End of my fifth week in my new job at an engineering company in Xian, and the end of a slightly slow week. I haven't been given much to do at all, so spent the best part of the week farting about on the internet and chatting on QQ. Today was a little bit more interesting.
Mrs Boss (head of HR, wife of Big Boss) seems concerned about my health, and on hearing I had a migraine earlier in the week, recommended I do 'eye exercises' that all school kids do. (Should be able to post a video of it next week.) It involves rubbing the acupuncture areas around the eyes in various ways to relieve stress, etc. I'm a fraction cynical about it (no surprise there), but everyone is convinced that it is beneficial. I asked why most people wore glasses, and they said because, being forced, they never did the exercises properly.
In the afternoon, the tax inspectors were coming round to check the books (and to enjoy a free large lunch with free alcohol), so they put me in the HR office, which contains the HR boss (big boss' wife) and two or three other members of staff, including a manager. I spent most of the time chatting with the other two, and even Mrs Boss when she came back. Even the manager spent most of her time chatting to me or on QQ. Finally they gave me something to do - translation of electrical engineering theory. They also shared their snacks with me, including something that looked like a twig and smelled like a school physics lab.
The last hour of the week I try and teach English to the translators. I'm going to be avoiding anything to do with China or the cultural differences in the future, as any perceived slight against their motherland is pounced on. I was saying how some Westerners have trouble crossing the road (true) or don't look after their valuables properly when taking the bus (also true). This was interpreted as yet another Westerner attacking and mis-understanding China. The whole patriotism and 'victim-complex', while understandable, gets tiring after a while. One girl spoke fluently about the Terracotta Warriors, but was a direct translation of the guff they learn in school - 'It shows the wisdom and intelligence of the Chinese people, many foreigners like to admire the greatness of our First Emperor', etc,etc.
I think they also might be pissed off I get paid (a lot) more than them, which is true and also pretty unfair. The communication between them and their managers is pretty terrible, there seems to be a lot of bad feeling between them. Mrs Boss thinks they are inexperienced and don't understand the ways of the world, they think they are lied to (which would not surprise me), underpaid and disregarded. I think somewhere in the middle is true, legitimate complaints all round. I have to find a way to steer through it, stay as friendly as I can, which being the foreigner makes it extra interesting. I also said no to Mrss Boss' request that I take part in her daughter's cosplay performance (cosplay being something from Japan where you dress up as computer game characters). No doubt I've caused her to lose face, as well as hurting the feelings of all of China, but I've been to a cosplay thing before, and prancing around as some wizard from the year 3000 with my boss' daughter is not my idea of a fun weekend.
Friday, 21 November 2008
Thursday, 20 November 2008
The boss breaks down
Things afoot in the danwei. Last Friday, the day before the boss came back from Indonesia, one of the managers quit. He was responsible for finding pretty much all the overseas business, so there was an unpleasant feeling going round in the afternoon. Also, two other senior staff decided they have had enough, so left too.
The big boss, Mr ***, a stocky and capable lookng man, called everyone into the meeting room on Monday. There he explained what he thought went wrong, and apologised for not communicating enough with his senior staff. At one point he even started crying. I asked my colleague next to me what was wrong with him by way of a passed note, to which he replied 'prentend [sic] to be kindhearted'. Afterwards, everyone had nothing but scorn for his 'crocodile tears', claiming he is stingy and a good actor. Certainly, I try staying out of his way. I feel like I'm the pet favourite of his boss and his wife, which is not great - they are noticeable a lot nicer to me than everyone else, not least in terms of renumeration. So I have to perform a delicate balancing act. I do this primarily be keeping my mouth shut.
They both went out off on business again this week, so the last few days have been even slower than usual. I have some ideas I want to do to help the translators improve their English, but as mentioned in a previous post, I feel it's probably wiser to keep my head down, shut up, and keep talking chatting on the QQ.
