I Stand Corrected Read online

  Phyllis opened the front door to her East Hollywood bungalow, took one look at Gilliam, and, in words textured by crushed velvet intonations, asked, “How do you do?”

  Greeted by a person whose appearance didn’t seem to rest securely in one gender, the boy quickly abandoned any attempt at a cognitive decision on which handshake to employ. Acting on instinct, he hid behind his father. That night, after considering the issue from both sides, Gilliam volunteered that, if there were to be another occasion to greet Phyllis, he would give her a slight bow, because—regardless of what gender she was—one thing was obvious: Phyllis wanted to be treated like a lady.

  PART TWO

  The All-Important Display of Deference

  Do not worry about holding a high position, worry rather about playing your proper role.

  —Confucius

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Arithmetic is on the side of China.

  The huge nation—with 20 percent of the world’s population—has an unprecedented range of overseas investments projected to be worth between $2 trillion and $3 trillion by 2020, a state-sanctioned bank that supplies over half the world’s total liquidity, and a self-appointed government that seeks access to global markets and resources.

  Chipping away at not only the edifice of America’s global dominance but also its self-belief, China’s state-owned firms have sought out iconic Western companies for direct investment, taking stakes in Greece’s largest port, Portugal’s biggest power plant, London’s Heathrow Airport, the British utility company Thames Water, and Canada’s energy giant Nexen, to name a few.

  There was a time when Westerners assumed the Chinese would convert to Western ways. But China did not become more like us, particularly in regard to business. We voice our misgivings as we count the ever-increasing dots China makes on the world map. That is no matter to China, which will ignore our moralizing about human rights while it continues to buy into Western companies, absorb Western marketing and branding know-how, locate and exploit natural resources, build other countries’ infrastructures, and make loans to the deficit-hobbled rest of the world.

  Despite China’s global importance, its domestic economic growth has not included all of its citizens equally. That can be said about most other nations, but unlike other nations, China has used its position as a world economic leader to fund the solutions to its own problems. It is doing this by identifying strategic partners in countries whose governments welcome China’s cash flow and are relieved that China is willing to stay clear of local politics.

  For good or for ill, the long-term mission of several emerging markets—Africa, for example—is being shaped by the Chinese. Chinese prisoners are sent to Africa to build infrastructure there so that China has access to the continent’s natural resources; and to grow food there, which is shipped back to China.

  Some suggest this is bound to have political side effects. Others insist it pits China’s state capitalism against fair competition. Speculation on these issues will undoubtedly continue, for it can be accurately said that any attempt to completely understand the Chinese is unlikely. “[The Chinese] are always doing something or saying something that rubs rudely against my hypothesis [of a conception of Chinese character],” wrote George Wingrove Cooke, a China correspondent for the London Times. That contentious claim was made in 1857, and there has been little breakthrough in cross-cultural understanding since. But I am unconvinced that China is fomenting a global economic conspiracy in attempting to restore the wealth and power—fuqiang—it systematically lost during the last century. China is not sighted on the world’s horizon line because it cannot afford to take its eyes off its own profound challenges. The ruling Communist Party seems to me focused primarily on staying in power, and its methods are grounded in functionality.

  Despite the speed and scale of China’s ascent, failed attempts by foreign companies to monetize China’s vast population litter its landscape, and so it is prudent for Western businesspeople to understand that there are two Chinas. China is the world’s most dynamic economy, and at the same time it is a developing country where business often veers off course. Westerners should keep their wits about them to avoid being led into a bog of murky information.

  It is not by mistake that it is difficult to parse the significance of official documents. Due diligence—standard in Western countries—is often prevented by Chinese participants with vested interests in suppressing information and the political connections to do so.

  Conducting any business in China comes with a learning tax. I paid mine by holding the dimly lit view that business in China thrives on inconsistencies. Had I seen what was squarely in front of me, I would have recognized that, in practice, consistency is reflected in the deference with which the Chinese approach everything.

  How one exchanges business cards, for example—and the deference associated with it—often affects the outcome of a business opportunity. In the East, exchanging cards is a surrogate for the Western handshake. Cards appear at every occasion—business or social—even when it is unlikely that you will ever again see the person you are meeting. China’s middle managers might be carrying several different cards for the simple reason that it is not at all unusual to hold simultaneous positions in various—and sometimes entirely unrelated—companies.

  Having conflated their personal interests with that of the state, senior Chinese executives are committed to one company at a time. They take themselves seriously and expect a show of deference from their Western counterparts, especially when introductions are made. A double-sided Western business card with simplified Chinese on one side is the first indication of respect; its conspicuous absence is not unlike refusing to shake hands at the start of a Western business meeting.

