Sheryl Sandberg, China & Me

by J. T. Gilhool

  Of course, while I made these decisions, the struggle to implement them remains. Still . . .

  “. . . I got a feeling . . . tonight’s gonna be a good night . . . tonight’s gonna be a good, good night . . .”

  My Very Funny Valentine

  February 2012

  Shanghai

  Jack and I aren’t the lovey-dovey type. We never bought each other flowers or wrote each other love songs. A big night out was a trip to the ice cream aisle at the grocery store for a pint or two to eat in front of the TV after the kids went to bed. Before the kids, I think a big night out was the same, except we didn’t have to wait to eat the ice cream!

  But, when you drag someone half way ‘round the world for your job, you sorta “owe” them. Or, at least, you ought to try a bit harder. So, I told Jack that we’d have a late dinner after the kids were settled, and I told the kids we’d have a treat together as soon as I got home from the office. At least, that was the plan.

  Execution of the plan was a little off.

  I did get dressed up . . . black pencil skirt, great little sweater and some new peep toe heels that I know make my legs look longer and stronger than they really are. I spent a bit of time on the outfit and tried to get the “look” right. When I left the house, I wanted Jack to be looking forward to my return. I thought that went pretty well. He did walk me to the car!

  I was planning to leave the office at 5 p.m., drop by the Australian butcher shop to pick up a couple steaks, get some wine and then stop at the ice cream store for a special cake and some ice cream for the kids. But, of course, I was delayed.

  At 6 p.m., I was in the elevator and headed out to the car. Here, I don’t drive myself. I have a Driver. It’s a great thing, really. I’ll miss it when we leave. So, as is my practice, I texted Mr. Cao to tell him I was on my way. Usually, he texts back “OK” to tell me that he is waiting at the door. This time he texted back “10 min.” Odd, I thought, because he was expecting me at 5.

  It was raining, causing drivers to pile up at the front door. Mr. Cao was forced to leave his parking spot and circle the building. As more people started leaving for the day, more drivers pulled up which led to a traffic snarl in front of the building thick enough to make Los Angeles traffic look like amateur hour.

  It was so bad that Mr. Cao never actually made it back to the door — I made a run for the car instead. The Transit is a pretty large target so finding it was not a problem, but once I was in the vehicle, it took 20 more minutes to get out of the snarl and into actual traffic, which was even thicker.

  I was late but I could still salvage this evening. I just had to execute the remaining elements of the plan. Get the steaks and wine and pick up some sweet treats for the kids.

  “Today Valentine day, yes?” asked Mr. Cao. The Chinese do not celebrate Valentine’s Day on February 14th. It is celebrated on the 7th day of the 7th lunar month. Usually in August. But, they know Westerners celebrate on February 14th, so flowers are twice as expensive as they are on the 13th or 15th. And the drivers all know it might be an evening out for “sir and madame” — which means overtime.

  “Yes,” I said smiling at Mr. Cao. “We go meat!”

  “Ah, Jack,” he responded.

  “Meat” is the word we use to tell Mr. Cao that we want to go to Yasmine’s, a steakhouse and Australian butcher shop. The steakhouse is on the first floor and the butcher shop is upstairs.

  The rain wreaked havoc on the roads and traffic completely stalled. Sensing my growing frustration, Mr. Cao went “off road” in the Transit, weaving his way through streets that I’d never seen before. We crissed and crossed until Mr. Cao had us out of the traffic jam and on the road toward “meat.”

  I finished up a call as we pulled up in front of Yasmine’s. It was 7 p.m. I got my credit card out of my wallet and — avoiding the puddles and dodging the rain drops — I sprinted inside. I shimmied past the line of customers waiting for a table and headed for the staircase. I made it up about four steps when I realized the stairway was dark and it wasn’t meant to set a romantic atmosphere. It was just plain dark. My heart sank . . . the butcher shop was closed.

