Let me tell you a story that starts in a very ordinary place: my apartment building.

Recently, our building administration began discussing something that would have sounded unthinkable a year ago — letting go of three full-time security guards.

Not because the building is broke.
Not because residents demanded it.
Not because anyone wants to.

But because one number changed.

And everything tied to that number changed with it.

This isn’t about politics.
It’s not about ideology.
It’s about consequences.

And if you live abroad — or are considering it — this is exactly the kind of ripple effect you need to understand.

At the start of 2026, Colombia implemented a 23.7% increase in the national minimum wage.

To put that into perspective:

The intention?
Protect low-income workers.
Restore purchasing power.
Reduce inequality.

Those are serious goals. And they matter.

But here’s the part that most people outside Colombia don’t realize:

In Colombia, the minimum wage isn’t just a salary floor.
It’s a reference unit.

And that changes everything.

In many countries, a minimum wage increase affects a relatively small percentage of workers.

In Colombia, it’s different.

A significant portion of salaries sit at or just above the minimum wage. That means when the minimum wage moves sharply, millions of workers are directly or indirectly affected.

But it doesn’t stop there.

The minimum wage is used as an indexing tool for:

So when the minimum wage increases 23.7%, everything indexed to it increases 23.7% — immediately.

No phase-in.
No slow adjustment.
No “let’s see how this plays out.”

The math just recalculates.

Let’s bring it back to my building.

Administration fees here aren’t profit. They cover:

In other words: people.

Many of those contracts are written as “X number of minimum wages per worker.” So when the minimum wage rises, the contract doesn’t renegotiate — it recalculates.

And security in many Colombian buildings represents 40% to 50% (or more) of the entire administration budget.

So when that line item jumps nearly 24%, the whole budget jumps.

Even if:

The math changed.

Buildings now face three options:

There is no magical fourth option.

And that’s where automation enters the room.

In my building, those guards know the residents.
They know the kids.
They know who belongs and who doesn’t.

Replacing them with cameras and key fobs isn’t a “tech upgrade.”

It’s a cost decision.

When labor costs spike suddenly, uncomfortable questions get asked:

No one celebrates that conversation.

But numbers force it.

From the outside, an administration fee increase sounds like an inconvenience.

In reality, it can be decisive.

You can’t cancel administration fees.
You can’t downgrade them.
You can’t skip a month.

If you live there, you pay.

The first people hit aren’t the wealthiest residents.

It’s:

From a distance, it might sound small:
“It’s just a few hundred thousand pesos more.”

But real budgets don’t have a line item labeled “surprise policy adjustments.”

One increase is manageable.
Two starts to hurt.
Three forces a decision.

And that decision often happens quietly — at the kitchen table.

Should we move?
Can we still afford this?
What if it rises again next year?

No protests.
No headlines.
Just math.

Now zoom out from apartment buildings.

Small businesses across Colombia are facing the exact same recalculation.

For them, payroll isn’t just salary.

It’s:

So when the minimum wage jumps 23.7%, the real cost per employee jumps even more.

Small businesses don’t have corporate buffers. They don’t have venture capital padding.

They calculate.

And their options look familiar:

It doesn’t always show up as dramatic layoffs.

More often it looks like:

“We won’t hire that extra person.”
“We’ll close one extra day.”
“We’ll handle it ourselves.”

Quiet adjustment.
Very visible to families.

There’s another uncomfortable reality.

When legal employment becomes too expensive too quickly, some businesses feel pushed toward informal arrangements.

Cash payments.
No EPS.
No pension contributions.
No vacation pay.

That’s not anti-worker rhetoric.

That’s pro-worker reality.

Because a job that moves into the shadows offers short-term income — but long-term vulnerability.

And economists, banks, business groups, and even labor advocates are discussing the same thing right now:

Not whether helping workers is good.

But how fast is too fast when so much of the system is tied to one lever.

Across financial institutions and economic analysts, one theme keeps repeating:

Second-order effects.

When labor costs rise quickly:

Colombia has a high concentration of jobs at or just above minimum wage. That means the minimum wage isn’t just a floor — it’s a structural anchor.

When it moves sharply, housing costs, service contracts, and employment costs move with it.

That’s not ideology.

That’s structure.

Large, sudden policy changes tend to do one thing quickly:

They reveal pressure points.

This increase revealed them almost immediately:

Policy feedback matters.

Governments — regardless of political leaning — respond to what happens next.

The real questions moving forward aren’t:

Will wages rise again?

But rather:

Because the real challenge isn’t helping workers.

It’s helping them without eliminating jobs.

If you’re living in Colombia — or planning to — this matters.

Not because it’s political.

But because it affects:

If you’re an expat, you may not earn minimum wage.

But you live inside the system tied to it.

And when one lever moves, everything connected to it moves too.

Understanding those linkages is part of living abroad responsibly.

This isn’t about whether wages should rise.

It’s about how interconnected systems respond when they do.

In my building, the conversation is still ongoing:

People vs. cameras.
Fees vs. affordability.
Security vs. sustainability.

Real decisions.
Real time.
Real consequences.

And that’s the kind of nuance that rarely makes it into headlines.