Tag: Home

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.

Say “cheese”!

I touched on this slightly in another blog. It’s about growing up never knew if my grandparents even smiled at all (I gathered this from the black and white photos in the family album).

We are still shackled by the analog world which tells us to stand straight and stare straight into the lenses (36 poses max).

Yet cameras are now built in the smart phones. It’s digital. It’s universal almost.

So why not say “cheese”! Every moment is now an event… the outing, the posting caught on camera.

Picture-taking used to be a Christmas event to document how babies have grown. To make post cards and greeting cards.

With online convenience, we now send greetings digitally. It’s fitting that I pen these lines an hour before the coming year of the Snake.

My parents used to whip up some poems to welcome the New Year and refresh our spirits.

It’s a necessary reboot.

Everyone works hard there in the East (more manual labor than Industrialized West). The hot weather makes you sweat all day.

A/C is for the white-collar folks.

If you were to document in photos a day in the life of an average worker in Vietnam, you would find that he/she gets up very early and tries to beat traffic and everyone else.  He/she either goes for a run before sunrise or not at all.

Then strong coffee. Then chopping woods, so to speak . People either divide up a huge chunk of meat, or newspaper delivery folks a huge pile of papers, or lottery sellers got their tickets at predetermined gathering points.

When the sun glistens, open air markets are already in full swing: fish and fruits, eggs and noodle.

People have breakfast and people have fights.

All in a life of an average worker. Traffic smog and traffic accidents. Back to and from work. Then the night life. In full swing. Snacks on wheels at night market. Bangkok or Saigon. On the waterfront, or back in the alleys. Life at its rawest. Capture it on camera.

Let it go not. Why wait. Things won’t stay the same. In our life time, we saw this digital revolution. At least, future generations can deduce that their grandparents indeed say “Cheese” for the digital cameras. Back when I had my TV internship, that regional station was still hanging on to half film (with dark-room processing of news reels) and half tape. I am sure it has gone completely digital by now.

Loosen those tight grips of the analog shackle. We have yet seen the full implication of complete digitization. Who would still laminate a classic book, knowing that it’s available on Kindle. Yes, we have seen rising unemployment, which was a result of automation and digitization, which in turn, is causing underemployment for others. The 55-hour work week will soon be reduced to 35, to accommodate incoming workers.

Work less, enjoy life more. What else can we ask for standing on giants’ shoulders and inventions of the 21st century. Cheers!

Money as Motivator

Money does something to us. It both elevates and debases us.

In War and Peace,  Pierre, as opposed to Prince Andrew, inherited a vast estate. Then things went south: duel, divorce and determination to “sanctify” himself by joining the Free Masonry Society.

When money is involved, motivators are involved, not all pure and noble.

We are shy to talk about it.

Great men and lowly men, are distracted and distraught by it.

Gone are the days of Bread’s Everything I Own (I would give everything I own, just to have you back again).

We live out Victor Hugo‘s script (Les Miserables as 99 percenters):

homeless and jobless drain on the system, interest rates eating up social security reserves.

Money man over Guitar man.

Pragmatic over Romantic.

Money rules and changes the rules.

Hire those who are hungry. They will stay with you, sing your praise and watch your back. (the lack of money) keeps them humble and loyal.

The poor gives us an opportunity to be God-like.

A tang of guilt is good for the noble soul.

When you do this to the least of these….

Not GM, nor IBM. The least of these.

Money is inherently a motivator, but not the motivator.

(this is a multi-part series on Motivator e.g. music, passion etc…)

If Money is the only thing, we should all be bankers and be bailed out.

If Money is the only thing, then what happened before Money? (Read The Ascent of Money).

I have run into people who genuinely believe Money is Miracle, not just Motivator.

When they seek Money as an End in itself, they instinctively know they cannot take it with them in death.

Here in Vietnam, at funeral and wedding, money is involved. Fake money for the former, and real one for the latter (which helps pay for the banquet).

Obviously, there are some truth to it: Money opens doors, even the gate of  Hades.

Pierre settled for a quick divorce with the splitting of his estate (money).