  Business cards in China are an extension of the person to whom one is being introduced, so Westerners would be wise to make sure theirs are not only immaculate but are offered in the proper fashion. It is up to the Westerner to present his card first, done with two hands—the card Chinese side up—and facing your contact so he can read it. Even if you are familiar with his title and position, deference is shown by studying the card he has ceremoniously given you and then deliberately placing it within clear sight if you are sitting around a conference table.

  Common sense dictates that under no circumstances should you clean your fingernails during a meeting, much less use someone else’s business card to do so. Unfortunately, common sense was nowhere to be found when an American colleague used the tip of a business card to dislodge what was under his thumbnail and, in so doing, derailed our chances of a successful outcome.

  In all fairness to my countrymen, I cannot claim a faultless record of behavior in China despite my many years of travel there. Cultural misunderstandings have opened up beneath me like sinkholes, and the most fundamental procedures have often resulted in my best and worst impulses overlapping. The rudimentary procedure of a business meeting can invite any number of potential mishaps in the East.

  During my meetings with Chinese book editors, the East-West gap declared itself with a matchless range of unrecognizable methods and manners. The first of those meetings was to take place over lunch. I arrived at the designated restaurant at the designated time, which was noon—precisely the time the editor phoned to ask if I was where we had agreed to meet.

  “Where the hell else would I be?” I muttered to myself after reassuring him. Of course I would wait for his arrival, I told him. Having rushed to get to the restaurant of his choosing so as not to keep him waiting, I waited the forty minutes it took for him to get there. It was enough time to realize that the Chinese way of doing things was so removed from anything I would ever understand that it hardly seemed worth the effort for me to be outraged.

  “Time is money” is the unrelenting warning from Westerners. Inconvenient as it is for them, the definition of time in China does not designate when one hour gives way to the next. Noon, which to me is as definite a time as any other, can be employed by the Chine
se as a two-hour period from 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m.

  My personal take on time is of little consequence in countries that function with a far less rigorous version of it. Since different cultures interpret time in different ways, I learned that in China it was best to set meetings in the offices of those with whom I intended to meet. My next meeting—with CITIC Publishing Group, whose parent company is China’s largest state-owned investment entity—was held in its conference room.

  In the West, it is customary to open a meeting with a relatively short introduction and to concentrate on issues that require discussion or decision. The meetings with my potential Chinese publishers evoked a séance-like feeling and were frustratingly nonparticipatory. I later realized that the staff of each had such an extreme reverence for the passively assertive director seated at the head of the table that rarely did anything actually happen. After sitting through these endless, action-deprived meetings, I couldn’t begin to guess why they resulted in enthusiastic offers from all four publishers. That didn’t prevent me from being delighted, and I chose Xiron Publishing Company, a non-state-owned but state-controlled publishing house run by young and eager managers.

  My agent secured a deal in two weeks. I was given three months to complete a guide to Western business etiquette, unaware that I was one of very few Westerners collaborating with a Chinese publisher in order to produce a book exclusively for a Chinese audience. That fact alone was enough to bring me to the attention of the government authorities, who ordered the publisher to scan my visa.

  After signing a contract written in Chinese, oblivious to government censors looking over my shoulder, I began to write the kind of book the Xiron editor told me he wanted.

  My first chapter, on Western greetings, included instructions on how to shake hands. Though Chinese businessmen do seem to be making the effort to shake hands with foreigners, they offer a weak version that Westerners insist employs too limp a grip. The fact is a limp handshake is regarded in China as an indication of respect; it can be put in perspective when one is reminded that, during imperial times, those who greeted the emperor were expected to kowtow, a gesture of humility that required them to kneel and knock their foreheads on the floor no fewer than nine times.

  Kowtowing has since been replaced by gongshou—“fist clutching”—a far less humbling ritual of respect saved for traditional festivals and wedding ceremonies, where blessings and well wishes are out in full force. Its staccato-like movements—suddenly stiffened backs and abrupt gesturing with extended elbows and shaken fists—appear to me most appropriate between men.

  With her advantage of sexual duality, Phyllis would have been better equipped to identify the gender-related issues of greetings in China. You will appreciate why I did not hold Phyllis up as an example in The Tao of Improving Your Likability. I kept my advice simple, with instructions that might just as well have been directed to Western men.

  → LESSON 1

  A woman need not stand when being introduced, unless that person is much older or she is receiving someone in her office. But a man always rises when a woman comes into the room, and he remains standing until she is seated or leaves his immediate vicinity.

  Men, your grip speaks volumes. Limp implies weakness. Too hard comes across as domineering. A medium-firm grip conveys confidence and authority. If you are sitting, stand up and smile. Looking directly at that person shows that you are focused on that one person alone. But don’t overdo it. A fixed smile makes you look insincere (because it is). Unblinking eye contact gives the impression that you are possibly dangerous. Repeat the name of the person to whom you are being introduced, as in, “How do you do, Mr. So-and-So.” Not only is it flattering, it helps you remember his name.

