Understanding China, One Blog at a Time

An American in China

Working in China Part 2

Posted by w_thames_the_d on October 29, 2010

Ok, so now you have battled the crowds at every step of the way to come to work at China, what happens next, you may ask…

You walk down the hall, in front of you one of two scenarios will play out.
1- the boss or ‘leader’ as they call him in China is there
2- the boss or ‘leader’ is absent

If the ‘leader’ is in then the place will be a hive of ativity. When the leader is in there are never enough pencils to be sharpened and flat surfaces to be scrubbed. The lower echelon employees will be particularly busy and will practically run from place to place all in order to show the leader that when the ax falls and someone needs to be cut, it will not be them.
The leader will be given coffee or tea and will languish in his corner office (I use the term ‘his’ as bosses in China are men). The boss will have an overly aggressive and arrogant manner and own a car, a bigger car then the lesser employees. The man will have dyed black hair and glasses, these are a must. He will have a slight paunch and look about 14 years older than his true age.
When he passes, you can see the employees practically genuflect, once in his office they breathe a collective sigh of relief and go back to chatting on QQ.
The boss soon becomes bored with whatever it is that Chinese bosses do, and will begin to wander the office. The collective will shake their heads, close their QQ chat boxes and begin to shuffle papers (they still use a ton of papers in China). As the boss approaches, the minions still bent over in homage will smile like school girls all the while nodding and saying yes yes yes.
The leader, once satisfied that the minions have not change and no upheaval seems eminent will begin to smoke in his office and call in his underlings one by one. The minions resume their qq chats with discrete looks saying, when does that a$$hole leave..
This farce is carried on over the course of 3 to four hours and then lunch is called.
With pasted on smiles of insincerity, the Chinese flock together to see if the leader will join them at lunch. The man says yes, a collective $hit can be heard, but all of the lemmings sprint to pull on their stocking caps, cheap poly jackets and knockoff handbags.
They wait while the important man makes phone calls oblivious to the shouts of hunger pangs issuing from their collective bellies. At the appointed hour the great man, who typically is no taller than a 12 year old in the US then leads the bevy of quails off to eat…

ok i am bored, will do more with this later…

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