What's in a name?

My first business dealings with a Japanese company occurred almost 20 years ago. The meeting was at the New York office of a large Japanese trading firm. The gentlemen I was meeting had lived in the US for a couple years so he spoke passable English (unfortunately the opposite is rarely true for Americans living in Japan but that is another topic). He introduced himself using his real name and then quickly followed up by saying “but call me Tom or ‘TT’ ”. His first name in Japanese was Toshiya. His last name – Taniguchi. At that time I knew nothing about Japanese culture beyond what I had looked up in the library – yes, the library as this was in the “pre-internet” era. Handling business cards with two hands was about the sum total of my knowledge of Japanese business culture.

I became friends with Taniguchi san but I never called him Tom or TT. Although I quickly concluded that many Japanese dealing with foreigners took English names to make communication easier for themselves and those they were meeting with, I just didn’t like the idea of using “adopted” names. I thought I should show my customers from across the Pacific the respect of properly pronouncing and remembering their names.

My colleagues in the US never hesitated to use the English names and often wondered why I stubbornly insisted on using Japanese family names with “san” appended. My answer was always quite simple – “I prefer to use their real name”. It just seemed like the polite thing to do. 

On one occasion after dinner (and a few beers) a colleague from a trading company asked me “why don’t you call me Mike?” I responded, “Hasegawa san when you start calling me ‘Kentaro’, I will call you Mike". He looked surprised, “why would I call you Kentaro?” I told him it was my Japanese name. He said, “but Joe-san, you don’t have a Japanese name” and then he smiled: “ok – I understand”.

For better or for worse my refusal to use English names in Japan continues to this day. I tried the same approach when we moved to China and had to abandon it almost immediately. As in most cases, Japan and China are 不同 (different).

I spent quite a bit of time in China before we moved there but I did not fully appreciate the Middle Kingdom’s relationship with English until we settled into our new life in Shanghai.

Learning Chinese is a challenge, using English names made life easier

Most of the young Chinese I met never even referenced their Chinese name. My first office in China was a serviced office used by many foreign companies with limited staff. Included was a part time assistant. She introduced herself as “Jenny” which in 2005 was an extremely popular name. I think there were more "Jennys" in Shanghai than in the western hemisphere. During my first week in the office, Jenny told me that a representative of Citibank Private Banking wanted to meet me. I said it was fine and within minutes, a well-dressed, earnest looking young man was at my door. “Good afternoon, my name is Bear”.

I managed to choke back a giggle and offered Bear some tea. I moved to China before banking rules were relaxed so Bear’s pitch was a little weak: “if you deposit USD 50,000 we will not charge you to keep it” he told me with a straight face. He added, “of course there are some rules about how you get the money back out”. Bear had only taken one sip of his oolong tea when I told him that his offer did not sound like a good deal to me. I added that if he was going to remain in the financial services industry perhaps a name change was in order. I suggested he re-name himself “Bull” and the meeting was over.

Later that afternoon, the building manager came in to introduce herself. “Hello I am ‘Pony’; it is nice to meet you”.  Again I managed not to laugh but wondered to myself if the entire animal kingdom was going to show up before the end of the week.

We stayed at the Ritz Carlton while we waited for our household goods to arrive from Japan. Unfortunately the shipment was delayed so after a week we moved to a guest house closer to our home and daughter’s school.  Upon our arrival we were greeted by a young women named “Disney” and were soon introduced to “Belle”. I wondered aloud if Mickey and Gaston were going to help with our bags.

After a couple weeks, I realized that I was remembering all these unique names without a problem. Maybe the young Chinese were onto something.

I began to hire a local staff. First was Oliver who was followed by Sabrina. By then I had totally bought into this English name idea.  Later, my local staff included:  Wilder, Cory, James and Irene.  

I spent the most time with my driver Philip.  Philip was not his first English name. He told me that he used to be called "DVD".  I replied that Philip was a much better choice. As Philip and I got to know each other, I learned of his love for American movies and TV shows.

