Love to Dan & Donna
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
For Eileen
They even have Hello Kitty subway cars. Interestlying, this was in Hong Kong when I'd expect it to be in Tokyo.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
What a Difference A Day Makes
I simply cannot wrap my brain around the contrast I am experiencing between Delhi and Tokyo.
I left our Indian headquarters, looking back on a shockingly real, yet really amazing time. Over dinner, my coworker confessed that she and her husband separated six months ago and she hadn't told a soul at the office for fear of being chastised. It's no wonder my sexuality isn't going over so well with my Indian expats at the HK office. My empathy was rewarded by a promise of a home-cooked meal the next time I am in town. Something I fully plan to take advantage of.
Transitioning away from the power going out every hour or so, to hearing phrases such as "your mini bar is complimentary, Sir" I find myself warmly sliding into my FREE gin-and-tonic fuzz ready to head home tomorrow. Sorry I'm not writing more, but the Harry Potter finale kept me awake on the plane.
I left our Indian headquarters, looking back on a shockingly real, yet really amazing time. Over dinner, my coworker confessed that she and her husband separated six months ago and she hadn't told a soul at the office for fear of being chastised. It's no wonder my sexuality isn't going over so well with my Indian expats at the HK office. My empathy was rewarded by a promise of a home-cooked meal the next time I am in town. Something I fully plan to take advantage of.
Transitioning away from the power going out every hour or so, to hearing phrases such as "your mini bar is complimentary, Sir" I find myself warmly sliding into my FREE gin-and-tonic fuzz ready to head home tomorrow. Sorry I'm not writing more, but the Harry Potter finale kept me awake on the plane.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Delhi Belly
I think I might be sick.
I woke up very early yesterday, but wasn't hungry. I usually wake up starving to begin with, and for all my stomach knew it was nearly noon Hong Kong time. I forced myself to go down and have a small breakfast then rushed to the office. I worked straight through and skipped lunch as well. I felt okay, but kept thinking this can't be a good sign.
After a full day at the office, my coworker was kind enough to drive me to one one of the nicest Indian restaurants here in Delhi. She has my affliction of a lacking sense of direction, so we got somewhat lost on the way (I would generally be of no help, even less so in a foreign country).
When we finally made it there, the food was quite good. Garlic naan with some kind of chicken kaaba and some lentil-gravy-type sauce. I tried for the life of me to memorize the names, but one Cosmopolitan erased all record of the menu (yes, they laughed when I ordered it). It was served traditionally, meaning no utensils. So I ate with my hands and wiped them frequently on the gigantic-sized bib I was provided. In the end, we got little finger bowls with lemon wedges (it takes the grease and the smell away), and desert was a combination of some minty-tasting seeds, ground coconut and sugar crystals that you scoop into your hand and ate like Pop Rocks. She drove me back to the hotel (got lost again) and I was greeted to a live piano performance in the lobby. I briefly thought about having a cocktail at the bar (simply trying to kill whatever is apparently living in my stomach), but then realized the song he was playing was "Heart and Soul." You know the song ... the one everyone who has sat in front of a piano knows how to play. Assuming "Chopsticks" was next on the melodic agenda, I though my time better spent tearing through another chapter of Harry Potter.
This morning - still no appetite. Small breakfast, a precautionary Imodium, and a little prayer that my flight to Tokyo tonight isn't going to require frequent trips to the lavatory. I find myself mentally crossing sushi off the menu when I get there -- sadly.
I woke up very early yesterday, but wasn't hungry. I usually wake up starving to begin with, and for all my stomach knew it was nearly noon Hong Kong time. I forced myself to go down and have a small breakfast then rushed to the office. I worked straight through and skipped lunch as well. I felt okay, but kept thinking this can't be a good sign.
After a full day at the office, my coworker was kind enough to drive me to one one of the nicest Indian restaurants here in Delhi. She has my affliction of a lacking sense of direction, so we got somewhat lost on the way (I would generally be of no help, even less so in a foreign country).