People marry in the name of love, and divorce in the name of money.

The practice of dowry and divvying up from a will show the importance of money.

Money talks.

If I had been told Capitalism means money and money, I would have understood the concept and philosophy immediately. Instead, I was given a run-around. Sold on a dream and not drawn from a bank account. Apparently, they also instinctively know that in hiring and selling, you must first lay out all the intangible values, then slap them last with the bottom line. By then, all the other motivators (safety, status etc..) have been weighed in to spin the and price justify.

Apparently even the money handlers know deep down, money is only a motivator, albeit an important one. In all seriousness, people in Vietnam and China burn artificial 100-dollar bills, fake I-pads and I-phones for dead ancestors to use. It’s a small price to carry out filial duty.

The thrill of a trip

Essentials only. Portable stuff. Restricted carry-on.

Off we go. Leaving behind the desk top, roof top and all  the stuff on the counter-top.

While traveling, we put on more weight. Eating “lesser-of-the-two-evils” choice of foods.

Meeting and making small talks with people we had never met.

It’s  a thrill nevertheless. The exchange of goods and services. People come with it, to wheel and deal. To be the middle man. Silk road to railroad, Shanghai to San Fran.

We toss and turn. The vessels are not designed for sleep comfort. Want that, you have to go to the nearest Mattress Discounter. I was told the internal combustion engine was really hot inside. No wonder, in the heat of summer, it is only getting worse, even with coolant and freon to insulate us. One more reason for the switch to electric vehicles.

Those who take the train. It is analogous to one’s life.

Once you took that fork in the road, let’s say career vs stay-at-home, from there, many mini-forks will present themselves. And it’s irreversible.

People advise us first to pick a good team. Then, a product, strategy and exit.

It is to show who you  chose to work and live with are of extreme importance.

They can bring out the best or worst in us.

Dreamers, Doers or Nay Sayers.

Take that road trip, or that rail track.

Just be mindful that with thrill, comes (price) tags.

And pick your travel mates carefully. It’s going to be a long and winding road. But short, if in good company. That’s a thrill in itself, who you are with.

Feminism Vietnamese way

I have seen them in Ao Dai, on scooters.

I have seen them in Ao Dai, holding child, on scooters (perhaps on the way to childcare) before work.

I have seen them with child canvassing the street selling lottery tickets.

Perhaps I used to be that very child my teacher mom in Ao Dai used to carry.

I remember we had to get help. Live-in maids. Four working adults in a family were not available for one child.

Existential loneliness. Thay, nhay, chup (stand on the table, toss the ball, jump in mid air, and catch it while falling).

I repeated that drill so many times, it now stuck in my memory.

Then, luckily, I got a hold of my brother’s guitar.

So, from then on, me and the strings.

Back to feminism in Vietnam as I experienced it.

Vietnamese female went professional such as accountant (my sister), teacher (my mom) , pharmacist (my sister-in-law) and dentist (my niece), during the 60’s and war time.

They put in long hours, performed up to par.

Then came home. Another round of expectations: that of a housekeeper, to have home-cooked meals on the table and clean sheets in the bed (Vietnamese female version of Papa – “keep those shoes on my feet”).

Fast forward to the here and now.

Some took a short cut (yahoo news features a mug shot of a supposedly $2500 per night call girl). Others migrate overseas under pretense and pretext of marrying to foreigners.

I only know how my mom lived her life.

From morning to mid-night.

I refer to her in another blog (Mom’s Ao Dai).

But I cannot help mentioning her again since I saw another mom-type, holding baby in arm, while riding the scooter, in Ao Dai (receptionist uniform at a Vung Tau resort).

Good luck to all the children without a helmet. Good luck to all those moms who struggle to raise a family in a very hot, flat and crowded city.

Good luck to young and emerging female type who has to juggle between tradition vs modernity without tossing the baby out with bath water.

Everyone I spoke to agreed that here in Vietnam ,

it’s the women who actually run the show: power, money and happiness/well-being of their children.

Betty Friedman would have been proud: here, they practice feminism without labeling it as so. Just do it. Lean-In. Thanks Mom.