After several months of commuting conversations, one day on the ride home Philip asked me to do him a favor. “Sir, I want a new name.” I responded: “Philip is a great name and it suits you.” “Sir you know I watch a lot of movies – nobody in the movies is ever named Philip”.  If Philip was a good name it would be in the movies”.  We drove on. Since the IPhone was not invented yet, I couldn’t quickly check the internet for movie characters named Philip so I told him anybody could pick a movie name like “Rocky” but his name was better because it was “not a copy”. “Besides to the family you ARE Philip.”  His normally smiling face went to a frown and he told me he would think about it.

Christmas rolled around. One of my daughters got a “heavy bag” you could punch or practice kickboxing on. It needed to be hung from the ceiling in our garage so we called the maintenance office and they said they would send someone over. Soon a golf cart arrived with a very large smiling man carrying a toolbox. He didn’t speak English but by then I could speak enough Chinese (and gesture) well enough to communicate. I looked up at the Chinese giant and noticed the name embroidered on this uniform was “Hunk”. I think someone from the office picked that name for him.

Ironically, unlike in Japan, I had to have a Chinese name for official paperwork.  Someone from the corporate office in Hong Kong picked my name without consulting me. She took two Chinese characters that had the combined sounds of my last name. – well sort of. “The two characters mean sharp and bright” she said cheerfully over the phone. Not happy at having no input regarding my name, I responded that I guessed the meaning of the name could be interpreted as prick and closed the conversation with a less than sincere “thank you”.

Philip finally agreed not to change his name

Since the Chinese language is much harder for me than Japanese, I ended my time in China thankful that many of the people I dealt with everyday took English names. I was probably most thankful that Philip  agreed  not to change his.  

Election Day - Another Sad Story

When I lived in Shanghai politics was a common topic during group lunches with the local staff. There was a lot of curiosity about US politics and a certain suspicion about the reporting of US elections by Chinese television. My local team seemed to know and care more about US politics more than most Americans. Chinese TV does a great job of pointing out the negative aspects of the US system. Of course the behavior of our politicians makes the job easy for them. 

The current state of the US political process is a head scratcher for many foreign observers

I am glad my friends in China aren’t being forced to watch the madness of the current senatorial campaign in North Carolina. I have been home much of the past few weeks and experienced the non-stop barrage of mudslinging back and forth between the democratic incumbent and her republican challenger. According to the local newspaper, literally tens of millions of dollars have been spent so far in the “campaign”. I have not heard one positive statement about what either candidate will do. They only talk about alleged misdoings and character flaws of the other candidate. My phone rings multiple times a day with automated campaign calls. Makes me wonder if my friends in Shanghai weren’t right about certain benefits of a one party system. No, I am certainly not advocating that but our system clearly needs an overhaul.

More mud than issues in North Carolina

One of my favorite election conversations was more about linguistics than political drama. I had a great Japanese teacher. She always sought to make the lessons practical by discussing issues of the day. One morning during US “election season” my first year in Japan, she began the lesson by asking me about the “upcoming erection”. Given that “L” as we know it does not exist in Japanese and is normally substituted with the “R” sound; election is normally pronounced “erection” by Japanese English speakers. At first I was quite surprised by the question but then after looking directly at the very proper Japanese lady before me, I realized this was simply a manifestation of the “substitution of R for L phenomena”. Nevertheless my attempt to keep a straight face failed and my sensei immediately realized the pronunciation error and the meaning. She smiled and lamented the problem of speaking about the topic in English. I was lucky to have heard this first from my sensei so I was prepared not to laugh on Election Day when I was asked the topic by others.

The vexing problem of the "L" has many manifestations

The year in question was 2000 which of course was the year of the Bush – Gore debacle.  I remember starting a meeting with customers who told me Gore won and it had been announced on TV. I got home and found that nobody had won and I spent the next few weeks trying to explain our convoluted electoral process to my Japanese friends who seemed to take comfort in the fact that our political process seemed as screwed up as Japan’s.

It is hard to keep a straight face when asked; “don’t you have an erection in the US today? Or as in 2000, “wow, the US erection really lasts a long time.” Explaining the nuances of the “hanging chads” and the election equivalent of a food fight in Florida was tough enough but many were surprised to find out that the candidate with the most votes doesn’t necessarily win in our “democratic” process. While nobody came out and compared our 2000 process to a third world election, I had the feeling many were simply too kind to state the obvious.

