Thang Nguyen 555

Cultures on Collision Course

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With some short-term relief work in Asia/Africa and long stint in Telecom, Thang also earned a B.A. at Pennsylvania State University. M.A. in Communication at Wheaton Graduate School, M.A. in Cross-Cultural Communication at Gordon-Conwell Seminary, Boston. In addition, he earned a CELTA – classes taken in Hanoi for cultural re-immersion.

  • What happened to “Next Level”?

    If you followed job ads or start-up pitches, you would be hearing “Next Level” multiple times back then..

    In the 90’s it was “synergy” (M&A terms). Before that “re-engineering” (The Japan that can’t say NO). Now, it’s “collaboration”.

    The Recession inadvertently served as an Editor who cut out words that don’t fit with the times.

    You can’t promise “Next Level” when all you do is cost-cutting, the same with “growth” in the time of austerity and sequester.

    The best we can hope for is “business as usual” i.e. keeping the lights on (and the heat).

    Housing crash created excess inventory, abandoned homes – sold for $1.00- and owners turned renters.

    What we thought was security turns out to be insecurity.

    ADT stickers, still visible, serving no purpose.

    It’s not “safe” to live in your own home when the whole neighborhood were foreclosed.

    Now we need the return of synergy and neighborhood watch.

    We need neighbors and community.

    To come back to the question, what happened to “next level”. The bubble busted.

    It has reached its limit, speculation that is.

    The quants are hard at work.

    The marketers are not , since  companies are not expanding.

    Everyone is busy “collaborating” i.e. cost sharing, ride sharing and burden sharing.

    In down time, we rediscover the value of inverted synergy.

    Like roommates in the dorm, or our parent’s couch.

    Hard times don’t outlast tough people . Hang in there, until we meet again, at the Next Level.

  • Switching the script

    On film set, writer is often called out on short notice to fix the dialogue.

    Something is better left unsaid or sounded odd when in “live” context.

    In life, we can’t retrace our steps to switch the script.

    It’s live, and happened once only.

    There lies the importance of getting the right words first time around.

    Another way to lessen the impact of misspoken words, is to come out immediately and retract.

    Even the NYT does that.

    When the facts are not straight, when a character is mis-portrayed, the best way for editors to damage control is to come out clean.

    We happen to live on this side of the communication (data) explosion.

    Facts and fiction are both out there.

    As mentioned in Brand America a few blogs ago, people do come here and reinvent themselves e.g. name change (anglicized), hair-coloring and new wardrobe. Voila! Boy George and Bieber. Entertainers and sports idols are hot. They are more than hot. They sell merchandise.

    Just Do  It.

    After all, we move about our days, filtering ads and spam mail.

    No wonder we long for those “in” mail.

    Someone cares enough to probe and not to pitch.

    And we in turn empathize with their plights, the pressures they are under.

    If only we could switch the script. Living a new life and assuming a new persona.

    Like when we were kids, imagining we had just been adopted by our real parents.

    We wished for another life, another script (if only the writer were standing by as fixer).

    Then we would be reclaimed, taken back to the castle and live a happy life ever after.

    When I grew up, there was such a story. Of a half-breed (African-Vietnamese). Co Ba Xi. The man who had fathered her left only to come back years later as King of his tribe. Vietnamese Cinderella. But that’s just one jewel among a variety of Immigrant stories, ranging from model minority stories to loser’s stories.

    One last thing about scripting. As long as we live out our story, and not someone else’s.

    At the end of all travel is to return to the same place and to know ourselves for the first time.

    It is often said, life is 10 per cent action and 90 per cent reaction. When a large part of life is lived out of reaction instead of proactive, we are not living our life script. Paul Anka would be proud to hear his “My Way” sung by 7 Billion.

    Why wait for the writer to come to our rescue?

    We are the writers, we are the world.

    While still alive, we can switch the script, reinvent the characters, and overcome the challenges.

    As long as we know what we want.

    Or seek help. There are people who are gentle and kind (not just in San Francisco or down in the Bayou), and whose advice are plenty and fitting (learned this in Vietnam. People still give out free advice as if they were still living in a village).

    I am indebted to professionals on LinkedIn, who endorsed my skill set and characters.