  Okay. Maybe I can buy a couple of steaks from the steakhouse to take home. Easier said than done. I tried first to buy raw steaks but I was unable to communicate what I wanted. I could place a take away order, but I’d have to wait 30 minutes at least, which wasn’t possible if I was going to get home in time for the kids. So, I decided on Plan B and headed out the door.

  The rain came down. The wind kicked up. My toes were getting wet. And the street was empty. Something was not right. Where was Mr. Cao? I looked up and down the street but there was no sign of the Transit anywhere. Hmmm. Well, no worries, I’ll call him.

  It was really raining now and it seemed to be getting colder by the second. My pockets were completely empty — no phone, no cash, no umbrella and no idea how to get home. Hmm . . .

  Well, nothing else to do but march myself back into Yasmine’s and ask to use the phone, which should be pretty easy to communicate. I used the universal sign for phone. You know the one — you stick out your thumb and pinkie and put your hand to your ear. As it happens, that same sign (without the move to your ear) means “six” in China.

  I was offered 6 RMB, a menu, a pencil, a set of chop stix, a fork, a towel, some napkins and a seat. I could not get a phone. The staff just looked at me and smiled. I could feel the tears wanting to make their way to my eyes but that really wasn’t going to help. So, I pressed on. I started to accost the patrons. I visited four tables before a nice couple took pity on me. (I learned later that some thought I might be working a scam and trying to use their phone to place an international call.)

  I know one phone number — Jack’s cell phone. I don’t know my phone number, our home number, Jane’s number or even Mr. Cao’s number. I dialed and held my breath. Would he answer a call from some random Chinese phone number? Yes, he did!

  At 7:35 p.m., the unmistakable figure of the Transit appeared on the street. Mr. Cao leaped out to open my door and apologize. He thought I was meeting Jack for dinner at Yasmine’s. Of course he did. I laughed and Mr. Cao looked at me like I was crazy, but he finally laughed too.

  I was soaking wet but I was not giving up. Mr. Cao drove like a bat out of hell, which is really fun in a Transit. We headed for the Ole Market, which is a market with Western food frequented by expats and wealthy Chinese. I was wet, cold and late. I needed to make up time. So, the shoes came off.

  In my bare feet, I ran through the market gathering my ingredients, threw down my credit card and then ran back through the complex to Cold Stone Creamery. I bought the last ice cream cake and a quart of ice cream, ran through the Kerry Hotel and back to the Transit. It was 7:55.

  At 8 p.m. I had one last conference call with Europe and the States. We were supposed to be finishing our appetizers. Jack would get the kids to bed while I finished my last call of the day. But, I was late.

  Just seconds before 8 p.m., I ran into the house. Mr. Cao carried my bags and gave Jack a look that in any language means “you are married to a crazy woman.” Undaunted, I put the cake and ice cream on the table, kissed the kids and told them I was sorry. I left the dinner ingredients on the kitchen counter and raced upstairs to join my conference call. I spread my papers out on the bed, dialed in, and . . . fell asleep.

  Thankfully, Jack and the kids have low expectations and a good sense of humor.

  Three days later on Friday night, the Transit pulled up to the front door of the office with everyone inside. I was waiting right where I supposed to be at the time I was supposed to be there.

  We went to Bella Mia in Puxi for great Roman-style pizza and some wonderful Italian wine. Afterward, we walked to Whisk, which has amazing chocolate desserts. We picked up five pieces of chocolate cake and five brownies.

  We climbed back into the Transit and went home for game night, “American Idol” and dessert. It was better than I had planned for the Valentine’
s Day that got away.

  (“Peng You” or Friend) . . .

  February 2012

  Shanghai

  Today was another rainy day in Shanghai. The only thing different about today was that I took the day off from work and spent it with friends. Indeed, two of my best friends.

  A couple of weeks ago, we had our first visitor. I was excited to welcome a visitor even if it was for only one night. Colleen was squeezing us in on her grand tour of China. She is here on business and enjoying the many splendors of China in February! She had just one night in Shanghai before heading home.

