Tsukuba Monogatari: Twenty-second post
I requested a one-on-one with Morita-san, Marketing Communications Manager, who is sending a subordinate to our U.S. training next year. He had stated in a written questionnaire that he expected the training to give Uno-san “a complete understanding of U.S.-Japan trade issues” – so I thought I’d better have a little chat with him to manage expectations.
I had seen him around, but never met him. He entered the room with that “Oy, a gaijin” look we all know so well, grunted in response to my self-introduction, and just barely touched two limp fingers to my pro-offered palm, totally avoiding eye contact except with something about two feet below my eye level and three feet to my right. Whatever it was, it must have been really disgusting, and I wondered if the building had a cockroach problem.
I forged ahead, thanking him for meeting me, giving him my agenda, and proceeding to explain the program, all in my best no-nonsense (Company) style. He needs work on “empathetic responses,” my involuntary internal skill monitor whispered. It was like talking to a rock. When he finally did speak, he had the paper I’d given him held up in front of his face, he mumbled, and his pronunciation would’ve sent Carole (our pronunciation specialist) running for a copy of Clear Speech. I had to ask for clarification. He was asking what the “hit rate” was. I was about to reply that I’d only put out a contract on two trainees out of 21 when I realized he was talking about achieving the performance objectives. So I gave him several examples.
Then he asked what the criticisms of the program had been in the past. I mentioned a couple of non-awful ones that I thought might sound good to him – like “not enough free time,” “13 weeks is too short,” etc., feeling a bit like a used car salesman. Meanwhile, I became aware that I was gesturing with my hands more than usual. I noticed that he was watching them as if they were cockroaches trying to mate behind the sink. “Cool it with the hands,” I cautioned myself.
Then I entered the second phase of the meeting, which was to find out more about his expectations for Uno-san’s training (and then trying to beat them down). I shifted into my best intercultural listening style. I gave him lots of time. I took notes (which, incidentally, gave him more time to think). I asked questions for clarification. I confirmed. The paper dropped from in front of his face. He started making eye contact. I asked for his suggestions. It was like a moth emerging from a cocoon. He seemed suddenly excited, and threw out some ideas. I gave him feedback on their feasibility based on what I know of The Company’s headquarters. He took several action steps. (I thought I should take one or two, too – but I couldn’t think of any.) Then, after 40 minutes, I was ready to wrap it up, but he seemed to hesitate. He wanted to make sure that he had said enough. He went to the board and drew a diagram.
At the hour, I wrapped up and gave him my meishi, encouraging him to contact me if he had any further suggestions or thoughts. We walked up the stairs together in comfortable silence; and as we reached the top, he suddenly mumbled something and jerked his head. I deduced that I was to follow him. I followed him to his cubicle, hoping I’d interpreted his head-jerk correctly. He went to his desk, and seeing me hesitate outside the cubicle, jerked his head again. Relieved, I entered the cubicle, whereupon he gave me the names of Uno-san’s primary U.S. contacts.
I wish I had the whole episode on video. The subtitles of our inner thoughts might read something like this:
(At the beginning of the meeting):
Me: This guy needs training.
Him: Good grief. A Japanese woman gaijin.
Me: He hates gaijin.
Him: She sure talks a lot.
Me: I wonder if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, or just doesn’t believe it…
Him: Wish she’d stop waving her hands around. They remind me of mating cockroaches.
(By the end of the meeting):
Me: What a sweetie.
Him: She’s not as bad as some of the others…
Me: Reminds me of my dad… He used to jerk his head, too.
“Conference room“: Courtesy of EdTech Stanford U. School of Medicine. Licensed under cc by NC-ND 2.0
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