I Stand Corrected (24 page)

China’s talent advances up the government ladder step by step and with a long-term view. Young party leaders are expected to acquire operational experience before aspiring to political positions, and ministers are required to work in
China’s poorest provinces before being considered for higher posts within the central government.

China’s current president, Xi Jinping, is a “princeling,” the son of a senior party member. But it must be noted that Xi has risen methodically through China’s political ranks over time, serving first as the governor of Fujian Province and then as the governor and Communist Party of China chief of neighboring Zhejiang. Xi was deliberately transferred to Shanghai to become a party secretary in advance of his move to the central government, where he was groomed for several years as Hu Jintao’s successor. Having completed an arduous political process before assuming the presidential mantle he would wear for ten years, Xi Jinping might question just how much American presidents can realistically accomplish during their maximum eight-year tenures, particularly when getting reelected becomes a distraction midcourse.

America continues to argue—less and less convincingly—that a one-person, one-vote version of democracy should be the world’s role model. China has already proved that a one-party system can deliver dynamic economic growth. It seems to me that whether or not China eventually gravitates toward some incremental version of democracy, what will secure its future is its single-voiced narrative. That underlying unity has been China’s inner cohesion and explains the astonishing determination of its people.

Defining themselves in varying cycles of money and power, dynasties are the milestones of Chinese history. Since some dynasties are disputed by historians to be mythological, and others are considered sub-dynasties, it is difficult to say precisely how many dynasties China has had. General agreement puts it at no fewer than nineteen.

The history of America has yet to run the length of a single, three-hundred year Chinese dynasty, giving credence to the suggestion that China is playing chess while America plays checkers. History will remember which game is more meaningful, but history takes time.

Meanwhile, China is exporting itself in very large numbers.

W
ith the ever-increasing number of Chinese working outside of China, my editor wanted me to write a chapter on how to behave in foreign business settings.

I began with job interviews.

Etiquette is what happens when two people come into contact and interact—which has everything to do with looking for and securing a job
. Seeking employment requires you to meet people you don’t know, to communicate your skills, and to prove that you not only have the wherewithal to do the job but are also a pleasant person to be around.

Keep in mind that as soon as you open your mouth to speak, the person listening to you is subconsciously judging your ability to be understood
. There is a natural bond between what you say and how you say it. That correlation is important to keep in mind. Your voice should serve the meaning of what you are saying and the circumstances in which you are saying it. If you are being interviewed for a job, your voice should be strong (which
is not to say it should be loud) and controlled. It should be forceful on the points you wish to emphasize. If you are talking to someone who is conveying bad news, never giggle or laugh, no matter how uncomfortable or nervous you are. It is considered a rude and insensitive reaction by Westerners.

Here is some advice on how to achieve a pleasant speaking voice:

During a job interview, be sure to look the person who is interviewing you in the eye
. Do not have a frown on your face. It looks as if you are in a bad mood. Do not fold your arms tightly in front of you or turn away from the person who is speaking. Don’t fidget or continually shift positions in your chair. It looks as if you are not paying attention. Men, do not pick at your nails while listening; women, don’t study your manicure while listening. It indicates indifference. Never look at your watch, which implies you can’t wait to get away from the person who is speaking. Your last comment before ending the interview should be that you are a hard worker and a problem solver and that you work well with other people.

Just as they are not particularly comfortable with hellos, the Chinese do not partake in drawn-out good-byes. Often it has been the case that my Chinese colleagues abruptly take their leave at the end of a meal, having exchanged business cards before they were seated. I added my warning against this: “Westerners believe the handshake concluding a meeting is just as important as the one that introduced you. Do not rush away.”

Given the sometimes confusing matter of what, exactly, constitutes right and wrong behavior between men and women in Western workplaces, I thought I should include advice on those issues as well.

A woman cannot change the attitude of an obtuse man who has a preconceived notion of the opposite gender, but she
can
hold him responsible for maintaining a professional demeanor, and that is precisely what she must do
. Sexual harassment is defined in various ways, but two clear markers are conduct that creates a hostile work environment and a promotion or firing that results from an employee’s submission to or rejection of sexual advances or overtures.

Most companies are vague on the issue of personal relationships in the office
. But common sense dictates that if there is a mutual attraction, both the man and the woman should inquire if their company has a specific policy about dating superiors or subordinates. It is a slippery slope if either the man or the woman has the authority to promote or demote the other.

Just as a woman bears a burden of behavior in the workplace, so too does a man
. More than before, men are held accountable for inappropriate behavior in the office, regardless of whether a woman encourages that behavior. Men, you might keep in mind that there is a larger truth about men and women. Generally speaking, your views of
intimacy or sexuality are very different from most women’s. It is up to you to act against the moment and to remind yourself of the implications if you force your attentions on a female coworker. Err on the side of caution, and if there is any question about how to behave, head for the higher ground and look toward common sense. Both are located above your waist.

After I sent my editor the chapter, he phoned to tell me that he wanted more lessons on working outside of China. That’s what I assumed he wanted. It was difficult to tell. The day he phoned was the day he decided to practice his English.

Chinese who have studied English since elementary school can recite grammar. They have memorized the rules of conjugation. They can understand complicated written texts. What they often cannot do is assemble complete sentences that are not prefabricated.