    I am grateful for “followers” . People who trek the trail of current Recession and the trajectory of Social Media.

    What a time we are living in, and what a company we are keeping. Just as we thought we should throw in the towel, then comes help.

    I am the sum of my relationships. Two old people in their early 40’s were still at it, hence, creating me.

    Now I live out that script, all the while hoping to switch those last pages.

    Hope to read about your multi-chapter, multi-tasking life whose script is not written in stone, but evolving with unpredictable twist and turn and whose ending is happy albeit not perfect.

  • New Context New Narrative

    When Starbucks opened its first store in Saigon, it must have been a big blast.

    Centrally located, visibly in-your-face, upscale e.g. wifi and air-conditioned.

    Early stage.

    When I had my cup of Starbucks, like this morning, in a Virginian Mall, there was no fanfare, no fuss.

    Late stage.

    Same store and story (pour your heart into it) but in different contexts.

    Geographical expansion, and brand extension (more international e.g. Starbucks on the Allure).

    With each new day, we add-on to our narratives new twists and turns with challenges in between.

    The story of Starbucks as a brand, or the stories of our lives as biographical history, both evolve and encompass elements outside of our control.

    Good to great stories require comparable-in-size conflicts.

    But for many of us, ambition and adventure are better lived out by actors on the screen than us on the street.

    Still, experiencing the tranquility of an enclosed Mall vs the bustling round-about near Ben Thanh Market, I felt out of context.

    My body is here, overcoming jet lag. But my mind still replay the sound and sight of Vietnam (where people obviously don’t need a coat or jacket).

    I know the iced latte is more popular there, while in Virginia, in the winter, it’s the opposite.

    And the tip? That remains to be seen.

    To top it all, my sister ran into an old American GI who had been in Da Nang and Hue 44 years ago.

    He couldn’t stop talking about his experience back in Nam.

    Had he stayed on and waited long enough there, he wouldn’t have to come back across the world, in new context, for that cup of coffee.

    I am sure when he first returned 44 years ago, he would have felt the same. The body is here, adjusting. But the mind is else where.  That’s how we are: facing similar set of challenges from the outside, but the interior reservoir and responses are different. It makes us different and unique. It is that pause, however long, between stimulus and response, that defines who we are e.g. Walmart door opens on Black Friday (stimulus), people push and jump for stampede (response).

    Same Starbucks, two different localities. East vs West. “And now, the end is near, final curtain…. ” In our own way, each of us is a Star in this Starbucks universe. They can recreate the franchise anywhere, but there is only one you, in or out of context but only one narrative. Own it. Celebrate it and don’t forget to share it. Your personal brand is un-franchisable. It rocks!

  • the Bi-Lingual Mind

    Those of us who move back and forth in between two worlds can relate to this.

    Every time we pick a language to speak or write (E or V in my case), we subscribe to a whole new context e.g. away from tutoyer to address someone as big bro, younger sis  as practiced in the Vietnamese culture. Edward Hall distinguishes between E2 and E3 (E2  for crossing between two similar cultures e.g. French and English). East and West crossing would be an E3. Recent Post article by Richard Cohen addressed the informality in our language ( I love you man). Early in the 19th century, people hardly traveled outside their continent.  WWII unintended consequences were the closing of that distance.

    Graham Greene and Murukami are on the opposite end of the East-West spectrum.

    They brought us keen observation because they were looking at it from the outside.

    Hemingway wrote well when in Paris during the 50’s.

    A bunch of Hollywood actors also flocked to Paris.

    The bi-lingual mind never feels bored. It has access to two strands of thoughts, two treasure chests to draw from.

    More choices and challenges.

    All the richer.

    One cannot approach bilingualism from a pure political stand point.

    Instead, it should be recognized and rewarded (some Multi-National Corporations churn out bonuses for multi-lingual staff for riding both horses at the same time).

    America has been blessed with global citizenry. They came, conquered and created a country.

    They invent Brand America, as they reinvent themselves. Endless possibilities, boundless opportunities.

    Bi-lingual talent is a terrible thing to waste .

    They are our national assets. Twice the contribution, twice the richer. Europe has enjoyed the gifts of multi-lingualism for years. It’s America’s turn to embrace it.