  → LESSON 2

  At one time or another, most of us have been introduced by a wrong name or with a misleading identification. The person being incorrectly introduced should correct the error, but in a way that does not bring awkwardness.

  Americans are often willing to forfeit manners for convenience, and—with their bone-crushingly enthusiastic handshakes—they seem to be most comfortable when they are at their least formal. In other countries, informality is not necessarily considered a virtue; indeed, it is often seen as a sign of disrespect. An analogous lesson for Westerners in China would be not to address people by their first names unless they have made a point of asking you to do so.

  I am guilty of elaborate mistakes with people’s names. Chinese names, in particular, are targets of my relentless assault, so I have learned to ask for help pronouncing them. I am also easily confused by given and family names. In Asian countries, including China, the order is reversed, with the family name first. Though more and more Chinese are using their chosen English names when dealing with Westerners, an appreciated course of action is to ask which name the person prefers.

  → LESSON 3

  Don’t worry about making mistakes when introducing one person to another. What’s important is that you make the introduction, for it is a breach of manners not to introduce two people in your presence who don’t know each other. Give both names of both people who are being introduced, regardless of their rank in a business setting. First-name introductions should occur only with children. You should always look first at the person to whom you are making the introduction, then turn to the person you are presenting. There is considerable variation in what to say when making the introduction, but the basic points are that a younger person is presented to an older person and that a man is presented to a woman, even if he is an older man and she is a young woman. Silence should not follow an introduction. An agreeable “A pleasure to meet you” will suffice.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As soon as I finished writing the first chapter of my book, it was translated into Chinese.

  The Chinese editor responded quickly in two ways: he returned my manuscript pages marked with editorial notes in Chinese, and he requested that the entirety of my passport be scanned.

  “They’ve already scanned my visa—why scan every page of my passport?” I wondered out loud.

  “That’s the way they operate,” Gilliam said.

  “Who is ‘they,’ and what could they possibly be worried about?” I asked. “It’s a book about manners.”

  “You’ll be hauled off by the authorities and never know why. Like the doomed Kafka character in The Trial,” Gilliam said in jest.

  “Well, before I’m hauled off, make yourself helpful and translate what the editor has written in his margin notes,” I told Gilliam.

  He read the editor’s notes and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “It has to do with hygiene. They want to make sure you instruct the reader to wash his hands before shaking other people’s hands so he doesn’t ‘bring his own dirt.’ ”

  After considering the editor’s request from a Chinese perspective, I realized he was absolutely right to emphasize the basics.

  To a Westerner, it would be an understatement to say men’s grooming in China appears casual. While living in Dongzhimen, I managed to acclimate to the jarring display of male nipples and bellies—a visually unpleasant result of the practice of men rolling their T-shirts above their chests to cool down—but what took its daily toll on me was the guttural sound of hawking that would precede spitting … and the profuse evidence of it on the streets. The low-water mark came, literally, in the middle of a business meeting when the man sitting next to me pulled the ashtray closer so he could spit in it—a transgression beyond all reasonable bounds that prompted me to include an emphatic “never” in my second chapter.

  → LESSON 4

  Never spit in front of a Westerner or when traveling outside of China. Wash your hair often enough to keep it from looking greasy. Take a shower daily to avoid body odor, and avoid using too much cologne or cologne that has too strong a smell.

  With further thought, I added, “Anything that requires clipping should be done in the bathroom, preferably yours.�
�� It was the same suggestion I’d made twenty years ago to a man in New York.

  “I usually do that at home, in my bathroom,” I told the man sitting next to me on the subway after he pulled something from his coat pocket, crossed one leg over his knee, removed his shoe, pulled off his sock, and proceeded to clip his toenails.

  “Give me one good reason I should, bitch,” was his very New York response.

  No woman likes to be called a bitch, despite the fact that each of us—at one time or another, in a variety of ways—has invited that accusation.

  In what was a public setting, I decided not to give the man’s name for me any obvious credence. Repressed anger curled the edges of my words, and the suggestion I offered was only slightly bitchy.

  “Well, if you look at my lap, where your toenail clippings seem to be landing, we can count the reasons together.”

  My suggestion was ignored, but remained relevant when, waiting early one morning in the Cathay Pacific lounge at the Hong Kong airport, I heard the same distinct sound of clippers at work.

  It cannot be, I told myself before turning around.

  A man in a business suit had removed his right shoe and sock to concentrate on the decidedly private task of clipping his toenails. I need not belabor my dismay, but I will take the liberty of stating that this particular lapse in judgment seems to have nothing whatsoever to do with socioeconomic differences or cultural divides. It is, instead, a gender-specific failure of comportment.

  Generalizations made by one sex about the other are almost always unfair and often wrong. But I think most would agree that, regardless of the cultural standards by which men have been brought up, they seem capable of ignoring personal hygiene when left to their own devices. That unhappy fact inevitably results in discomfort for others, especially those sharing a confined space such as an office.