Back in China

I returned to China about three weeks ago and got the cast off this past weekend. My wrist is pretty stiff and doesn't have a lot of range of motion yet, but I'm seeing some progress since the weekend. The doctor did not even want to give me anything to wrap it with, but agreed to put on an Ace bandage, which I wear during the day. (It is a good thing I got him to do it, because I haven't seen wrist supports anywhere in Shanghai, even though I'm guessing most of them are made here). On Saturday I am supposed to have a physical therapy session, though I've mostly figured out what to do on my own. No lifting or strenuous activity with the wrist for at least two weeks, though I should be able to swim pretty soon when the stiffness goes down a bit more.

In the meantime, I moved to a service apartment in the Hongqiao area, which is where a lot of expats live. This place is convenient to the work locations I need to go to as well as to the domestic airport, which is only about 10 minutes away. It's been nice to have a kitchen and take advantage of some of the produce that China has to offer--last night I had several kinds of mushrooms sauteed in garlic, olive oil and wine, and tonight stir-fried some greens. There is a special washing solution you can get to rinse everything, but it all tasted quite good and very fresh.

Hillary, the Pope, and me

I haven't blogged since before I broke my wrist in Shanghai on July 25. I was walking in a semi-construction area (which actually describes half the city--there are cranes everywhere), and tripped and fell, putting my left hand out to brace the fall (the medical term for this is FOOSH--fall on outstretched hand). In doing so, I joined thousands of people of boomers (Hillary) and elderly (the Pope) who have broken a wrist or elbow in a similar fall. It was an unstable break, and, nearly three weeks later, I still don't know if I will need surgery. I have learned how to do a lot with only one hand---it's amazing the things you can do with a knee, elbow, or chin. I can type nearly as fast now with one hand as with two.

Meantime, I came back to Detroit to get it looked after, in case it displaced again and required surgery (plates and screws). The doctor in Shanghai did a pretty good job of setting it, but people were amazed to see an old-fashioned plaster cast. Last week the doctor here changed the cast to fiberglass, and it felt like a real load had been taken off---plaster is HEAVY.

I spent some time at the office here, and got to meet some of the people I had mainly known through email and phone conversations. Enjoyed seeing all the cars cruising around in anticipation of the dream cruise, which was this weekend. Tomorrow I see the doctor again, and hoping I will be cleared to travel back to China.

Coda to the Story--Quality Fade

So quality fade is not only about products, but services, too. Gradually, over the last six weeks, the breakfast buffet at my hotel has undergone a slow but serious degradation: cheese reduced from a nice assortment including brie, Swiss, etc. to only plastic wrapped Cheez-whiz; no more wheat and multi-grain, only white bread, four kinds of cereal reduced to three, no butter unless you ask---then comes after toast finished, etc. Then, suddenly---it all goes back to the way it was....and throw in some lox to boot---suggesting that the quality inspectors from corporate have swooped in. I won't be here all that much longer to see the slide again, but it's probably inevitable....

Poorly Made in China

I've been reading a very interesting book: Poorly Made in China, by Paul Midler. It reads almost like a novel, but sadly, it isn't. It's about the difficult relationship between importers--mostly Americans--and manufacturers in China, with all the ways that the Chinese manufacturers manipulate and control the relationship, not to mention the quality of products. Midler talks about "quality fade", a deliberate and incremental degradation of quality and manufacturing standards in order for the Chinese side to cut costs and increase their profits, as well as counterfeiting--making extra production runs to sell proprietary products in a gray market. The Mattel and milk scandals are only two more well known examples---Midler's cases and his research imply that the practices are widespread.

Midler is a fluent Chinese speaker with a Wharton MBA who has acted as a consultant to various importers, ranging from a personal care products importer to a diamond merchant. Like his clients, he often finds himself victim of the manufacturers' practices---at one point, insisting on a refilling of bottles of body wash that had been shorted the requisite 850 millileters, he found himself having to walk back to his hotel because the factory owner, "Sister", was angry with him for insisting on the re-do and wouldn't provide a ride. The importer, known only as "Bernie", constantly finds himself at a disadvantage as "Sister", who speaks very little English except "price go up!" manipulates both his temper and the business. "Sister" is also constantly engaging in "quality fade", with both the packaging and the formulas. At one point, some shampoo turns to jelly and she wants to ship it anyway, and in another, she gradually reduces the thickness of plastic containers to the point that they start to have leakage problems in shipping. Near the end, Bernie comes up with his own "gotcha" moment, but you have the sense that ultimately, Sister--despite little business training and no English--is going to cut him out of the middle one day and go direct to his customers. In fact, one of the main messages of this book is the way in which the importers are totally beholden to the manufacturers. Even when Bernie tries to go around Sister and find another supplier, she finds out about it almost immediately since the suppliers in this business all know each other and do not let foreigners play divide and conquer.

