At some point during the blur in my memory that was 2002 and 2003, the PR agency I worked for decided it was time to become global. As is almost always the case when the PR people are at the controls, it was ridiculous. The term “global perspective” suddenly appeared in every e-mail and was dropped into nearly every conversation. The group I worked with had a number of people based in Europe – or EMEA, as it was called, because somehow Europe, the Middle East and Africa go together – so our weekly calls took place at 6 in the morning Pacific. We were lauded for “thinking global.” On the annual review paperwork, “global awareness” became something against which you were measured. And when new clients were pursued, we were all encouraged to think outside of North America and consider the client’s goals in other regions. This was key, said the PR visionaries, because technology – are you ready for this? – was knocking down geographic barriers more quickly than we could blog about it, and, well, Brussels is now practically next door. It was an exciting time, to be sure.
The most exciting part of it was when the company for which I worked decided to set up shop in Asia. The ladies – that is what we called the people in charge – were beside themselves with globalism, overjoyed at seeing the name of their company written out in Chinese figures. There were more mails, and more meetings, and more conversations, and what I learned, right before I went to Hong Kong, was this: in Asian countries, when you meet someone in a business setting, in addition to purring with orgasmic titillation over the person’s business card, the proper greeting is a bow. Before my trip, I was advised to bow to the guy who ran the agency’s office there, as well as to any clients who I may meet.
In addition to the fact that me bowing would look really stupid, I think that inserting yourself into other cultural traditions is a bit arrogant (suburban white folks, for example, speaking as if they’re Latinos at heart), so I didn’t bow then, and I am not bowing now. With that in mind, it was interesting to hear the chatter last week about the guy from Toyota going before the U.S. Congress to apologize for the mechanical issues. Will he bow? How low will his bow be? How long will it last? Unlike the PR people, the reporters took the time to explain the bowing tradition. According to them, it’s from the days of the Samurais. That’s Japanese, I believe, not Chinese, which is the country where Hong Kong is situated (technically speaking). But if you’re in PR and pretty cool, just call it APAC, which stands for Asia-Pacific, includes Australia and New Zealand and is pronounced “A-pack.” So there’s one major error. The second big one, I think, is that the bow was an apologetic gesture. People bowed before a Samurai after doing something wrong, and the longer and deeper the bow, the easier it was for the Samurai to use his sword for head-removal purposes.
But the decade-long laugh I’ve had at the expense of the PR people aside, the most interesting part about the Toyota story, I think, is the shock and surprise expressed by the professional talkers at the way business gets done in Japan. The group that regulates Toyota there, they exclaimed, is the same group that promotes the company. What a shock! What an outrage! Could it be, possibly, that mechanical problems were overlooked for the sake of profitability and reputation? Can you imagine? I mean, that’s as absurd as putting the bankers in charge of the stock market, or the housing market, or even the Federal Reserve.
The most exciting part of it was when the company for which I worked decided to set up shop in Asia. The ladies – that is what we called the people in charge – were beside themselves with globalism, overjoyed at seeing the name of their company written out in Chinese figures. There were more mails, and more meetings, and more conversations, and what I learned, right before I went to Hong Kong, was this: in Asian countries, when you meet someone in a business setting, in addition to purring with orgasmic titillation over the person’s business card, the proper greeting is a bow. Before my trip, I was advised to bow to the guy who ran the agency’s office there, as well as to any clients who I may meet.
In addition to the fact that me bowing would look really stupid, I think that inserting yourself into other cultural traditions is a bit arrogant (suburban white folks, for example, speaking as if they’re Latinos at heart), so I didn’t bow then, and I am not bowing now. With that in mind, it was interesting to hear the chatter last week about the guy from Toyota going before the U.S. Congress to apologize for the mechanical issues. Will he bow? How low will his bow be? How long will it last? Unlike the PR people, the reporters took the time to explain the bowing tradition. According to them, it’s from the days of the Samurais. That’s Japanese, I believe, not Chinese, which is the country where Hong Kong is situated (technically speaking). But if you’re in PR and pretty cool, just call it APAC, which stands for Asia-Pacific, includes Australia and New Zealand and is pronounced “A-pack.” So there’s one major error. The second big one, I think, is that the bow was an apologetic gesture. People bowed before a Samurai after doing something wrong, and the longer and deeper the bow, the easier it was for the Samurai to use his sword for head-removal purposes.
But the decade-long laugh I’ve had at the expense of the PR people aside, the most interesting part about the Toyota story, I think, is the shock and surprise expressed by the professional talkers at the way business gets done in Japan. The group that regulates Toyota there, they exclaimed, is the same group that promotes the company. What a shock! What an outrage! Could it be, possibly, that mechanical problems were overlooked for the sake of profitability and reputation? Can you imagine? I mean, that’s as absurd as putting the bankers in charge of the stock market, or the housing market, or even the Federal Reserve.