When we finally made it there, the food was quite good. Garlic naan with some kind of chicken kaaba and some lentil-gravy-type sauce. I tried for the life of me to memorize the names, but one Cosmopolitan erased all record of the menu (yes, they laughed when I ordered it). It was served traditionally, meaning no utensils. So I ate with my hands and wiped them frequently on the gigantic-sized bib I was provided. In the end, we got little finger bowls with lemon wedges (it takes the grease and the smell away), and desert was a combination of some minty-tasting seeds, ground coconut and sugar crystals that you scoop into your hand and ate like Pop Rocks. She drove me back to the hotel (got lost again) and I was greeted to a live piano performance in the lobby. I briefly thought about having a cocktail at the bar (simply trying to kill whatever is apparently living in my stomach), but then realized the song he was playing was "Heart and Soul." You know the song ... the one everyone who has sat in front of a piano knows how to play. Assuming "Chopsticks" was next on the melodic agenda, I though my time better spent tearing through another chapter of Harry Potter.
This morning - still no appetite. Small breakfast, a precautionary Imodium, and a little prayer that my flight to Tokyo tonight isn't going to require frequent trips to the lavatory. I find myself mentally crossing sushi off the menu when I get there -- sadly.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
No Pets --- NO EXCEPTIONS
Anyone see a problem with our ad for the house when it comes to the pet clause?
Monday, July 23, 2007
Holy Cow - literally
I don't even know where to begin. I am so tired this will likely be short, but I just had to write a quick note.
I flew into New Delhi on Sunday by way of Bangkok. I actually almost missed my connecting because I was so engrossed in Harry Potter -- I lost track of time. How embarrassing would that have been?
Delhi is ... indescribable. I think it's good that I adjusted to Hong Kong before setting foot in India because my head may have exploded. I probably would have turned right around and demanded to get right back on the plane. I have never experienced anything like this in my life. It begins with an interesting smell ... not in a good way, necessarily. You get used to it. It's hot and crowded. Crowded like I never knew existed.
The most amazing activity is driving. I was text messaging AC like a madman in the cab on the way to the hotel. There are lines on the road, but I think they were invisible to most of the drivers. You drive wherever the f*ck you feel like. Or if you want to walk, then walk -- right in the road along with the sea of drivers. There are people driving in on scooters, with their wife, fully decked out in her sari, sitting side-saddle on the back with no helmet. I will admit it's organized chaos, but I would rather drive in HK blindfolded than drive here. I can't even begin to describe it.
On the way there, we almost hit a cow. They also wander the roads. They are worshipped in the Hindu religion, but don't seem to be really cared for otherwise. I also had little kids knocking on the cab windows begging for money. My driver commented "Awww - kids" as he sped off with the five-year-old's face still pressed against my window. We passed entire mini-cities of what I can only describe as hovels. I have never seen such poverty -- and something tells me I'm actually in a somewhat affluent area. Rickshaws, motorized rickshaws, scooters, and nothing I rode in had seat belts. And the honking. I sit here typing, hearing nothing by car horns honking out my window. It's like the sound of the ocean; constant yet not as relaxing.
You have to see it to believe it. Not my video, but this is exactly what it is like. I am reserving judgement, but overall I feel so thankful for what I have.
I flew into New Delhi on Sunday by way of Bangkok. I actually almost missed my connecting because I was so engrossed in Harry Potter -- I lost track of time. How embarrassing would that have been?
Delhi is ... indescribable. I think it's good that I adjusted to Hong Kong before setting foot in India because my head may have exploded. I probably would have turned right around and demanded to get right back on the plane. I have never experienced anything like this in my life. It begins with an interesting smell ... not in a good way, necessarily. You get used to it. It's hot and crowded. Crowded like I never knew existed.
The most amazing activity is driving. I was text messaging AC like a madman in the cab on the way to the hotel. There are lines on the road, but I think they were invisible to most of the drivers. You drive wherever the f*ck you feel like. Or if you want to walk, then walk -- right in the road along with the sea of drivers. There are people driving in on scooters, with their wife, fully decked out in her sari, sitting side-saddle on the back with no helmet. I will admit it's organized chaos, but I would rather drive in HK blindfolded than drive here. I can't even begin to describe it.
On the way there, we almost hit a cow. They also wander the roads. They are worshipped in the Hindu religion, but don't seem to be really cared for otherwise. I also had little kids knocking on the cab windows begging for money. My driver commented "Awww - kids" as he sped off with the five-year-old's face still pressed against my window. We passed entire mini-cities of what I can only describe as hovels. I have never seen such poverty -- and something tells me I'm actually in a somewhat affluent area. Rickshaws, motorized rickshaws, scooters, and nothing I rode in had seat belts. And the honking. I sit here typing, hearing nothing by car horns honking out my window. It's like the sound of the ocean; constant yet not as relaxing.