Midler himself, despite being a long time resident and Mandarin speaker, does not ever really seem to help his clients beat the Chinese manufacturers at their own games--he is taken advantage of almost as often as his clients. Even Bernie's "gotcha" moment is something that Bernie himself seems to have thought up. Or perhaps Midler is too clever to take the credit, since he wants to continue to be a bridge with Chinese companies? Hard to say. LIke him, though, I find myself thinking twice everytime I pick up a consumable product made here. You just don't know if "Sister" might be the factory owner....

Persistence

I have been in China about two and a half months and starting to dig a little deeper into how things work---or don't. In terms of human resources, there are a number of similarities to India, but I have drawn the tentative conclusion that these are more due to the dynamic nature of these markets and the immaturity of the respective workforces, than to purely cultural similarities. Yesterday I had lunch with another HR person whose company has significant operations in Beijing, and she told me it is not uncommon for young people in the capital to suddenly quit a job even with no alternative lined up--similar to what you find in the BPO industry in India. Usually these employees live with Mom and Dad and work is more like a pastime than a necessity, so their attitude toward it is casual. Not to mention that they can easily go out and get another position--maybe one where the cafeteria food is better. If China and India are similar in this respect, it's probably more due to a shared problem of over-indulgent parenting.

One thing I have noticed that has a definite cultural backdrop is a striking lack of persistence. In China, people try things once (and sometimes not at all), and if it doesn't work the first time, they tend to give up rather than try again or use a different approach. For example, they will look for what is wrong in a piece of machinery (or a toilet), but rather than try to understand the root cause, they simply patch it over or respond "huai le" (it's broken). If logistics don't appear to be working out or someone says "no" , they take this as the end of the story, and it's "mei banfa" (there's no way, it can't be helped). Needless to say, this drives a lot of Westerners bonkers. We're all about "ownership" of problems even if we didn't create them, and "drive for results."

I have not been here long enough to get below the surface to understand the mentality that produces this behavior, but I suspect it is combination of education (emphasis on rote learning rather than problem solving) and differing assumptions about the value and/or risk of associating oneself with a problem or a solution.

Problem solving, when it does happen, can be eclectic, and not necessarily logical. This morning I was fascinated to watch an employee in the dining room of my hotel spend several minutes trying to adjust the milk dispenser so that it would let out the last cup of milk, rather than simply go back to the kitchen and get more. Which, of course, he had to do less than five minutes later when someone came along and drained the dispenser which did not contain even a full glass...... .

"We take what's dished out"

"We take what's dished out."  This is a phrase my dad started saying fairly late in life.  He used it to describe what was happening to him, to my mother and to their health, and the slow but inexorable closing in of life as they both became less able to control the events swirling around them: his first surgery for an aortic aneurysm in his 80s, my mother's decline and admission to a nursing home, his own bodily and mental malfunctions.  He didn't mean it to sound passive.  Rather, he meant that we must find ways to cope with the things life throws at us. 

Three  things juxtaposed themselves oddly this weekend in a way that brought this phrase back to me.   Father's Day, of course---my first without Dad, and Marty far away in America.  A note back from an old friend, who I'd written to congratulate on his 75th birthday, sharing the news that his wife was undergoing the final in a series of chemo treatments for a particularly difficult form of cancer--- "and now we see."    And finally, the discovery that a small jewelry box, containing some  necklaces and a ring that I had given my mother for gifts including  her own 75th birthday, has evidently been stolen sometime in the last couple of weeks.  It might have happened in any of  a number of places--from the airport or airlines to one of the hotels I've stayed in here or in Korea.  Impossible to say.  

Of course my first reaction was a sense of violation, anger at myself for being careless perhaps---and dismay.  Some of the pieces were valuable, but more in the sentimental sense than what it would cost to replace them.  The ring, in particular, I wore often and it gave me a sense of closeness to my mother.  Then I thought of my friend, struggling with the life threatening illness of his spouse, and it put things in more perspective.  After all, it was a ring, not a life.  

In Vipassana, you hear over and over again---and try to absorb--that all things are impermanent. Over a few hours, I began to tell myself a story of the ring and the other jewelry--whether true or not, it really doesn't matter.  These things had a value to me that was mostly sentimental, fending off the sense of impermanence that ultimately dooms us all.  I don't know anything about the person or persons who took the box, or their motives.  I can only hope they really needed the money that these pieces brought them.  I hope that the jewelry paid a doctor for the care of an elderly parent, or tuition for a student, or rent for a down and out relative.  In any event, I must face that they have now passed from my possession as surely as they did from my mother's when she died.  It helps to think they are doing some worldly good.   But even if not--there is the odd comfort of hearing my father's voice:  "we take what's  dished out." 

Shanghai Museum

Marty was here for about ten days.  We didn't go far from Shanghai, but did take in Hangzhou and Suzhou, and while I was working during the day he did some Shanghai tours.  Thanks to him, I now know some new places in this highly charged city.  

One of Marty's tours included a short stop at the Shanghai Museum.  There was no way he could do the place justice in 45 minutes, so last weekend we went back.  The ceramics exhibit was astounding.  I've seen Chinese ceramics before, but not this  number and variety.