The big boss, Mr ***, a stocky and capable lookng man, called everyone into the meeting room on Monday. There he explained what he thought went wrong, and apologised for not communicating enough with his senior staff. At one point he even started crying. I asked my colleague next to me what was wrong with him by way of a passed note, to which he replied 'prentend [sic] to be kindhearted'. Afterwards, everyone had nothing but scorn for his 'crocodile tears', claiming he is stingy and a good actor. Certainly, I try staying out of his way. I feel like I'm the pet favourite of his boss and his wife, which is not great - they are noticeable a lot nicer to me than everyone else, not least in terms of renumeration. So I have to perform a delicate balancing act. I do this primarily be keeping my mouth shut.
They both went out off on business again this week, so the last few days have been even slower than usual. I have some ideas I want to do to help the translators improve their English, but as mentioned in a previous post, I feel it's probably wiser to keep my head down, shut up, and keep talking chatting on the QQ.
More from the danwei
I'm currently at my computer in the office. I have almost nothing to do. I learnt a sentence in Chinese yesterday - 抢打出头鸟，the gun shoots the bird who pops his head up. This was said by a colleague in response to my suggestion that I ask someone to give me some translation to do. I was working on the idea that doing nothing is not the most optimal of my faculties, and that doing translation is something I actually want to do. I don't think he really understood that. I get the impression the ideal working day for a typical low-level office worker in China is to have nothing to do, leaving them free to chat on QQ (chinese msn) all day, with an occassional break for sleeping. I also get the feeling that using initiative is seen as the equivalent of veering off course, so better to sit down and shut up, just follow the middle way.
This might have something to do with something I noticed recently. People like to call other stupid. In schools, you won't get a huge amount of encouragement for doing something different or positive, but if you get something wrong you'll get shouted out and called 'stupid' - 笨 ben, as well as losing face in front of your 60 other classmates. In fact, in the local paper this morning there was an article about how a teacher hit a 7 year old kid for getting a maths question wrong, damaging his kidneys (although I imagine this is an isolated incident). I remember once last year I was on the campus at university studying, and at the table was a mother teaching her young son English. Not once did I hear any words of encouragement, only a shrill 'ben!' everytime he got his fifteen and fifty mixed up. Chinese girls also find it amusing to call their boyfriends 'ben'.
So maybe me asking for something to do is just plain 'ben'.
This might have something to do with something I noticed recently. People like to call other stupid. In schools, you won't get a huge amount of encouragement for doing something different or positive, but if you get something wrong you'll get shouted out and called 'stupid' - 笨 ben, as well as losing face in front of your 60 other classmates. In fact, in the local paper this morning there was an article about how a teacher hit a 7 year old kid for getting a maths question wrong, damaging his kidneys (although I imagine this is an isolated incident). I remember once last year I was on the campus at university studying, and at the table was a mother teaching her young son English. Not once did I hear any words of encouragement, only a shrill 'ben!' everytime he got his fifteen and fifty mixed up. Chinese girls also find it amusing to call their boyfriends 'ben'.
So maybe me asking for something to do is just plain 'ben'.
Week 5 in the danwei
At the end of week three, I accompanied three engineers and two other new recruits from our company to visit the largest power station in this province, three hours northwest of Xian. The purpose was to gain a better understanding of the processes involved in running the power plant, so as to help with the work we do in the office.
The thing that struck me the most was the relatively fresh air (the power station was in the country), and the irony or having to go a coal-burning, four unit (i.e., very big) power station to get some fresh air. The morning was spent wondering round, looking at all the stuff. I asked a few questions, but eiher didn't understand or couldn't here the answers. Inside was a mass of pipes leading all over the place, completely unintelligable to me. Our guide didn't seem to fussed about what we did, so we spent most of the time touching and pressing things we probably shouldn't do, and of course, taking a load of photos.
We took lunch across the road in a small countryside restaurant, although regrettably baijiu (chinese white wine, similar to airline fuel) was considered unwise. After lunch, nobody really seemed to know what to do. We got passed around from one department to the next, where eventually they found someone to lead us on what turned out to be the exact same route as the morning visit. We went into the control room of the each of the units, something like a watered down version of Mission Control. Behind the 2 control desks was another desk where Party officials sat around drinking tea making sure no-one gets upto any funny business.
