The People’s Republic of Desire

by Annie Wang

  "May I have your business card?" I ask.

  After getting Mr. Payne's business card, I say, "I've noticed that you don't have a Chinese translation on the back of your card. On the English side of the business card, you are listed as Editor. In China, even those who understand some English don't know that the editor of a magazine is really the editor-in-chief. So they probably thought you were just an ordinary editor – one of the staff. In China, rank is key. People get different treatment according to their status."

  Mr. Payne nods. "I see. That's why their boss didn't bother to come out. Can you explain another thing? At another magazine, instead of asking me about business, their publisher kept asking me about my own life. Why is that?"

  "May I know what questions he asked?" Lulu asks Mr. Payne in reply.

  "Whether I live in an apartment or a single house, what type of car I drive, even how much money I make. Stuff like that, very personal. Very annoying," Mr. Payne answers.

  "May I know your answers?" Lulu and I both excitedly blurt out at the same time.

  "I didn't tell him about my salary. But I told him that I live in an apartment in Manhattan but have a country home in upstate New York. Before I came to China, I was told that personal relationships are the key in business deals. So I invited him to visit my country home. I said I'd drive my pickup truck to meet him at the airport. I thought he'd like the idea because George Bush drove his own truck to pick up the former President Jiang Zeming near his ranch in Texas. But the publisher didn't accept my invitation. I don't know why he was so un-appreciative." Mr. Payne shrugs with some regret.

  Lulu and I look at each other. Lulu says, "Let me help you analyze this. I think this man doesn't know very much about the outside world. He asked you personal questions in order to get a sense of your status in the United States. In China, most people don't have any clue how expensive apartments in Manhattan are. They think if your company is big and you're important, you should live in a single house or a mansion."

  "But I do have a big house in the country."

  I say, "'Country' might be a good word in the States when used the right way, as country club, or country estate, but in China, it has the connotation of poverty because it's where poor peasants live. Wealthy people live in the cities, not in the countryside."

  "Pickup trucks are not fashionable in China," Lulu adds. "They are considered vehicles for cargo, not for passengers."

  "No wonder they weren't pleased. I didn't know that the Chinese were so class-conscious. What should I tell them about me and my company to make them want to do business with us?"

  "You must stress that your parent company is listed in the Fortune 500," says Lulu.

  I add, "Yes. The Fortune 500 is big here." Lulu adds. "You should also say that your annual salary is what an average Chinese would make in one hundred years."

  "That sounds so capitalistic!"

  "You need to impress your partners with your power and success. We Chinese buy it," Lulu explains and I feel we are like two of his volunteer China consultants.

  "Finally, don't forget to say that you disagree with the Falun Gong cultists and the Taiwan separatists!" Lulu adds.

  "Are you saying that I also need to make a political statement? I need to be both a big capitalist and a big communist to get a business deal here?" Mr. Payne asks with noticeable contempt.

  Without waiting for Lulu and me to reply, he says, "But why should I do business with those stupid guys who have no clue about the United States? They just managed to lose a big deal."

  Lulu and I look at each other, then at the same time we say, "Pick us as your China reps!"

  88 The Mercedes Matrimony

  Getting married is expensive, especially in northern China. Let's look at a couple in a small village in Liaoning Province that I interviewed. The annual income of an average household is less than 4,000 yuan, but a wedding will cost the groom's family at least 20,000 yuan.

  The parents of the groom are expected to have a house built for the newlyweds, arrange a banquet with more than ten tables, and buy basic electronic appliances such as a TV and a refrigerator.

  When asked why a wedding has to be such a costly affair, a young villager, Little Rock, says to me: "In villages, the boys outnumber the girls. A girl, no matter how ugly she is, can always find herself a husband. The boy faces a different story: if you don't make enough money, you can't get married.

  "People from villages are too poor to have an extravagant wedding, but they go into debt to make the wedding as fine as possible," he adds. "You should go to my cousin's wedding in the township. He started off as a poor peasant too, but now he has a business in Shenzhen and tons of money. Here, you can have my invitation."

  I look at the gaudy invitation, which is embossed with gold lettering. "Why did you give this to me? You're his cousin – you should go yourself!"

  Little Rock says: "I don't plan to go because I don't have any fancy clothes. You should check it out. Perhaps there is an article for you in it."

  He's right. Just the other day, I was invited to attend the opening of Vera Wang's wedding gown store in Beijing. The subject of the sumptuous wedding business could be a good article.

  The next day, with the scented invitation in my hand, I hire a car to go to the wedding venue, a restaurant downtown. A traffic policeman flags us down ten streets away from the restaurant. I cannot proceed as all the roads ahead are sealed off. "Why can't we get in? I'm attending a wedding here," I say.

  "Attending Mr. Chen's wedding?" asks the policeman.

  "Yes," I say.

  "Why do you have a Toyota van? Don't you know that only cars like a Mercedes-Benz are allowed to be driving in the procession to the wedding?" says the policeman.