You have to see it to believe it. Not my video, but this is exactly what it is like. I am reserving judgement, but overall I feel so thankful for what I have.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Radioactive Sushi
I very often have to run websites through some type of web-based translator to figure out what exactly I am looking at.
Today, I was trying to figure out how the job application process worked in our Korean office. I ran our company site through Google's translator and began to struggle my way through. While you commonly get far-from-perfect translations, this one gave particularly funny results.
Talented man civil official .... the Career Section of the site?
Employment Process ... no need for further explanation on this one
Employment Notification ... think I got this one too!
From joining a company support drawing up ... uhm, I think this is where you apply for the job?
Passing self-illuminating sliced raw fish ... hmm, whatever this is, it doesn't sound fun. I think I'll avoid clicking on this link.
I am craving sushi now, however.
Today, I was trying to figure out how the job application process worked in our Korean office. I ran our company site through Google's translator and began to struggle my way through. While you commonly get far-from-perfect translations, this one gave particularly funny results.
Talented man civil official .... the Career Section of the site?
Employment Process ... no need for further explanation on this one
Employment Notification ... think I got this one too!
From joining a company support drawing up ... uhm, I think this is where you apply for the job?
Passing self-illuminating sliced raw fish ... hmm, whatever this is, it doesn't sound fun. I think I'll avoid clicking on this link.
I am craving sushi now, however.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
I have a Chinese name!
My ABC friend (American-born Chinese -- which I think is actually intended as an insult) told me that it would be a good sign if my coworkers gave me a Chinese name. I arrived at work today to find a little sign on my door that read:
側田
( Jut tin )
Apparently it's the name of another ABC person named Justin Lo who is an NY-born singer that is quite popular here in HK. I amazed my coworkers because I actually already knew who he was we discussed all the rumors that he wears hats because he is really bald. He's kinda cute for a filthy stinkin' ABC ... (just kidding -- I've only adopted the local prejudice against the Chinese mainlanders, but not the foreign born ones ... yet).
Things are improving -- gradually. They're also trying to teach me how to say "have you eaten breakfast yet?" but it's incredibly hard to say.
Is it que or queue?
Monday night was interesting. One of our VPs is retiring and moving back to the US. The management team in my office decided to throw him an impromptu going-away dinner at a restaurant called Aqua on the Kowloon side. Now I don't normally go over to Kowloon -- I equate it with the SF Eastbay. I'm not sure if that's entirely fair, but who moves to Manhattan and hangs out in Jersey? Maybe some people ... but not me.
Well, if this place is any example of what Kowloon has to offer, I am dead wrong! Probably the best thing was the view. It was like none other. Our table was in a private room fully surrounded by glass with a huge centerpiece of roses and candles. The food was ... Italian and Japanese. Weird combo, but it was good. I tried to be Mr. Cool and pick out the wine (not remembering that I can't do this effectively in SF and it's right next to the wine capital of the US!). My more-experienced VP quickly took over the role and ordered a 1997 vintage Italian wine. I can't even get myself to type the price, especially since we drank five bottles.
After dinner, I truly wanted to just go home. Not wanting to sacrifice the face time, however, I opted to join them at Felix in The Peninsula Hotel. The Peninsula is probably the most famous hotel in HK (mostly for me, since it's prominently featured in the Bourne series), and mostly known for its English afternoon tea. Felix was a somewhat-cool bar, but it was packed with ugly tourists in shorts. I was still feeling fabulous from Aqua, so I decided to classy up the place by ordering martinis. My coworkers were amazed when I drank two martinis and was still sober (small martinis and huge dinner -- I'm no Houdini, just 1/2 Irish and very practiced). After hanging out there for a few hours, we decided to go home. (Favorite comment from this part of the night: "Oh yes, I love San Francisco. It's so peaceful and quiet there, I can see moving there to retire!")
Most of us live in Pacific Place, so we all got in the same cab and headed back to HK Island. And here was my mistake. The two top guys are good friends, pretty drunk, and won't see each other ever again. And I'm in a cab with them headed to two different places -- allegedly. A private conversation broke out between them and before I knew it, the destination had changed to someone's house to play pool. I was trapped. So the cab ride took about 30 minutes straight up to the top of The Peak. (Favorite comment from this part of the trip: "Aren't you glad I gave you my Lexus? The 8 cylinder engine makes it up the hill so much easier than this cab!) The place was a total bachelor pad, with the exception of an immaculately refurbished antique pool table as the prominent centerpiece. The same piece of furniture became a source of major stress for the owner, as one of our party members was FOB Chinese and had never seen a pool table in her life. The end of her que more often found the felt than the ball, leaving the whole room cringing with every shot. (Favorite last quote of the night: "I no good with all these balls! (insert Asian-style giggle).