  My excitement about seeing her was building, but when Friday night finally arrived, I was beat. As I often do, I was waffling. We planned to meet at 9 p.m. but after a couple of drinks at happy hour, I was fading. I really just wanted to go to bed. The hubby would not hear of it and kept me moving on the promise of one quick drink and then home to bed. Liar!

  We met at Luma in Xintiandi. The bar was smokey (it is Shanghai) and crowded but as we stood at the entrance looking down the length of the bar toward the band, we saw her. Colleen is unmistakable and unforgettable. She was standing up, waving her arms wildly, smiling and calling after Jack. In that moment, I was so glad I had not gone home to bed.

  And it only got better. I cannot describe the band; it can only be experienced. And to really enjoy it, you needed to go to high school in the ‘80s. It was a cover band of sorts. They took requests and banged them out one after another, complete with choreographed dance moves.

  It was so bad and so funny that it was unbelievably wonderful. We drank too much, we sang too loud, we danced (well one of us danced) and made ridiculous requests that took us right back to high school, where we became friends all those years ago.

  Sometime long past 2 a.m. we dropped our friend off at her hotel so she could ‘nap’ before catching a taxi to the airport at 5:45 a.m. As we all stumbled out of the Transit to say our goodbyes, our driver laughed and said “mei ban fa.” Jack put his arm around Colleen and responded, “Wo men de peng you mei ban fa.” (Loosely translated to “Our friend is unexplainable; she is what she is.”) Ah, very true. It was a great night. It was high school all over again only so much better.

  Only a few weeks before seeing Colleen, I was actually in the States. The trip was packed with business “stuff” and I had left Shanghai with things at home in a bit of a mess. I needed someone to listen and share a beer with me.

  A good friend of mine from college was in a bit of transition herself — maybe we could swap stories over a pint. Just one problem — she was in Florida and I was in Michigan. I called her anyway.

  Maya is that friend you have that your kids think is so much cooler than you. Our children have been watching Maya once a year at the end of the Super Bowl. They’ve been watching her ‘live’ or ‘on tape’ for years now.

  Sometimes, they see Maya with the Lombardi Trophy, sometimes with a player, but always with a smile. My job does not take me to the Super Bowl or the Super Anything.

  Maya will answer when I call even if I’ve neglected our friendship for years. And, at times, I have been neglectful. Still, if needed, I’d drop anything for her. As I was packing my suitcase to return to Shanghai, I called her. I just needed to let off some steam to someone I trusted. She didn’t let me down. And, as it turned out, I was able to return the favor.

  Getting back to today . . . my best friend — Jack — spent the day with me and helped me celebrate my Shanghai best friend’s birthday. I love birthdays. I do. Celebrate life . . . it is so much better than the alternative. While sitting with Lily and Jack today, I was reminded of Colleen and Maya and how important friendship really is to a person.

  Lily took me in when I arrived in Shanghai all those months ago. She kept me moving that first weekend, and the next 11 weeks while I awaited my family’s arrival. I think, no actually I know, that I would have been lost without Lily. I was desperately lonely without Jack and no amount of Skyping could make up for it. Lily understood.

  Lily showed me Shanghai and Bangkok. She spent Saturday afternoons with me. She helped me figure out where to buy shampoo, how to order food from Sherpas, how to make a dinner reservation with style. Together we decorated the children’s bedrooms, shopped for treasures, drank good wine and ate good food.

  It was a fast connection. Lily is something of a soul mate for me. I can comfortably be myself with her.

  I was so happy during that birthday lunch to be with two of my dearest friends. My smile was genuine and deep as I reflected on how fortunate I’ve been in my life to have friends who are truly wonderful, generous and kind people. People who make me happy, just by being themselves, and allowing me the opportunity to dance to the rhythm of their unique and mysterious music.

  . . . “peng you”. . . it means friend.

  Father, Forgive Me

  August 2012

  Shanghai

  Father, forgive me, it’s been 6 months since my last post . . .

