Month: August 2013

What would you consider training in a truly foreign country to be? One where you neither speak nor write or read the language, right? I’m not going to make you guess. If you read Part I, you know that I’m talking about Japan. The Japanese actually have three kinds of writing, but I suppose if you were fortunate enough to read one of them you could get along without too much culture shock.

This is about training in Japan. In my case I was there to train high-level executives, including CEOs of huge corporations about American culture or how to do business the American way. Had I been younger, I would have been teaching English as a native speaker to the junior and middle staff. Japanese business executives, for the most part, don’t get where they are, without learning English in school prior to our arrival. At this time, Japan was leading the way for Pacific Rim countries in trade. Although this is no longer the case, Japan is still a primary player and provides a good example to talk about for training purposes.

In Part I, I jumped ahead to some experiences in Tokyo, but here we’ll back up to the research and go from there.

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Since it would be awhile before I actually went to Japan, I did some homework. My employer stressed that I didn’t need to speak Japanese; however, I wanted to immerse myself in Japanese culture. I began by eating sushi and tried very hard to appreciate the delicate flavors. (Actors dig very deep into their roles and that’s the way I approached this fantastic foreign opportunity.) I looked at every book I could find on Japanese culture; I even read cover-to-cover James Clavell’s huge novels that embrace Japanese culture. As I self-educated myself in Japanese culture, I tried to learn some Japanese as well.

I learned some simple things, too, that every tourist should know like how to use the pay phone. (I suppose now the company would send us a phone with numbers already in the contact list. I would hope.) I learned about bowing. How to present myself. How the rank structure works. I learned that if I got into trouble–got lost, for example, find a young woman dressed in a business suit and ask her to help you. There is a good chance she will be liberated enough and savvy enough to help a foreigner out. If you read Part I, you know that this did happen and it didn’t turn out as planned. It’s funny now when I think of it, but at the time, not so much.

One of the important things I learned was that my clothing called too much attention to itself. I don’t suppose much has changed since then. The Japanese are still conservative in business dress and I still have very little in my wardrobe conservative enough. I’ll just have to tone it down. And that’s what I did then. Still in comparison, I felt garish compared to the Japanese I met with. On the other hand, the club scene and casual dress are different matters entirely.

The older we are the harder we fall. Rule number one: Culture Shock.

I was offered, by mail, my first city: Hiroshima. The hair on the back of neck rose up. All I could think about was my Air Force uniform and the atomic bomb. Then I noticed something else. My work card was filled out with the CEOs of huge Japanese corporations and banks! No, this couldn’t be! They could all speak English so what did they want of me? I was not there to teach them English, but rather American business culture. I was numb. A thought kept repeating in my head: flip it, flip flip it. What did that mean?

Don’t let the details bother you. Rule number two: Culture Shock.

When I calmed down and accepted my new role, I saw the future in training Japanese business culture to American businessmen and women. Then, I received some more mail from my new employers, this time asking my preference for a roommate and such. Also listed was a native speaker contact. I called her immediately and explained my distress. The new assignment for Nagoya came along with my Japanese work visa and a letter from the president of the company, whom I would call upon arrival.

I don’t think I would have ever felt right in Hiroshima. With that stressful item out of the scenario, I had to find something else to worry about so I began questioning my competency. (I never did that in acting; either I was cast or I wasn’t. But here I was.) What did I know about “culture?” About business? What did the Japanese want from me? Thinking about it now, the only way I could have been more qualified might have been a degree in art and music; I had the rest covered. In the Air Force, I worked with small business owners to large corporations, but I was too worried to take care of my own business at the time–acting. All I did was wait and question. I went over and over my “homework.” I needed to be prepared. Sometimes, enough is enough. Get some rest. Relax.

Sometimes it pays to be cavalier like the kid with the backpack. Rule number three: Culture Shock.

The rest of my orders came in. I was to fly to Tokyo for training before taking the superfast train to Nagoya. Sounded easy enough. I changed dollars I had saved to Yen at the bank, packed three big bags and flew Japan Airlines to Tokyo. The ten-hour flight was pleasant enough. I felt relaxed, like I had finally come to accept this new and exciting role. I was used to flying. Planes are planes. Airports are airports. We landed at Narita International Airport. The airport was familiar. The plan was to retrieve one bag and ship the rest ahead to the Nagoya office. Up ’til now everyone I met spoke some English, but the guy behind the desk did not understand what I wanted to do and I couldn’t read the paper in my hands that told him what I needed to do. After some wild gesturing, I was finally able to make him understand what I needed him to do. Should have taken more improvisational classes. Now just one bag to wrestle around and to make a phone call.