We got out of there at 1:00 and got home around 1:30. I actually made it to the office for my early meetings the next day in fantastic shape. The big boss stopped by my office to compliment my ability to hold my booze. And I think I just figured out how to get things done at the HK office.
Well, if this place is any example of what Kowloon has to offer, I am dead wrong! Probably the best thing was the view. It was like none other. Our table was in a private room fully surrounded by glass with a huge centerpiece of roses and candles. The food was ... Italian and Japanese. Weird combo, but it was good. I tried to be Mr. Cool and pick out the wine (not remembering that I can't do this effectively in SF and it's right next to the wine capital of the US!). My more-experienced VP quickly took over the role and ordered a 1997 vintage Italian wine. I can't even get myself to type the price, especially since we drank five bottles.
After dinner, I truly wanted to just go home. Not wanting to sacrifice the face time, however, I opted to join them at Felix in The Peninsula Hotel. The Peninsula is probably the most famous hotel in HK (mostly for me, since it's prominently featured in the Bourne series), and mostly known for its English afternoon tea. Felix was a somewhat-cool bar, but it was packed with ugly tourists in shorts. I was still feeling fabulous from Aqua, so I decided to classy up the place by ordering martinis. My coworkers were amazed when I drank two martinis and was still sober (small martinis and huge dinner -- I'm no Houdini, just 1/2 Irish and very practiced). After hanging out there for a few hours, we decided to go home. (Favorite comment from this part of the night: "Oh yes, I love San Francisco. It's so peaceful and quiet there, I can see moving there to retire!")
Most of us live in Pacific Place, so we all got in the same cab and headed back to HK Island. And here was my mistake. The two top guys are good friends, pretty drunk, and won't see each other ever again. And I'm in a cab with them headed to two different places -- allegedly. A private conversation broke out between them and before I knew it, the destination had changed to someone's house to play pool. I was trapped. So the cab ride took about 30 minutes straight up to the top of The Peak. (Favorite comment from this part of the trip: "Aren't you glad I gave you my Lexus? The 8 cylinder engine makes it up the hill so much easier than this cab!) The place was a total bachelor pad, with the exception of an immaculately refurbished antique pool table as the prominent centerpiece. The same piece of furniture became a source of major stress for the owner, as one of our party members was FOB Chinese and had never seen a pool table in her life. The end of her que more often found the felt than the ball, leaving the whole room cringing with every shot. (Favorite last quote of the night: "I no good with all these balls! (insert Asian-style giggle).
We got out of there at 1:00 and got home around 1:30. I actually made it to the office for my early meetings the next day in fantastic shape. The big boss stopped by my office to compliment my ability to hold my booze. And I think I just figured out how to get things done at the HK office.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Hairy Affair
I woke up this morning and realized that it was that time of the month for me. As I sleepily looked into the mirror, I couldn't help but notice the TWA (teeny weenie afro) growing on the top of my head. I really wanted to get my hair cut in SF one last time before I left, but there was just no way to fit it in.
I briefly thought about going to a fancy salon (they probably have one in the hotel that is in my building), but the allure of getting my haircut for less than 10 bucks overtook me. I trudged down to Wan Chai to try yet another venue.
Being a create of habit, I found myself at the exact place that AC forced me to go last time. Not wanting to be a fool twice in a row, I opted for the place next door. As I climbed the stairs, I noticed many hand-painted signs for the Goodwill store on the top floor. Characters from The Simpsons greeted me one after another, showing me the way to basement bargains at the top of the stairs. I can't imagine what kind of stuff they sell there, given that this section of Wan Chai is completely filled with crap-quality factory seconds that come directly from China. But at least they're not used ...
Were it not for the overwhelming smell of perming solution, I might have erroneously ended up at Goodwill, but the trail of hair led me to the correct location. I was quickly escorted over to the hair washing station decorated with a "Meet Joe Black" poster that had seen better days. I will say getting a scalp massage while looking at Brad Pitt wasn't half bad. She must have thought I was particularly dirty, because she washed my hair three times. It was an interesting combination of head massage and hair-pulling -- a mix of pleasure and pain that I would expect at some S&M establishment in San Francisco.