  A psychiatrist recently told me that moving is among the top 5 most stressful life events. He added that moving to China was likely higher on the scale than other moves. Now, you might be wondering why I was talking to a psychiatrist but we’ll hold that for the next blog. Suffice to say, when one moves to China with three kids, a large husband and a dog, someone’s going to need a shrink sooner or later.

  It has been stressful. I ain’t gonna lie. As we’ve watched our children deal with the move in their own ways, it has caused me to re-evaluate the decision to come to China. The question I most often ask myself is why did I come to China? Did I come to China for my career or did I come to provide a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for our family or was it both? When the kids are missing home, friends, ketchup — well, it feels like maybe I did this for me and not for us.

  In those dark places, deep within, I am never sure why I did this . . . but I am glad we did. For better or worse . . . I am glad.

  Father, forgive me, it’s been 12 months since I last stepped into a church . . .

  Faith is a struggle for me. Faith in God. Faith in others. Faith in myself. It has been 12 months or more since I personally stepped into a church for the purpose of praying. It isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible to go to church in China. This isn’t about church, really, it’s about having been away for 12 months and taking stock. Confession may be good for the soul, but it sure feels like shit.

  I have to confess that this has been hard in almost every way imaginable. I confess that I have struggled to find any sense of balance between my family and my work. I confess that I have wanted to chuck it all and go home more often than I can count. I confess that I also absolutely love being in China and all of the experiences we have had over the course of this year. I confess I feel guilty about that too.

  Father, forgive me, I’ve had impure thoughts . . .

  Not too long ago, I sent an email to a good friend saying that “when you find yourself on a rooftop deck, naked, sober and not having sex, you know something has gone terribly wrong.” I was referring to an attempt to get a cell phone signal in the middle of the night to talk to our daughter who was in Russia and homesick. And yet, this image seems to capture most of our first year in China. Running naked across rooftops . . . with our hair on fire . . .

  I would venture it isn’t a stretch to imagine that I am not the only member of our gang to have had impure thoughts . . . and not just of the sexual variety. No, I bet they have been more of the “I’d like to kill her” variety. And, really, who can blame them? I’ve had the same thought, which leads to the next sin . . .

  Father, forgive me, for I have been gluttonous ... prideful ... envious ... and without remorse ...

  Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia, Russia, Germany, Austria, France, Great Britain . . . elephants, monkeys, exotic birds, sharks, sting rays, lemurs . . . food, wine, chocolate, theatre, music. . . and more, always more.

  I have not only loved every hour, minute and second of these experiences, I have nev
er been happier than to show our children the world and to experience their discovery of it with them. Yes, I am proud that we have been able to do it. And, I am envious of those who have been able to do more and do it better. But, I am not sorry.

  We are closer than ever . . . partly out of necessity, partly out of shared experience and partly because we discovered that we can count on each other. It is true: That which does not kill you, makes you stronger. We are stronger as a family. We are, individually, also more fragile, if that makes sense. Our fragility, though, is in its own way a source of our strength. Accepting . . . loving . . .

  Father, forgive me, for I will . . . do it all over again . . .

  After 2 months traveling Europe and visiting family in the States, the gang returns to China in just five days. I am hopeful Year 2 will exceed the wonders of Year 1 and also be somewhat less stressful. This is my request for absolution for failing to post more regularly and for being selfish and dragging my poor family all over the world. But, as I haven’t been to church in a year, it seems unlikely that I will be absolved of my sins or curtail them . . .

  I anxiously await the gang’s return and endeavor to see and do more than ever . . .

  Where the Hell Have You Been?

  August 2012

  Shanghai

  Spurned. That is the word that I would use to describe how I feel. Spurned. And, just like a good spurned woman, my wrath is far worse than the fury of hell. I believe it was Churchill who said that if you find yourself in hell, you best keep walking cause if you stop, it’s gonna get hot. You outta be feeling the heat my friend, because you are in hell! You best keep walking.

  While Wrigley did not exactly say those words, I certainly sensed a bit of “where the hell have you people been” in him when I returned to China a few weeks ago. He came to the door and ran directly to our Driver, Mr. Cao.