The phone call! There I was. There was the phone. Didn’t look like any of our pay phones. I was catatonic. I forgot how to use the phone… My first rescuer, a young woman, didn’t seem to speak any English at all, but saw me petrified before the phone and offered her help. At least, that’s what it seemed she was doing. As if in a trance, I handed her the letter and my change. She giggled a little at the culture-shocked American, but quickly went to business. She dialed and continually put coins in.

“Ohio, Sato-san?” Then she asked me, “You na…nama.” I told her. She spoke into the phone again, then handed it to me.

“Mr. Sato-san? This is Jack Shaw. I’m at the Airport.”

“You stay there. Someone come for you. You will know. ‘Kay?”

“Hai,” I answered proudly, but had forgotten the word for thank you.

He said a very accent-free, good-bye and hung up. I turned and looked for the young woman to thank her, but she was gone.

I never made it to Nagoya, because the company was just as happy to have me in Tokyo, although I’m not totally sure on that one. It was the same type of client base. Over-thinking? Cost some money to get my bags back. Was teased a bit for saying I prefered a female roommate (they asked) and for being culture shocked, but heard worse. One guy who never ate anywhere but Denny’s. Others who fled couldn’t take the independent nature of the job. The alone time. Meetings with execs were in the morning and evening; the day was yours to continue to be culture shocked or enjoy the adventure. The point of all this: don’t go it alone unless you’re young like the backpack kid or want lessons-learned etched in your brain about culture shock. Happy training.

For more resources about training, see the Training library.

Training in another country is not like training in Cincinnati when you live in Florida. Even when that training is simple. There are some other considerations. In the Far East, or Middle East for that matter, there may not be many signs in English or anything close to English unless it is a picture of something. If you are training, you can’t hide behind your training platform forever–especially if you are alone. Unless you speak and read the language, it’s a rough beginning especially in the Asian Pacific Rim countries. Europe and the Americas are easier even when you don’t speak the language; you can still have most of your needs met. Still sound a bit cryptic? Read on.

When I was younger, apparently not young enough (I’ll explain later), and living in Portland, Oregon, I was fascinated with the Pacific Rim countries. I was interested in Japan, which at that time was the most booming of the Pacific Rim countries; although that has since changed, Japan remains a powerful player.

I was born on the West Coast–Los Angeles, but left as a young teen and went to the Midwest. Of course, I wasn’t given a say in the matter. Later, I spent several adult years in Southern California, but most of the time the only business I was interested in was in acting or in playing on the beach. So, this story I’m about to tell you happened after I had gained tons of confidence–or to put it another way I was rather cocky with the attention I had received from doing theatre and commercial acting. Subtle differences.

My resume didn’t impress in Portland so I had to audition for an agent. I had to get new headshots, going from “open jacket, sexy” guy to “rugged, often bearded” northwestern gentleman. I swear that’s what the agent told me. Believe it or not, this is all pertinent information. Actors have to fit in differently in different parts of the country. Even within the look, there are differences. Subtle differences. In commercials shot in a two-day period, I wore rugged clothes as one might expect and carried a chainsaw in one hand; however, in the commercial the next day, I wore a tux and held a martini to my lips with one hand, sipped elegantly and spoke in clipped tones about the gin I gestured to with my other hand. During that commercial shoot, I met a fellow actor who had just come back from Japan, where he had been teaching English, and in his spare time, did a few Japanese commercials.

As if my world wasn’t complicated enough with moving to a new area, I decided at that very moment that I wanted to do that, too. One look at the newspapers told me there were a plethora of opportunities. I interviewed with three companies before I was hired by the largest English training company in Japan. The number of native speakers outnumbered the number of administrative staff and sales. As it turned out all the administrative jobs were held by women (and I don’t mean this in a negative way) who all look 13 by American standards, and it is the men who handle anything to do with money. It was a fact I didn’t see anywhere in the brochures, travel guides or other culture books I reviewed.