  • Brand America

    American Apparel ‘s tag line is “sweatshop free”. Nike‘s Just Do It (i.e. Just Buy It).

    Apple‘s – Think Different.

    Meanwhile, Haier and Huawei are trying to copy Hundai and Kia who tried to copy Honda and Toyota who had tried to copy VW and Mercedes. Brand building in and outside of America.

    What would John Kerry ‘s “elevator speech” be?

    That America is exceptional?

    America has always reinvented itself?

    Or it has lucked out, despite its short history (compared to other nations). Ironically, its short memory has been its strength – less dogma and insistence on a set way, more adapting and opened to adopting best practices (sort of leap-frogging its political history).

    We have heard so much about brain drain (to America, it’s brain-gain).

    Perhaps Brand America pays well, encourages mistakes and risk-taking.

    Brand America is quite tolerant even forgiving (entrepreneur’s oxygen).

    Brand America has always been youthful (Rock and Roll) and sporty (Super Bowl).

    Brand America might have its British roots, but then Britain had to invade it again (the British Invasion e.g. the Beatles).

    Brand America exports Hollywood and imports not Bollywood.

    Brand America exports clean toilets (American Standard) and fast food.

    Brand America leverages low-interest rates and cheap labor.

    People line up to get in, many stay on, but some have left because of the recession.

    Brand America advocates racial and gender equality, champions environmental and civil rights.

    Brand America is indeed exceptional in the way it treats its weakest link – from pets to children – from the handicapped to the retired.

    When values are at odd, it’s where Brand America shines albeit with vigorous debates and violent disagreement.

    Brand America has enduring values that need constant refresh.

    It is continuously transformed and transfigured: two World Wars , two Recessions and two Towers. Brand America’s strength lies in its people.

    Free thinking and swift action. Some residue from Frontier’s Days won’t hurt. Shoot from the hip. You add to this train of thought. Because you are as much a part of the brand as I. Brand America’s tag line: reinventing you (from Eisenhower to Einstein), sweatshop free, but not free of sweat.

  • Georgetown on my mind

    It’s been some years since my last visit to Georgetown.

    Who could forget the last scene in Exorcist (which set standard for a whole new genre).

    But first, a stop at my parent’s graves in nearby George Mason U.

    Cold and crisp. Students were out for a jog, some even shopped for shoes. It’s President Day. President Obama however chose to spend time in Old Town Alexandria.

    We were lucked out! Imagine what the parking would have been had he picked GT !

    We found a spot on 27th St way pass the Mongolian Embassy (GT could be one of the most international cities besides NYC).

    After deciding to pass on Miss Saigon (the restaurant, not the show), my brother and I settled for Johnny Rockets. Shakes and fries, peppered with music both of us can relate to.

    It says on the mini juke box (next to the ketchup) that it costs only 5 cents per song.

    Give Me Some Lovin., Lean on Me.

    What a time! (50’s Innocence).

    I even got extra milk shake (total one and a half glass). That explains why I feel  so full now.

    Georgetown might be an open-air mall, but to me, it represents something else. It’s neither old nor new. Just classy. World-classy (well, with Pretty Woman, walking down the road… and gay guys too)  elegant, exotic and exclusive.

    On days like today, President Day, one cannot help reflect on the making of the Republic.

    How our taxes are collected to the dime, our parking meters to the minute and our library books to the day. Then how our leaders let it go to the cliff, fiscal cliff.

    I know the Mongolians are watching. They have their embassy here. To see, to learn, and to relay “take aways”. One of the many things they probably won’t take home and take heart is that American spent first, save later.

    Saw a shopper carry a pair of Nike out of the box. He probably just took them off display.

    Now, that’s some “take away”. Just Do It. Run, baby run. Just watch out for the fiscal cliff. It’s tax time. Have we a lot to declare? to write off? to hide?

    On the cover of The Economist, I noticed something about trillions of dollars of uncollected  off-shored corporate taxes.

    I am glad to see across the river that Rosslyn is building out aggressively.  I root for many more Rosslyns and Georgetowns across the nation. Let’s build and they will come.

