but it’s enough to live well.
Still, not everything in this world shines. He’s aware of the foreign exchange crimes law that hangs over his head, knows how much changed after January 3, and recognizes that the future may force him to evolve or rebuild.
This is the daily life of a money changer in Venezuela, his reality and expectations after the events of January 3rd.
What rate are you using?
For money changers, life revolves around two questions:
The first refers to the day’s operating rate on the market. Typically, Binance serves as the main reference for negotiations.
Juan explains that this is usually the highest rate available, and that it’s common to find bolívares slightly cheaper. At the end of the day, everyone (individuals and businesses alike) wants to minimize losses.
That’s why you might see a 3–5% difference between the Binance rate and street prices.
The money changer operates within that margin. Juan says most of his bolívares come from companies that need to unload them quickly. His power depends on the amount involved and how urgently the client needs the transaction.
When the sums are small, bolívares are usually cheaper than the Binance rate. But if the amounts are large, some people buy at a premium (above Binance) and then sell below it, closer to the street price.
That’s where the business is.
Juan expects the gap to remain due to inflation and rising economic activity. With more bolívares circulating, pressure on the parallel market will return.
As for the second question—how do you pay?—it may sound simple, but it reveals much about Venezuela’s monetary dynamics.
Basically, the question centers whether you pay in cash dollars or via Zelle. This distinction might not seem relevant elsewhere, but in Venezuela’s economy, it matters a lot.
Juan recalls that cash dominated most transactions back in 2025. Everyone paid in physical dollars, and there was growing interest in “bankarization”—something Juan even started offering as an additional service.
By early 2026, however, most payments are now done through Zelle transfers. Cash usage has dropped, and more people are urgently looking for physical dollars.
Ultimately, this just mirrors broader economic movements. During 2025, under strict sanctions, most of the dollars entering Venezuela came in cash. Now, with oil companies returning and a new exchange framework in place, money enters mainly through transfers.
Juan’s only wish is that the money keeps flowing.
“I’m still selling plenty”
There’s been an elephant in the room since January 3rd.
The exchange rate gap was born from several factors, such as sanctions, uncertainty, and speculation. Now that sanctions are being relaxed and Venezuela is earning more foreign currency from oil exports, many thought the problem was solved.
When the government announced a $500 million cash injection into the economy in January, plenty of people claimed the gap would vanish.
Juan heard it both seriously and jokingly. His answer: “I’m still selling plenty.”
He knows the issue isn’t that simple. While the dollar has stopped devaluing as quickly and the gap has narrowed, he sees that there’s still a long way to go.
Seasonal factors come into play, too. The first quarter brings income tax payments (ISLR), which pull bolívares out of circulation. Meanwhile, new dollars arrive at day-to-day varying rates, a mix that reduces bolívar availability.
For the first time in his career, Juan has faced days when he simply runs out of bolívares.
Yet as long as political uncertainty and lack of transparency persist, none of this will really be solved.
Juan expects the gap to remain due to inflation and rising economic activity. With more bolívares circulating, pressure on the parallel market will return. It won’t be as sharp as in 2025, but it will still matter.
As several economists point out, the only lasting solution is a credible adjustment program that restores market confidence. Until that happens, Juan plans to keep working and maybe expand into areas like financial intermediation.
He’s aware of the risks, including a possible police investigation and legal fallout, but he considers them part of the deal. Profit is worth it, and for him, risk is just the shared language of doing business in Venezuela.