My "stylist" was a guy. Interestingly, I haven't had my hair cut by a woman the whole time I've been here. After carefully explaining what I wanted (since it's hot as hell, I'm willingly opting to be bald now), I checked out the scenery in the mirror. The ceiling was like the sky -- bright blue with clouds. To my right was something I never figured out what it was. It hung from the ceiling, was round, and had all kinds of black cords and plugs in it. It looked more like a torture device than anything (maybe this S&M thing was no accident!).
After covering my body with three aprons, I began to sweat like a pig. I have no idea why they gave me so many layers, but that shit does not breathe. Sweat started to roll down my forehead and combine with my freshly-cut hair to form a wolf-manish coating all over my face.
Seeing what a mess I was, they took me back to wash me again. I had to gingerly step through a group of people sitting on the stairs eating their lunch. I wonder how much of my hair fell into their cup-o-noodles. I didn't sit quite right in the chair, so my hair washer friend kindly pulled me into position by my ears.
Getting my hair cut has become quite an adventure. Give me a month or so, and I'll have a new non-hygienic adventure to share!
I briefly thought about going to a fancy salon (they probably have one in the hotel that is in my building), but the allure of getting my haircut for less than 10 bucks overtook me. I trudged down to Wan Chai to try yet another venue.
Being a create of habit, I found myself at the exact place that AC forced me to go last time. Not wanting to be a fool twice in a row, I opted for the place next door. As I climbed the stairs, I noticed many hand-painted signs for the Goodwill store on the top floor. Characters from The Simpsons greeted me one after another, showing me the way to basement bargains at the top of the stairs. I can't imagine what kind of stuff they sell there, given that this section of Wan Chai is completely filled with crap-quality factory seconds that come directly from China. But at least they're not used ...
Were it not for the overwhelming smell of perming solution, I might have erroneously ended up at Goodwill, but the trail of hair led me to the correct location. I was quickly escorted over to the hair washing station decorated with a "Meet Joe Black" poster that had seen better days. I will say getting a scalp massage while looking at Brad Pitt wasn't half bad. She must have thought I was particularly dirty, because she washed my hair three times. It was an interesting combination of head massage and hair-pulling -- a mix of pleasure and pain that I would expect at some S&M establishment in San Francisco.
My "stylist" was a guy. Interestingly, I haven't had my hair cut by a woman the whole time I've been here. After carefully explaining what I wanted (since it's hot as hell, I'm willingly opting to be bald now), I checked out the scenery in the mirror. The ceiling was like the sky -- bright blue with clouds. To my right was something I never figured out what it was. It hung from the ceiling, was round, and had all kinds of black cords and plugs in it. It looked more like a torture device than anything (maybe this S&M thing was no accident!).
After covering my body with three aprons, I began to sweat like a pig. I have no idea why they gave me so many layers, but that shit does not breathe. Sweat started to roll down my forehead and combine with my freshly-cut hair to form a wolf-manish coating all over my face.
Seeing what a mess I was, they took me back to wash me again. I had to gingerly step through a group of people sitting on the stairs eating their lunch. I wonder how much of my hair fell into their cup-o-noodles. I didn't sit quite right in the chair, so my hair washer friend kindly pulled me into position by my ears.
Getting my hair cut has become quite an adventure. Give me a month or so, and I'll have a new non-hygienic adventure to share!
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Letters from Iwo Jima (or Wan Chai ...)
I have been really wanting to write as of late, but have found myself with absolutely no time! So I'm making the unwise decision to take time out of my workday to jot down some thoughts in my head. Let's hope no one from the office is reading this ...
While I will go back and retroactively talk about my quick month in North America, I thought I'd write a little about my cultural training I took last Friday. Cultural training is a required element of my assignment, designed to assist with my integration into the local population. Many of you commented on some of the weird stuff that has happened here at the office, and while I still feel powerless against it, I at least feel like I understand it a little better. My thoughts can best be summarized in this faux letter written to me from my co-workers.
Dear AJ-
Thanks for coming to our office to help us out with all the work that has been piling up. We're happy you're here, however, we have a few items we'd like to make clear to you:
1. We don't trust you.
You're not a bad guy, but you have to realize that relationships take a long time to develop here. Heck, we're a culture that is thousands of years old. By comparison, you and your people are infants. Go suck on this teething ring, please.