    Why should world tourists flock to Paris and London? And Mongolian only put a diplomatic presence here, instead of urging their people to come, to spend, and even to stay. We need foreign currencies, in any shape or form. Let them pick the song on the juke box. Good for the house, good for the country. Happy President Day. Start thinking like one. After all, we all live here, and very likely, die here. Georgetown on my mind (courtesy of Ray Charles‘ Georgia on my mind).

  • Fools ignore facts

    In all my stops in London, Zurich, Cote D’Ivoire, Monrovia, Ghana, Hong Kong, Manila, Mexico, Montreal, I formed good impressions of each locality and people. When I came back to Vietnam in 2000 and on subsequent trips, I did the same even in the worst of scenes e.g. how could that guy without legs drag himself on the street selling lottery tickets!

    But this kind of lens Joel Brinkley did not wear on his trip to Vietnam last month (I was still there then). He came back, and wrote that Vietnamese ate anything that moved “birds and domesticated animals are rarities on city streets” and that he saw one lady in Da Nang sell field rats..” this rich in protein diet drove the Vietnamese to attack peaceful neighbors e.g. Cambodian whose diet had less meat.”

    Now he made me paranoid! With the same observation, his steady Big-Mac diet could turn out to be a threat to his journalist students at Standford (who could be 100 per cent sure what’s in the “rich in protein” fast foods).

    Our Canadian neighbors to the North love eating quails. French, horsemeat. Even in IKEA products.

    Regionally, people responded to scarcity and starvation differently. If he had read Guns, Germs and Steel, he would have known that it’s the lack of anti-bodies (against invaders’ germs) in the native population that killed them more than all the aggressors’ guns put together.

    I know what Vietnamese drinkers do and look for. They call it “moi”. It could be appetizers such as roasted peanuts or fried tofu, from escargo (French) to eel (Korean). Vietnam explores and incorporates many strands of culture and cuisine (recent article showed wider adoption of wine, but still not the cheese – due to lactose intolerance).

    On the day Joel Brinkley published his opinion piece on the Tribune Media site, by a stroke of luck, the editorial oversight was asleep at the wheel. I was saying goodbye to a friend over a beer (E European) and fish. Luckily, the joint did not serve dog food, or else I wouldn’t be writing this piece of cultural defense in good conscience.

    I helped circulate Mr Brinkley’s piece to a network of friends, but did not sign the petition as many did (petition for his removal from post). It said he should have practiced what he preached i.e. fack checking before forming an opinion, observe before conclude, and learn the difference between cause and correlation.

    People in Korea, China, Vietnam country side did eat field rats in hard times. Perhaps they want to go back in times (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) bonding over beers (therapeutic more than ritualistic). I once shared a meal with Filipinos over the weekend. We ate without utensils, the native way. It’s their “letting the hair down” time, away from the monotonous rhythm of the Western style cafeteria. And I was glad to be included. Felt like Margaret-Mead then.

    I would not fall into a trap to argue that, yes, I saw rats and heard birds in the city while I was there. It would not be cool if I am pressed about where (in the alley, because I took a short cut to shield myself from the scorching sun).

    But for someone who wrote a scholarly piece on Cambodia, then to make a 10-day stop in Vietnam, all the while living in a group-think bubble (expat cocoon riddled with colonial jargons) just to write-up a piece that stirred up controversy and resentment, was uncalled for. I remember my Communication professors at Penn State. They earned their stripes and their respects. Joel has to earn the prizes he had already received. In the beginning, was the Word. Noble and enabling word, that builds up not tears down. He probably is tasting a spoon full of his own medicine these days, and wishing he did not make those comments. Teachable moments for both prof and students. Just as we thought we could put Vietnam to rest. BTW, a friend in Ghana who took me to his home offered me foods full of tomatoes and hot chillies. And their dark skin was quite shiny and healthy. I don’t think Ghanaian attack any of their neighbors either. Most wars I read about involved McDonald eaters. Or hit and run  Or drive-by shooting. Want me to open the box? P.S. In Talk Vietnam, there is a parody in which the author took a tour in the US and couldn’t find any livestock here either. All eaten!

  • If you could read my heart

    In Eastern cultures, one relies on traditional matchmakers to “read” marriage prospects.

    Online, we’ve got eHarmony.com or Match.com.