  I hear passing sirens wailing. I look around and see a motorcade flying by. A white, Lincoln stretch-limousine is adorned with roses mounted on the hood and silver wedding bells dangle from the back. Following are many Mercedes-Benzes, old and new, in different colors.

  It seems all the Benzes in town are there, and likely some from out of town, just for the occasion. Before coming to this small city, I learned the township had a high population of laid-off workers who live below the poverty line. Now, I am stunned at the sheer size of the Mercedes-Benz motorcade.

  "Fifty Mercedes just passed. I counted." My driver says.

  I think of director Ang Lee's comment in his movie, Wedding Banquet, that noisy weddings result from thousands of years of sexual repression in China. Perhaps a similar analogy is that such an ostentatious display of money and an exaggerated expression of wealth reflect the deep-rooted anger coming from hundreds of years of poverty.

  While I am pondering this, a luxurious Bentley approaches and comes to a stop. I watch the policeman deny the Bentley's entrance into the motorcade.

  "What type of car is it?" the policeman asks the driver.

  "A Bentley," the driver replies with pride.

  The policeman waves the driver away in contempt. "This motorcade is only for luxury cars. Don't you see that even a Japanese-made Toyota is not allowed?" He points at my car and me. Apparently, Bentley is too new in the Chinese market to let a small town policeman know about its existence and importance.

  I follow the Bentley away from the motorcade, not quite believing what I have just witnessed. Somehow, missing this wedding doesn't seem quite so bad now because my Toyota has just received the same treatment as a new Bentley.

  89 Name-Dropping

  The ancient art of name-dropping is widely practiced throughout modern China. It is a highly valued skill to know just when to use one's affiliation, however remote, with important people to elevate one's own status. More than one business deal has gone through as a result of impeccable name-dropping. Name-dropping is especially vital today because the more important your connections are, the more likely you will succeed in business. The proper subjects of name-dropping are anyone in a position of political power, rich people, celebrities, and, in fact, any person
related to such people. The skill lies not in finding the proper name to drop, or in dropping a name at the most opportune time. For a name-drop to be truly successful, the right name must be dropped at exactly the right time. I have met a name-dropper at a party organized by my friend Beibei at Factory 798. Qing is a public relations executive from northeastern China.

  Handing me a glass of red wine, Qing looks down at his shoes and asks me, "How do you like my new Armani? I bought them when I was traveling with our governor in Milan. They cost me five hundred dollars – three days' salary. Can you believe that?"

  I am turned off right away by Qing's little demonstration of self-worth. I smile at him without saying anything.

  Seeing that Armani doesn't impress me, Qing starts sharing anecdotes of playing mahjong with his city's mayor and police chief.

  Again, I am not amused. Disappointed with his progress, Qing changes his strategy.

  "Niuniu, what is the name of that newspaper you work for?"

  "World News Agency."

  Qing says instantly, "I know someone who works there. His name is Eric. He's a Harvard grad."

  "Yes, he's our big boss," I say.

  Qing nods with satisfaction. He has established his superiority to me.

  "I'll find an appropriate time to mention you in front of him," says Qing.

  "No, please don't."

  "Why not? Eric is a good friend of mine."

  "He's my boss's boss. I'm just a small potato. I don't really think Eric knows of my existence."

  Still trying hard, Qing asks me, "Would you be interested in going to another party? The son of a vice premier is coming to that party and I have been invited. You can come as my guest."

  Before I can reply, Beibei comes running up and interrupts. "Oh, the son of a vice premier is not nearly important enough for our Niuniu. Do you know that she went to school with Hu Haifeng?"

  "Who's Hu Haifeng?" Qing asks.

  "Do you know who Hu Jintao is?" Beibei asks.

  "Of course. He's the number-one man!" says Qing.

  "Hu Haifeng, Hu Jintao – do you see the relationship here?" Beibei raises her eyebrow.

  I can't stand it anymore. I pull Beibei away from Qing and whisper, "Beibei, are you crazy? Hu was my classmate in middle school. We haven't talked to each other for thirteen years. I am sure he doesn't remember me."

  "Oh, come on, do you think Qing is really friends with Eric?" Beibei asks me.

  "You've been listening to our conversation?"

  "Of course! Armani, mayor, police chief, governor, blah, blah, blah. This guy's a serial name-dropper. What a snob."

  As we speak, Qing walks up to us. Before he has time to speak to us, his cell phone rings. Beibei and I listen in.

  "I'm in a party with my buddy Niuniu. Yes, she is an old friend of Hu Haifeng. Hu Haifeng? You don't know him? Does the name Hu Jintao mean anything to you? Yeah, that's right…"

  "Look whose name is being dropped now," Beibei says, winking at me.

  "The next time you organize a party, don't forget to set a name-drop-free zone," I say to Beibei.

  90 Advice for Returnees

  Many overseas Chinese returnees suffer from reverse culture shock after coming back to China. Often they have difficulty adjusting to their new lives in their homeland. CC is one good example, but her problem mainly comes from social issues, and her coworkers don't cause her trouble. She's a senior manager. Rong is different. He is having trouble getting along with his coworkers and his boss, so he asks me for advice. Surprisingly, I am considered a successful returnee among my peers as well as an expert on returnees issues since I did that big article on returnees that was reprinted several times by the Chinese media and on Chinese Web sites.