In the car park of the company hotel waiting to leave, we saw a wedding stumbling out after an afternoon's festivities. The power plant is a self-contained unit, with living, education and recreational facilities for all the thousands of staff. Although the sign on the main gate is that of a pivate company, its definitely a state-owned company, so has many of the characteristics of the the old 'danwei'. I'm sure some people have spent their whole lives living inside the unit, using the hotel for special occasions when needed.
Aside from a load of photos of unidentifiable pieces of equipment and the other staff making 'V' signs, and a free dinner, I'm not sure how much knowledge was garnered. Still, another interesting look at something different.
The thing that struck me the most was the relatively fresh air (the power station was in the country), and the irony or having to go a coal-burning, four unit (i.e., very big) power station to get some fresh air. The morning was spent wondering round, looking at all the stuff. I asked a few questions, but eiher didn't understand or couldn't here the answers. Inside was a mass of pipes leading all over the place, completely unintelligable to me. Our guide didn't seem to fussed about what we did, so we spent most of the time touching and pressing things we probably shouldn't do, and of course, taking a load of photos.
We took lunch across the road in a small countryside restaurant, although regrettably baijiu (chinese white wine, similar to airline fuel) was considered unwise. After lunch, nobody really seemed to know what to do. We got passed around from one department to the next, where eventually they found someone to lead us on what turned out to be the exact same route as the morning visit. We went into the control room of the each of the units, something like a watered down version of Mission Control. Behind the 2 control desks was another desk where Party officials sat around drinking tea making sure no-one gets upto any funny business.
In the car park of the company hotel waiting to leave, we saw a wedding stumbling out after an afternoon's festivities. The power plant is a self-contained unit, with living, education and recreational facilities for all the thousands of staff. Although the sign on the main gate is that of a pivate company, its definitely a state-owned company, so has many of the characteristics of the the old 'danwei'. I'm sure some people have spent their whole lives living inside the unit, using the hotel for special occasions when needed.
Aside from a load of photos of unidentifiable pieces of equipment and the other staff making 'V' signs, and a free dinner, I'm not sure how much knowledge was garnered. Still, another interesting look at something different.
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Week 3 in the danwei
Week 2 ended in rather unspectacular fashion, Friday afternoons drag as much as they do here as in any other office, particularly when I've been used to having Friday afternoons off. And even dress down Friday has been made redundant by a manage decision to allow staff to where casual clothes to work (due to the office being too cold).
On Monday I awoke to find that thing on my leg had turned into a nasty boil (the second in two months). When my boss saw, she immediately took me to Xian's premier skin hospital, despite my protestations. A kind act indeed, although the hospital merely confirmed that it is best not to get ill in China. There was literally rubbish everywhere, the smell from the toilets wafted the corridors, and the huge numbers of people, most of them the 'bu wen ming' (uncivilised) people from the countryside, made for chaos and mayhem. MRSA for all.
The doctor's office was a room with a table with more crap on it, and him sitting behind with 2 assistants, and a melee of people wafting the ticket around trying to get 'served'. Whoever shouted loudest generally got seen, although this meant that he was seeing several people at once. He took a brief look at my leg - maximum 1.6 seconds - and decided instantly what it was and what medicine I needed. When I showed him the marks on my face and the scar from the last one, he prescribed some more medicine. My attempts to find out what actually caused it came to nothing, and things like asking me questions, blood tests, and frankly general hygiene were considered unnecessary. In fact, he said showering too much (once a day) was a problem.
On visiting a Chinese hospital as an outpatient, you first have to 'gua hao', or register, where everyone pays a flat small fee. You then join the melee waiting to get seen. I suggest not going after 11am or 4pm, because once they've shut down for lunch and the end of the day, there is no way of getting seen. Ever. The doctor then prescribes the medicine, you go and get a bill for it, you take the bill to the doctor (or thrust it in his general direction is also acceptable), then go and pick up the medicine (my company picked up the tab). It's suggested that you buy the medicine outside if you can because it's more expensive than pharmacies. In fact, most adverts on local TV are for hospitals. While I appreciate the huge challenges that government faces here in providing medical services, unimaginable to those well-served and numerically small Scandanavians, the government has apparently chosen not to divert significant amounts of new found wealth into public services.
