I Stand Corrected (6 page)

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Kowtowing has since been replaced by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.

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.

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.

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.

A
s 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.

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.

WITH VARIOUS ISSUES of personal hygiene put to rest in the second chapter of my book, it seemed logical that the third chapter should cover the topics of posture and clothes. I considered what my mother might have advised, for despite the fact that she was mentally ill, my mother was often right. She believed that when personal appearances were left unattended, they had an ill-fated habit of moving perception to unattractive reality.

“What do you intend to wear?” had been her only question when I was unexpectedly subpoenaed by the Federal District Court in Manhattan on a troubling professional matter.

I tried explaining the grave situation.

“I’ve spent the entire weekend reading legal briefs,” I told her. “What I wear to court can’t possibly matter.”

“It matters a great deal,” she said. “First impressions set the tone, so I suggest a simple ensemble in brown—it’s a serious color but not severe. And, dear, please take this in the spirit in which it’s given: your height sometimes makes it look as if you’re looming. Adding gratuitous inches with high heels will only make matters worse. Be sure to wear flats.”

Chinese women have experienced as many dramatic changes in fashion as China has experienced changes in its culture. Until the early twentieth century, when the painful practice of binding the feet of young girls in China came to an end, wealthy husbands displayed their wives’ tiny shoes as a sign of proud possession. Social class and custom determined women’s outward presentation before the 1950s. In the 1960s, “Mao green” clothing became the norm. Subdued blue and gray were allowed a uniformed appearance in the 1970s. Women remained androgynously indistinguishable from men until the 1980s, when they were granted options of what to do for a living.

Observations from living in Beijing were that mainland Chinese women dress predominantly in copies of Hong Kong fashions, some more successfully realized than others; that bright colors are preferred; and that hair—that disproportionately important issue with women, no matter their nationality or age—has managed to express individual style statements in the way it is cut, colored, or permed.

The decree of fashion is almost always arbitrary, but—like a self-fulfilling prophecy—good or bad posture creates the impression you leave with others, and so my lesson on advisable attire for Chinese businesswomen began with the subject of posture.

Standing up straight makes you appear more confident
. If you put your shoulders back while walking and
standing, you will give the illusion of being taller and slimmer. Conversely, if you slouch, you tend to look older, discouraged, and tired. When you sit in a chair, don’t fall into it; lower yourself gently. When seated, don’t slump. You seem smarter and more alert if you sit up straight.

Clothing should fit properly
. Keep jewelry to a minimum. Avoid earrings and bracelets that dangle: both are more appropriate after business hours. Handbags and tote bags should be clean and should complement your outfit. Shoes can be comfortable but should not have worn-down heels or scuffed tips and should be polished. Hands and nails must be well taken care of—no chipped polish—and when wearing open-toe shoes, you should have pedicures frequently. No visible lingerie; no snags or runs in your stockings. Use as little makeup as possible. Finally, your hair should never get in the way.

Hair seems to have been a flash point in my business life. At one time, my hair was an abundant mass of Pre-Raphaelite waves that distracted male colleagues, including the man to whom I reported at Hearst. After managing eye contact during my first debriefing, he turned around and walked into the wall. That incident convinced me to wear my hair pulled back at work.

Hair is but one example of the self-restraint required by business. Indeed, a Confucian approach is just as relevant in the West as it is in the East: regardless of gender, dressing appropriately in the office means toning down one’s individual look out of regard for others.

For men, conservatively cut dark suits (gray, brown, or navy blue) are best for the office
. Wear pale shirts and inconspicuous neckties and socks. Make sure your shirttail is not out and there are no stains on your tie. Polish your
shoes and press your clothes each day. Baseball caps are not appropriate attire in a business setting. Leave the backpack at home. Do not wear sunglasses indoors.

My friends from L.A. are different from those in other places. They wear sunglasses indoors. Most of them are in the entertainment industry, and so they have more disposable income and are better-looking than the rest of us. When I was exchanging plans for the holidays with a group of them over dinner, I mentioned that Gilliam—thirteen at the time—wanted a cloak as a Christmas present.

“Where the hell did he get that idea?” asked one in the group.

“Probably from reading too much Sherlock Holmes,” was my guess.

“A cloak has style,” said another in the group, an artist. “Not everyone could pull it off. It shows confidence.”

“He’ll be ridiculed by his classmates,” said the man’s wife, a well-known performer. She was quick to point out that, like her daughter, Gilliam was an only child who had grown up surrounded with adults. It was crucial that he learn to live among those in his age group, she said. Better he not call too much attention to his unconventional tendencies.

The woman urging me to remain sartorially on message was someone I knew from the years I lived in L.A., but not for the reason she was known to the public … until that fall, when I saw her sitting on a crescent moon lowered onto a Broadway stage in New York.