    Over job interviews, we rely on body language, off-guard remarks and (in)consistencies to form an impression and to determine candidate’s culture-fit.

    If only could you read my heart.

    How are we to determine his/her reaction after the learning curve? We don’t.

    But there are a few principles:

    – one tends to act consistently with his or her own internal set of standard

    – we subscribe to a social compact

    – we seek to preserve a long-term win-win balance i.e. cheating doesn’t pay

    – collaboration leads to synergy which in turn feeds the virtuous cycle

    – we seek to need-fulfill from the bottom of the Maslow scale up (survival first).

    I never forget the Northridge quake, when we couldn’t get to work.

    Co-workers, Hispanic, Korean, American, Vietnamese, Chinese (Los Angeles office), were all “quake victims”.

    Apparently, there was something bigger than ourselves (and our ethnic make-ups).

    We cared for one another as fellow human beings and shared inhabitants of this fragile planet Earth.

    If they could have read my heart then.

    So, on this Valentine Day, may we – co-workers – assume first the role of fellow inhabitants: from the inner ring loved ones to the outer ring – the human family: black, brown and white.

    Once that social compact is bought in, it is easier to work with someone, to empathize and to collaborate. Test your candidate, see what planet he/she is from. Does he/she even feel at all? Respect at all? Or just go about “doing my job” regardless. No man’s island. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

  • Murakami’s worlds

    Once in a while, we stumble upon an author, just to follow his trail of thoughts.

    Haruki Murakami is one of those He too likes writing and running. Not to mention his out-of-this-worldliness (Moon vs Sun).

    Murakami’s world often consists of characters who feel detached, more like an observer than participant.

    They struggle and strive, often times never arrived. But the journey they took, the travail they faced make it worthwhile. From Kafka to Carver, Murakami exhibits his synthesis skills. His ethos is neither East nor West. In 1Q84, it’s other-worldly ( I read part I and II in Vietnamese, and part III in English, which made the experience even more international).

    He dwells a lot not just on the protagonist but also on the antagonist.

    And he spared not his protagonists who got flaws as much as the antagonists who got redeemable qualities (aren’t we all!).

    His sidekicks sometimes are older men, senile, but with a midas touch (Kafka on the shore) or strong women with a hang-up from the past (tycoon lady in 1Q84).

    When it comes to the meaty part (sex), he just touch-bases on the surface to keep the character real (dark realism).

    Exhaustive but worthwhile, that’s how a journey with Murakami was.

    Just like his 100 km-run. So what do I talk about when I talk about Murakami?

    That his novels don’t rock? His flow of thoughts weird? And his characters while other-worldly, yet seem more real if we chose to conspire?

    All of the above. And more over, Murakami grows richer in detail and description over time.

    I look forward to more developed characters in his upcoming novels. Pick one from his collection, and dive right into his world. Neither East nor West, but then, who needs all those neatly categories, given our blended taste for culture and couture nowadays.

  • Dance clips

    My daughter went pro on YouTube with the Academy of Swag (Don’t Like, or Matrix, or World of Dance – International Hip Hop Competition).

    Happy New Year!

    She got my dancing genes. But more disciplined and better trained since the age of 6.

    With every successive generation, we witness a shift in speed, style and sensation.

    Those combination and permutation of the team’s choreography.

    I saw a billboard about the three Blue Guys (Las Vegas show) now with Balls.

    This year, we got electric vehicles, we got VW transverse platform.

    Work smarter and harder.

    THE CHALLENGE OF OUR AGE IS TO SHIFT FROM BEING A CONSUMER SOCIETY TO THAT OF A PRODUCER ONE.

    We are expert users, but clueless at how to make things (even dinners).

    Some people go through life never have to handwash their clothes, or ride a bike to work.

    The machine has taken over. Dictating how we preserve and share our memories (Twitter 140 characters, and video clip, not too long. By the way, Twitter has just purchased some video company for product extension).

    The “disruptive” guru Christensen predicted the coming demise of the likes of Apple and even Harvard.

    King of the Hill for 15 minutes.

    So my 3-minute of video on Facebook is now “disrupted” by my daughter’s 10-min YouTube clip.

    It’s about time. Not to quit. But for both of us to keep on dancing. Until “the sun comes up from Santa Monica Boulevard”.