Unlikely place

Ugliness and evil exist in unlikely places.

So are beauty and goodness. A vulnerable butterfly dancing in rush-hour traffic, an innocent child on the way home from periodic check-ups.

Life offers us not an a-la-cart menu, but a buffet.

Fill up not with french fries and jello.

Yet at the same time, eat not in full the dry roast beef.

Instead, try to sprinkle some ground beacons and top everything with raisins and sunflower seeds.

Who knows.

The beauty is in the combo.

Your combined choices make up life tapestry.

Mine has certainly been an interesting one: like a bouncing billiard ball, I went from boy-to-man, from being a Vietnamese college freshman, to an US graduate, then back to living and working in Vietnam.

I have built and burned bridges, and I have seen both beauty and beast.

Ugliness and evil co-exist with beauty and goodness.

Life buffet.

Choose wisely.

And make your combination a great one, uniquely yours.

Life is so boring with a bunch of automatons, all cut from the same cloth.

Campbell soup cans.

15-minutes of fame.

Go for it. Live a little and slow to die.

Assert, charge and fire (then aim).

While at it, don’t forget to notice the dancing butterfly in traffic, free of worry and free of self-sabotage. If  human, you and I, cannot live as free as those lower-species, then why bother at all. I learn this in the most unlikely place: while crossing Saigon traffic. Call me lunatic, call me poetic and romantic. Whatever you can label me with, just try it out for yourself: start flapping your wings. P.S. a friend mentioned that while jumping to their deaths, some 9/11 jumpers tried to fight gravity even for a few last seconds. This graphic scene wells up tears in me as I am sure it will in yours. I believe I can fly.

CWO – Chief Worshipping Officer

On my first week as CEO at UVT – I met an issue none of the Business School in the US had equipped their students for: to bow or not to bow at the Fortune–God altar in the school lobby.

It’s hard enough to know where the bathroom is – much less stumbling upon the Fortune Gods.

Yet I did. And handled it.

You see here in the East – one believes in not just skills – professional or otherwise but also in good luck and good heart. Without the blessings from the Underworld, no matter how hard you try – the results won’t be satisfying.

Yes you can manipulate or negotiate.

But human efforts don’t account for much (reverse 80/20 rule).

Hence the appeasement and appearance of compliance: to the authority and Higher Authority.

I feel humble.

I know there are forces out there beyond my purview and power.

I do my best and leave the rest to the Fortune Gods.

Power outage – gas price – typhoon.

Seeing students eager to learn  motivates me.

After all I still have my student ID card with me (University of Saigon 1975).  At their age – I did pray to the gods to protect me against the uncertain seas.

I was at the mercy of International waters and International Relief . I was at the mercy of prejudiced bosses at work and mean bumps on the street.

I have survived it all – unprepared or ill-prepared.

From this vantage point – it’s me who needs to burn that incense more than anyone else.

So I bowed and prayed.

I needed help.

I needed blessings .

I needed to taste sweat and tears – as cake mix. Then I can bake that cake of success. In Gates of Fire – the leader of 300 just responded after being warned that the enemy’s arrows will cover the sun: “That’s good. We will fight in the shade”.  Yes Achille Yes Samson Yes Pharaoh.

You will all die. Momento Mori.

But not yet. Not dead yet. Got to taste sweet success even when it is mixed with sweat and tears. Makes life more worth living. Rather try and fail than fail to try “and they bow and pray – to the neon god they made…”

Motherhood, Madness and Meditation

Seeing a photo of a grey-hair guy, on bike and  backpack, riding home with bouquet of flowers in the front basket, reminded me of International Day of Women.

There is no doubt, according to an Australian’s observer, that women are bosses here in Vietnam.

Tiger Mom.

To punctuate this point, I was sitting at an outdoor cafe at 7:30 AM, when three different women, on bikes, taking turn showing up for work across the street.

Despite traffic congestion, pollution, heat, and child-care, they were on the dot.

In fact, I did not need to verify this point.

I lived with a few: mother, sister, cousin, nieces and wives.