2. We don't want to be your friend.
You get too friendly too easily, and it makes us nervous. We'll treat you to lunches for your first week, then you're on your own. Your definition of "friend" and ours is totally different. We met our friends when we were two years old and have seen each other daily since then. We could ask a friend for an unlimited amount of money and never expect to pay it back. We could commit murder in front of a friend and they'd do whatever they could to cover it up. You're a nice person, but if you're not going to help us get away with murder, then we're not "friends." Plus, we know you're only here for a few years. You're too much of a short-term investment.
3. We're more traditional than we think.
We in Hong Kong like to think we're closer to the west than China, culturally speaking. In reality, we're closer to the middle than we'd like to admit. We're very cosmopolitan, until you try to give us a clock as a gift or order an unlucky number of dim sum dishes -- then we get all spooky on your ass. And we're not all that down with the 'gay' thing. A few of us asked too many personal questions -- and now that we know we avoid you like you have SARS. No offense, right?
4. We're about results - not process!
We know you're trying to make order out of our crazy office, but we don't want it that way. We just want to get to the end as quickly as possible. We like to cut corners and rush through details just to get to the end goal. We're going to fight you tooth and nail if you ask us to do anything that takes up more time. Be prepared.
5. You're taking our money.
We're very financially motivated. We'll tend to marry as a financial investment first, love a distant second. You make more than us and you get to live in a fat apartment. We hate that. We don't see your value and would rather use that money ourselves for other stuff.
We realize we've made some broad generalizations about ourselves, but we want you to understand where we're coming from. Try to enjoy yourself here, but realize you're always going to be at the fringe of our society. Rather than trying to go native, please realize there are lots of expats out there in the same situation. Spit out that darn teething ring and go make some friends! You can give each other clocks as gifts and order weird numbers of dim sum dishes with abandon. Just as long as we're not around ...
All the Best,
The HK Office
While I will go back and retroactively talk about my quick month in North America, I thought I'd write a little about my cultural training I took last Friday. Cultural training is a required element of my assignment, designed to assist with my integration into the local population. Many of you commented on some of the weird stuff that has happened here at the office, and while I still feel powerless against it, I at least feel like I understand it a little better. My thoughts can best be summarized in this faux letter written to me from my co-workers.
Dear AJ-
Thanks for coming to our office to help us out with all the work that has been piling up. We're happy you're here, however, we have a few items we'd like to make clear to you:
1. We don't trust you.
You're not a bad guy, but you have to realize that relationships take a long time to develop here. Heck, we're a culture that is thousands of years old. By comparison, you and your people are infants. Go suck on this teething ring, please.
2. We don't want to be your friend.
You get too friendly too easily, and it makes us nervous. We'll treat you to lunches for your first week, then you're on your own. Your definition of "friend" and ours is totally different. We met our friends when we were two years old and have seen each other daily since then. We could ask a friend for an unlimited amount of money and never expect to pay it back. We could commit murder in front of a friend and they'd do whatever they could to cover it up. You're a nice person, but if you're not going to help us get away with murder, then we're not "friends." Plus, we know you're only here for a few years. You're too much of a short-term investment.
3. We're more traditional than we think.
We in Hong Kong like to think we're closer to the west than China, culturally speaking. In reality, we're closer to the middle than we'd like to admit. We're very cosmopolitan, until you try to give us a clock as a gift or order an unlucky number of dim sum dishes -- then we get all spooky on your ass. And we're not all that down with the 'gay' thing. A few of us asked too many personal questions -- and now that we know we avoid you like you have SARS. No offense, right?
4. We're about results - not process!
We know you're trying to make order out of our crazy office, but we don't want it that way. We just want to get to the end as quickly as possible. We like to cut corners and rush through details just to get to the end goal. We're going to fight you tooth and nail if you ask us to do anything that takes up more time. Be prepared.
5. You're taking our money.
We're very financially motivated. We'll tend to marry as a financial investment first, love a distant second. You make more than us and you get to live in a fat apartment. We hate that. We don't see your value and would rather use that money ourselves for other stuff.
We realize we've made some broad generalizations about ourselves, but we want you to understand where we're coming from. Try to enjoy yourself here, but realize you're always going to be at the fringe of our society. Rather than trying to go native, please realize there are lots of expats out there in the same situation. Spit out that darn teething ring and go make some friends! You can give each other clocks as gifts and order weird numbers of dim sum dishes with abandon. Just as long as we're not around ...
All the Best,
The HK Office
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