Which brings me nicely onto my next beef (being coked up on various medicines that you don't know is contained within is not good for one's mood) - the buses. Again, way too many people in this country (Greater Xian has a population twice that of New Zealand, this province has a population similar to that of Britain, and does not make it into the top 10 of China's most populous provinces). I know I bang on about population, but it's so true. Every single person in China I've met has told me there are too many people here. There's no discussion, its a fact, and I think it is. There is something very unnatural about so many people squigged into buses, high rise buildings and shopping centres.
In fact, I'll have to write a special on the buses another time. And take some pictures.
As an aside, when I was having lunch on the way back with my boss, a middle-aged woman of significant poise and demeanour despite, or perhaps because of, a short stature, happened to tell me about the Cultural Revolution. She said when her brother was at schoolin the mid 1960s, the students used to climb up onto the roof, throw off the tiles, smash a hole in the roof and throw rubble at the teachers. In between doing no study and abusing teachers and other intellectuals ('Old Stinking Ninths'), students learnt the entire collection of Mao Zedong sayings off by heart, which she can still reel off today. And her husband changed his surname to avoid being sent to the countryside for labour education. The gap between then and now is one of the most interesting aspects of modern Chinese society, which again, more will be written about at a later date.
On Monday I awoke to find that thing on my leg had turned into a nasty boil (the second in two months). When my boss saw, she immediately took me to Xian's premier skin hospital, despite my protestations. A kind act indeed, although the hospital merely confirmed that it is best not to get ill in China. There was literally rubbish everywhere, the smell from the toilets wafted the corridors, and the huge numbers of people, most of them the 'bu wen ming' (uncivilised) people from the countryside, made for chaos and mayhem. MRSA for all.
The doctor's office was a room with a table with more crap on it, and him sitting behind with 2 assistants, and a melee of people wafting the ticket around trying to get 'served'. Whoever shouted loudest generally got seen, although this meant that he was seeing several people at once. He took a brief look at my leg - maximum 1.6 seconds - and decided instantly what it was and what medicine I needed. When I showed him the marks on my face and the scar from the last one, he prescribed some more medicine. My attempts to find out what actually caused it came to nothing, and things like asking me questions, blood tests, and frankly general hygiene were considered unnecessary. In fact, he said showering too much (once a day) was a problem.
On visiting a Chinese hospital as an outpatient, you first have to 'gua hao', or register, where everyone pays a flat small fee. You then join the melee waiting to get seen. I suggest not going after 11am or 4pm, because once they've shut down for lunch and the end of the day, there is no way of getting seen. Ever. The doctor then prescribes the medicine, you go and get a bill for it, you take the bill to the doctor (or thrust it in his general direction is also acceptable), then go and pick up the medicine (my company picked up the tab). It's suggested that you buy the medicine outside if you can because it's more expensive than pharmacies. In fact, most adverts on local TV are for hospitals. While I appreciate the huge challenges that government faces here in providing medical services, unimaginable to those well-served and numerically small Scandanavians, the government has apparently chosen not to divert significant amounts of new found wealth into public services.
Which brings me nicely onto my next beef (being coked up on various medicines that you don't know is contained within is not good for one's mood) - the buses. Again, way too many people in this country (Greater Xian has a population twice that of New Zealand, this province has a population similar to that of Britain, and does not make it into the top 10 of China's most populous provinces). I know I bang on about population, but it's so true. Every single person in China I've met has told me there are too many people here. There's no discussion, its a fact, and I think it is. There is something very unnatural about so many people squigged into buses, high rise buildings and shopping centres.
In fact, I'll have to write a special on the buses another time. And take some pictures.
As an aside, when I was having lunch on the way back with my boss, a middle-aged woman of significant poise and demeanour despite, or perhaps because of, a short stature, happened to tell me about the Cultural Revolution. She said when her brother was at schoolin the mid 1960s, the students used to climb up onto the roof, throw off the tiles, smash a hole in the roof and throw rubble at the teachers. In between doing no study and abusing teachers and other intellectuals ('Old Stinking Ninths'), students learnt the entire collection of Mao Zedong sayings off by heart, which she can still reel off today. And her husband changed his surname to avoid being sent to the countryside for labour education. The gap between then and now is one of the most interesting aspects of modern Chinese society, which again, more will be written about at a later date.
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