In any large city it’s easy to get turned around. Now imagine one where you can’t read a single sign except the foreign logos you recognize atop some skyscrapers or a Seven-Eleven, McDonalds, or KFC.

Here’s what I didn’t know, or what didn’t sink in with my research. Japan is a very conservative country. Women in most cases are still regarded subservient to men. It is not spoken about in public. It just is.

Despite being told by my hosts to ask a young woman in a business suit for assistance should I get lost or need help translating–that she would more accommodating than a businessman, I found that wisdom to be somewhat flawed. I must have been terribly scary because the young woman took off running down the street when I spoke to her. I spoke to her gently, I swear. Since I worked for a Japanese company, a small businessman’s hotel was also a good place to get information.

If you think we have a large subway system…think again. Tokyo station has 27 exits; Ikebukuro, where I stayed, has 23. I had taken the wrong exit out of the station and ended up completely on the other side of it. And, it still looked the same! This wouldn’t have bothered a 23 or 25-year-old. Life is still an adventure at that age. By the way, the Japanese businessman’s hotel desk pulled out a larger map, showed me the error of my ways, and at least got me back into the station. That’s when my head began to spin again… And it began to rain…hard rain. A good Samaritan came (I could see his halo or was that his umbrella) and asked for my map. Every foreigner has one. He led me by hand to my hotel, invited me to his Christian church, and disappeared in the mist. I’m pretty sure that really happened.

Since I was staying in bonsaied Japanese hotel, I did everything the Japanese way–everything–except when I got back to my room the first thing I did was take off a soaked shirt. A gentle rap on the door. The lady of the house or hostess appeared with a pot of tea, then furiously backed away and shook her head, gesturing to my bare chest with her eyes closed. I got it. I closed the door and put on the robe, and re-opened the door to a smiling lady who brought the tea into the room set it down and bowed on the way out. Any Seven-Eleven will show you that skin is not taboo in Japan, but apparently body hair is. Subtle differences.

Not wanting to get lost again, I bought a ham and cheese sandwich at the Seven-Eleven to take back to my room. As a Californian, I had experienced earthquakes before, but never where I couldn’t understand the news following it. It was a bit discomforting. The 23 or 25-year-old would say, “Cool.” Yeah, real cool. For once, I thought it would have been nice to know someone here and not be so independent. My confidence or cockiness was shot; I was humbled.

So, if you get anything out of Part I, take this: it is always best to share in the adventure and don’t leave a man or woman behind.

A final thought. When I started talking about getting lost, you thought I was going to talk about a sea of people or waves of people…and I didn’t. It’s because those waves didn’t involve me. From my perspective, I saw the “waves of people” being pushed on the train; I didn’t know where they were going and that “big hand” seemed bigger than “big brother” invading my personal space, too. I felt trapped. Truly trapped. Held prisoner by my ignorance.

When a foreigner walks down the street or stands in a elevator or on a train or a bus, there is space made for him or her. Foreigners like us. The Japanese are a proud people; some might call it being racist. It’s not really. In their country, they don’t see as many “foreigners” as we do in ours. They make space; it’s polite. It’s not that they hate us; they are genuinely concerned and helpful, but you need to approach the right way, the Japanese way. We expect everyone in the world to act American. Why shouldn’t they expect everyone that comes to their country not do the same? Subtle differences.

In America, we talk about safety in numbers; in Japan, it’s more a matter of comfort in numbers. Better to befuddled in a group than befuddled all by yourself. At least in a group, you can have a good laugh and go on about your business. Stay tuned for…

…another American Training in a Truly Foreign Country, Part II.

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This commentary is my opinion alone and The Free Management Library is not in anyway responsible for its content. I have written several articles of a similar nature. I tend to look at training, the workforce, business management, leadership and communication from a slightly different perspective than you might expect. I published an e-book called The Cave Man Guide to Training and Development in which I explain my reasons for looking at training and development in a different way. I look at it from the outside looking in, from the worker side, from the management side, from the trainer’s, and sometimes from the psychological side. I encourage others to talk about what they think about certain aspects of training on this website as long as they keep it generic. We’ll link to their site, and I hope you will comment here.

Take a peek at my site and you’ll find out more. By the way, I have an e-novel, Harry’s Reality, published by Amazon. It’s a scary look at what the future could be like if we stopped talking to one another and let the devices take over.

For more resources about training, see the Training library.