“Your passport need copy,” was what he told me.

“Do you mean you need to copy my passport?” I asked. “Is there a problem? I’ve already given you a copy of my passport.”

“No problem.”

Then he took back some part of his answer.

“Only
small
problem,” he said.

“What kind of small problem?”

“Tomorrow go to lunch.”

“Should I worry?” I asked, but he had already hung up.

The recurring issue of my passport didn’t frighten me, but it dilated my apprehension and put me in an ongoing state of pre-fear.

“You live many places,” announced the editor as we sat down for lunch the next day. “Too many stamps on top your passport.”

I’m not sure how many places are too many, but it is true that I had lived in several other places before Beijing. Apparently, the number of them strained credibility with the Chinese authorities. On the other hand, the fact that I had successfully navigated such uncharted foreignness put me in high esteem with my editor. Having seen the French
carte de séjour
in my
passport, he wanted to hear the details of the year—many years ago—I lived in Paris, a place he had only read about.

Out of politeness, and because he was so very eager to hear about Paris, I shared what I could remember of my life there.

IN 1998, NEARLY ten years after
Buzz
was launched in L.A., the Fairchild Corporation purchased it. Despite the magazine’s sale, our household required two incomes; mine was the financial anchor. Worry about what would be next for us consumed most of my waking—and many of what should have been my sleeping—hours.

W. had a more relaxed attitude. He wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable when there appeared a deficit between life’s expenditures and its earnings. His charmed life owed a transparent debt to luck, which he was in no rush to repay. I was the reality-wedded party in our marriage. I was the one who insisted on a plan.

When all was said and done, whatever plans I’d outlined, whatever options I’d proposed for the immediate future, were not as interesting as the unscripted adventure W. presented one afternoon.

“I ran into someone I know who knows a French family that wants to spend a school year in New York,” was how it blithely began.

“Yes …?” I asked tentatively.

“They’re three of them: parents and a boy Gilliam’s age. He’d be going to the lycée.”

“And?”

“And we should consider swapping apartments with them.”

“It’s late July,” I pointed out. “School begins in another month. It’s too rushed a plan.”

“You could use the break, and this is probably the only way we could afford it. Besides, there’s no difference between the lycée program here and the one Gilly would have in Paris.”

W. had managed to back into the truth.

It turned out the French couple couldn’t swap apartments,
but they were keen to sublet ours. And because ours came fully furnished, we were in a position to charge considerably more than we were paying in rent—enough to afford an apartment in Paris, enough to supplement my much-needed sabbatical. W. would continue to draw cartoons for
The New Yorker
and write. Both could be done from Paris.

As for me, I savored the idea of an experience not yet had: staying at home. I would become fluent in French. I would discover a beautiful city. I would allow myself the time to be curious. I would be happy.

That was my plan.

It is said that if you want to make the gods laugh, tell them your plans.

No part of my plan actually happened, though it looked as if it might. We rented an apartment on the shuttered, balconied Boulevard Suchet, situated in a residential section of the Sixteenth Arrondissement called Auteuil, known for its old-fashioned elegance and reputable public school.

Gilliam was entering fifth grade, and for the first time in his life my routine was set to his day. Our morning walk to school took us through the local marketplace, where women and men alike would scrutinize tomatoes and ask detail-oriented questions about the mushrooms—a demographically equal testament to how seriously the French take their food.

On the ground floor of Gilliam’s lycée lived an elderly concierge. She kept a pair of caged parakeets in the lobby, and at precisely eight o’clock the front door was opened wide enough for her dog to rush out and relieve himself against the nearby tree. A moment later, Madame Concierge would appear to post the lunch menu and welcome the children.

Human identities are made of malleable material, and we can change according to where we are. It is especially so with children. Gilliam became French in habit almost immediately. His breakfast converted to a small baguette dunked in a bowl of hot chocolate, and he acquired the existential French shrug, conveyed with a downward mouth and the open-ended comment-without-comment
Bah, alors
.

Nothing remotely French rubbed off on me. It wasn’t given
the chance. In fact, all but one aspect of my plan for Paris disappeared after I unpacked our bags. I received a unique job offer from the Hearst Corporation a few weeks after arriving in Paris, which derailed my sabbatical. But it doesn’t take long to be happy there, and that part of my plan was what actually happened. In the limited time I was in Paris, I was happy because, quite simply, Paris is a place that delivers happiness in a way that has nothing to do with advancement and everything to do with transformation.

As impolite as the French sometimes appear, I respect them for their belief that their culture is worth constant care; I admire the curatorial devotion they have toward it; and I like the fact that they make a point of upholding high standards of comportment.

“God would be perfectly happy in France,” wrote Saul Bellow after he experienced Paris for the first time, “because he would not be troubled by prayers, observances, blessings and demands for the interpretation of difficult dietary questions. Surrounded by unbelievers He too could relax toward evening, just as thousands of Parisians do at their favorite cafes.”

The number of Chinese people who live outside mainland China surpasses the number of French people living in France. Still, it was difficult for me to imagine a Frenchman relaxing at a café conversing with someone other than another Frenchman or God, so when the editor asked for an additional lesson on business politesse outside of China, I did not place it in France. Instead, I followed China’s money to the United Arab Emirates, where some two thousand Chinese firms operate.