An inability to predict has been with us since the start. You might say it began for our two-man team the moment a Californian and a German were paired on a project in China; any meaningful link between Hauenstein and Germany was lost several generations ago. This was illustrated as we waited for our invitation letter from our client, which we needed in order to apply for a visa. We were by far the last team to receive an invitation letter, and Tom was getting nervous. At this stage I hadn’t even started thinking about applying for the visa.
The prediction challenge became more acute when our “statement of work” arrived. Tom organized a conference call with me.
“What does this mean?”
“I think they just want us to talk about some MBA cases. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m very concerned.”
Monday’s initial meeting with the client helped to clear things up. They didn’t know what they wanted, either. But they had an idea: “Maybe you can talk about compensation structures and employee welfare in the US and Germany for the class on the 16th?” There were only a few problems with this plan. Tom and I knew little about the subject. We had less than a week to prepare. The presentation would take place on a Monday.
And the audience would be 200-300 people.
At 1:30 pm on Monday the 16th, Tom and I donned our suit coats and jeans and met in the lobby for our ride to campus. Our clients were a professor, Pau, and a senior student, Jack, who was to accompany us to the University for our 2:30 presentation. The clocked moved slowly but steadily. 1:35. 1:40. 1:45. It was a warm day in Shijiazhuang. Jack had previously explained that Shijiazhuang has only two seasons, winter and summer. Today was summer, and the 80+ degree weather combined with the unfamiliarity I felt waiting for others was causing me to sweat in my wool coat. Where was Jack?
Tom chose this moment to explain that Jack had emailed him separately to say that he would pick us up at 2:00. How had these guys figured me out so quickly? Resigned to the fact, I sat down on the couch and continued to sweat.
Soon Tom was sweating, too; once Jack arrived he insisted that we wait until 2:10 to leave. The driver then proceeded to drive at an unsafely slow speed down the highway to the University. Bicycles were honking and passing us. Something was going on here.
At 2:40 pm, Tom and I walked through the door of the lecture hall and were greeted with an enthusiastic burst of applause from approximately 250 students, about 75% of whom were female. There was a huge hand-drawn sign in the audience welcoming us. I felt like Justin Bieber, or whoever the latest teen heartthrob may be.
Mickey is suitably impressed
We proceeded to present our material for over two hours. They asked us to slow down, then to speed up, then to slow down again. But the overall comprehension was high, as evidenced by the tough questions they asked during Q&A. After dancing around a particularly controversial question regarding unions, Tom and I were invited to have a seat. Now the students would like to present to us.
Manager Tom captivates the audience
What followed absolutely blew me away. It began with two female students giving us a brief history of Chinese dress. A male student emerged from the back of class wearing a Mao suit, to uproarious laughter and applause from the audience. The fashion show continued until the next item on the agenda: Beijing opera. At this point a young girl came to the front of the room and began to sing. She sang in front of 250 of her peers and two foreigners who all day had been treated like royalty. Tom and I thought if we were nervous, what must this girl be going through? She pulled it off without a hitch.
Next up, another female student kicked off a video highlighting various spectacular sites around China. The first was Yellow Mountain, and as I turned to Pau to say, “My wife was there yesterday,” a plate of dumplings and sweet rice arrived in front of me. I picked up the chopsticks, and to the amazement of the crowd, deftly popped a dumpling into my mouth. A rousing ovation followed. I then began to unwrap the rice.
As I did, it began to hit me. All of this was for “Manager Tom” and me. Pau said he didn’t give the students any guidance or help. They came to him and said they’d like to do something special for their guests. The amount of effort that had gone into this day was staggering, and I felt like I had moved into an even higher realm than Bieber given the royal treatment I was receiving. I sat back with a dopey grin on my face and just took it all in.
I was snapped out of my trance by a girl ordering me up front to speak Chinese and then do Tai Chi. Now the students would get their chance to laugh at us, and I gave them a head start courtesy of a napkin that had stuck firmly to the sweet rice residue on both hands, forming some sort of rudimentary Chinese handcuffs. More and more demonstrations of Chinese culture kept coming at us until finally, out came the nunchucks. Two girls flipped and kicked the nunchucks around in an impressive display. This was not a skill possessed by girls where I went to college. The day was capped off by two male students writing up some calligraphy on a scroll. Tom’s was a Chinese poem and mine read, “Beautiful River and Mountain.” I will most certainly find a place to hang it at home.
He didn't have to worry about us catching mistakes
I applied to the Corporate Service Corps because I expected it would be an utterly unique and fulfilling experience. That’s one prediction I got right. But the reception we received, the effort the students made, and the reaction from the client were beyond any expectations. As Tom and I departed the stage upon completing our presentation, Pau slapped me on the back and said, “Perfect.” I couldn’t have described the day any better myself.
-DAN
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