Given the current state of our political process maybe we should all be seeking medical attention because our “election” definitely lasts more than 4 hours.  

Age Old Questions

I am starting this blog post on day 10 of a 12 day Round the World trip. I just boarded the Shinkansen in Tokyo. In a little over 2.5 hours I will be in Osaka. Hopefully in less than an hour I will see Fuji san (aka Mt Fuji). It is always hard to predict from the weather in Tokyo whether Fuji san will be hiding in the clouds or reveal herself.

Unfortunately Fuji san was hiding this time so I can only show an old picture

Watching the Japanese “urban countryside” rush by usually puts me in a reflective mood and today is no different.

I was a relatively young man when I started traveling the world but as the years pass I find myself on the upper end of the age spectrum in meetings. During my first trips to Japan, I often was 20 years younger than the people I was meeting or negotiating with. The logical part of my brain and the mirror tell me I am getting older but I keep waiting to “feel” it with the exception of a gimpy right knee worn down by decades of morning runs.

For some reason in the past several days I have been asked my age in four countries. Being asked your age in Asia is more common than in the US. In Japan age is more closely linked to rank in a company than it is in the US. In general, older people are treated with more respect in Confucian societies than in America so the age thing isn’t all bad.

The first time I was asked about my age in the recent past didn’t bother me because it was on my home golf course in North Carolina and a Japanese playing companion who is bigger and stronger than I am noted that my drives were 10 to 15 yards past his on almost every hole. Finally on the back nine, he said “Joe-san, may I ask your age?” “Showa san-ju-ni nen”  I responded stating the year of my birth in terms of the reign of the emperor at that time. He did the five second calculation and said “wow!! ”. “Yes, I am that old” I said but had the last laugh on the scorecard.

Looking back, my biggest age crisis came when I turned 19. My life seemed to have rushed by and I viewed the onset of “20” with trepidation. Age 30 was noted but since my 10K times were still dropping, it didn’t bother me. I didn’t even take note of 40 and 50 didn’t seem like a big deal until many of my younger peers told me it was hard for them to accept that I could be 50. “You will get your turn soon enough" was all I  could say.

The year I turned 50 we went on a family holiday to Viet Nam. On New Year’s eve my wife entered me in a kayak race which turned out to be several. That is, since I won my first heat, I moved on to the next the round and the next. I wound up in the finals with a 25 year old and was a length ahead half way through the race only to be nudged out at the finish line. A few hours later I was reading a book by the pool when I suddenly felt four shadows looming over me. A delegation of young hotel workers had come to congratulate me on my kayak exploits in the nearby river. Their English was ok but they struggled to find the right words to explain my failure at the finish line. “We were really impressed, you know you if, if, if you …..” I said: “don’t worry I understand - if I wasn’t so damm old I would not have lost at the end”. Well since I had brought it up they confirmed – “yes, that is right for somebody your age, you were impressive”. I stood up, smiled and said “thanks – I think”.

Last weekend, I met someone I knew ten years ago when I lived in Japan. We shared a meal and caught up on our lives. As we were saying goodbye, he said “how old are you now?" I was caught a little off-guard, stated my age and then wondered to myself why he asked.

The final blow in the recent round of age questions came early this week. I was at a Starbucks with some people I used to work with.  I mentioned meeting one of the senior executives in their company a few days earlier in Shanghai. They wondered aloud how much longer he would be in his current position and his chances of getting to the very top of company management. They mentioned his age and then, for some reason,  wanted to confirm mine. I was not sure how my age fit into their calculation of another person’s upward mobility  but clearly I was somehow a barometer of “senior status”.

Having a senior moment on a golf course near Tokyo

Tomorrow will be my last full day in Japan on this trip. Fortunately I am playing golf with three friends that are 3, 6 and 22 years older than I am respectively. They know how old I am and are unlikely to make age a topic of conversation.  For a few hours,  I will be the young man in the group again.