The women I know have been remarkably strong, resilient and yes, slightly masculine in the sense that they did not mind the menial work.

Now, with I phone, I pad and scooter, they are on a level playing field.

multitasked, multi-talented and multi-facet.

Women respond to stress much better than men.

Phone companies love female customers: they chat, text, and send pics.

When e-commerce fully takes hold here,  we can be sure that women will spend a chunk of  change online.

Still at early stage of mass market, Vietnam , and its female consumers, are well on the way to fulfill life’s dream: motherhood, madness (shop till they drop) and yes, meditation.

My mom showed me that these two extreme can co-exist. In fact, they need each other to balance out a person, a woman at that.

On this Women Day, let’s salute that we all come from the same Womb, and Technology finally erases the inequality of the sexes (caused by agrarian  culture and industrialization).  Two Vietnamese women came to mind: one at the Pentagon, invented heat-seeking bomb, and the other, in the US Air Force , known for precision strike.

I wish a lot of luck on those husbands whose wives have out-achieved their dreams. May they seek comfort in the company of good men who do not succumb to madness, but to meditation.  A woman’s glory is also a man’s joy. Just have to update your version of software. Think different. Collaborate and not compete.

Survivor’s guilt

We have heard uplifting stories about the human spirits, survivors at seas and in the wilderness. But the other side of the coin is survivor’s guilt. This reaction is just an extension of that loneliness as portrayed in Cast Away.

The story goes like this. Three guys survived a crash and found themselves on an island. Of course, “he ain’t heavy, he is my brother …” Then an angel appears to grant each one a wish. “I want to go home”.

The second guy gets the same wish. The third and only guy left couldn’t wait for his turn. He blurts it out “Gee, I wish my friends are still here with me”. You know what happened then. His wish to “friend” the other two canceled out their reunion at home, bringing them all back to that lonely island of three.

Survivor’s guilt.

It eats us up inside:

I woke up this past Christmas realising it was my friend’s last Christmas.

He has now passed away. But for that brief morning moment, I experienced a speck of guilt. Perhaps it will return next Christmas as well.

For ten years, between 1975-85, I lived in guilt. My dad had stayed behind in our home in Saigon while I partied on (Disco craze).

I ended up volunteering at refugee camps, longing to see my Dad‘s face among the crowd (in fact, one of the guys in my team got that wish: he was reunited with his two younger brothers right there in the Jubilee refugee camp).

That long decade saw the rise of Rambo character, who tried to relieve his guilt via rescue mission.

Relief or rescue, we were onto the same theme: guilt.

Eastern culture was more into “shame” than Western‘s “guilt”.

The aftermath of Vietnam left us paralyzed with both shame and guilt.

(Reflections of my life).

At times, while working out, I moved the damn weight away from my chest, all along with silent scream: ” I did not cause war”.

Yet the impact and influence are the same: separation, loss and bewilderment.

So, on that quiet beach walk, or a stroll through my moon alley, I picked up a stranded star fish, or a loose brick. Just do what I can, in smallest way to make life worth living. It matters to that particular star fish to be tossed back to the sea. Or the brick to the side of the road. Makes it a safer world.

A world without guilt. Survivor’s guilt.

Happy Monday

Yes, one might feel Wonderful Tonight, but not the next morning, Monday that is.

Unless, it’s a keeper. Passion doesn’t push it way in, since it’s intrinsic in nature.

Yes, we are alloted only 24 hours a day.

But some of us can connect the dots faster than others.

Then there are those who can help others make those connections.

Blessed are the peace makers.

Former President Carter made a comment the other day about the agenda Occupy movement.

He was into Habitat for Humanity. Why not start Jobs for the Jobless.

Happy Monday to those who got work.

Happy Monday also to those who look for work.

Happy Monday to stay-at-home mothers whose sacrifices are much needed.

The innocence of the late 50’s, early 60’s showed forth in “Monday is Happy Day…Tuesday is Happy Day”.  Wonder if those sentiments will ever make a comeback. Please hold the grease and the hairspray though. Those who find Monday a Happy Day can surely handle Friday’s Happy Hour.