  "What's happened to me, Niuniu? I feel so isolated at my workplace," says Rong, as we sit in a teahouse. "I see certain problems with the way we do things at the office, so I point out that we do it differently back in the States. But they never take my advice, even though it is obvious that my way is better. It's like nothing I say is valid."

  "Well, it is not an easy task to blend back in to your own culture. If you want to be a successful returnee, there are some rules you will have to follow."

  Rong listens intently.

  "Rule Number One: Never construct a sentence starting with 'When I was in the United States…' People just don't like it. And, frankly, they don't care either. You will only distance yourself with such claims," I say, pretending to be a real expert.

  "I see. I didn't realize they didn't like that. I guess I need to keep a low profile."

  "Absolutely. Rule Number Two: Never drop English words into your conversation. And never ever ask someone, 'How do you say this in Chinese?'"

  "Why?" Rong looks puzzled, as this is something that he does often and without a second thought.

  "Even if you have honestly forgotten how to say something in Chinese, the locals tend to think you're faking it. They think you're just showing off and they'll resent it. Sure, they respect your education and experience in the West, but they don't like to have their noses rubbed in it. We are talking about proud, sensitive people. If you come across as too westernized, it can backfire."

  "Okay! I've got it. What else?"

  "Rule Number Three: Under no circumstances should you wear shorts to meet with your coworkers, even after work. Show them some respect."

  Rong looks down at his bare knees below his khaki shorts. "It seems to me that I have to make a few changes. But what about me, Niuniu? What if I don't feel that I am being respected?"

  "Okay. This is a tough one. You see, some Chinese think those who have returned to China came back only because they were losers in the West. So you have your work cut out for you. You might want to do some things to hint at your success. For example, you could place your UC Berkeley coffee mug on your desk."

  "Oh, that is too contrived," says Rong.

  "Okay, I've got a better idea," I say. "Next time you go back to California, see if you can attend one of those political fundraisers. If you can get someone to take a picture of you shaking hands with Governor Schwarzenegger, it may cost you a few thousand dollars, but it will be worth it in the long run. Hang the picture on your office wall and I am sure you'll see the difference immediately."

  "So, Rule Number Four: Display photos with big shots."

  "Exactly," I say, " Yale University has a China Law Center to train Chinese judges from China. In their brochure there is a photo of Bill Clinton with the center's director. You see, you're not alone, Rong. Even Yale needs help from big shots to promote their prestige in China."

  91 Dilemmas? Buddha Has the Answers

  Everybody has dilemmas. In a fast-changing society like China, life is a drama, filled with events that can only create new dilemmas. According to a recent survey, young Chinese from twenty-five to forty have seven major dilemmas stemming from some basic life choices or decisions.

  Highest on the list is actually a question that only applies to married couples: to have children or not? Beibei has been married for over seven years, but having children is a subject that has never entered her mind. Recently, she has taken a trip to the States. Upon returning, she tells everyone that she was surprised that each of the American families she visited had, on average, 2.4 children.

  Is it still correct to think that the Chinese are the most family-oriented people? Probably not. Beibei has her own theory. "My work is number one. I feel respected as a corporate president. To be respected is important. I doubt if my kid would respect me even though I gave all of my time to him. All my friends' kids are spoiled brats and I hate to see them. Another thing is that I need to look beautiful. Chinese women of my generation are so lucky because we can visit department stores, beauty salons, saunas, massage parlors, and gyms to make us look good. As long as I'm beautiful, men like me. I don't need the love of a child."

  Beibei might sound a bit selfish to me, who would love to have a few kids someday, but her selfishness is a trait shar
ed by many women. Like their male counterparts, these women learn to love and admire themselves so much that they often find one man's love is not enough, which points them toward another major problem, according to the survey: to take a lover or not? Should the society be more tolerant of married people who take lovers or should they be condemned? In China, arranged marriage was once the practice and true love was once brutally disregarded. Some say that Chinese adulterers are often torn between seeking their true love and remaining true to family obligations. The rising number of adulterous marriages reflects the emotional awakening of the middle class, and thus should be more accepted.

  The third dilemma among the young people is whether to work for a boss or be self-employed. Laid-off workers from the northeast tell young people that the iron rice bowl is broken and state-owned factories are no longer reliable. This is nothing new. But overseas returnees from Silicon Valley, whom young people admire so much, also send bad news home from other side of the world: big multinational corporations are not reliable either.

  So starting your own business and becoming self-employed grows into a popular goal. Lulu has recently resigned from her job and joined the be-your-own-boss trend. Lulu comforts herself. "Work according to my own schedule means flexibility and freedom." She wants to open a coffee shop but soon learns that getting loans from Chinese banks is very difficult. At the same time, Lulu also learns the hard truth, that being your own boss also means you have to pay for your own pension plan, as well as your own medical coverage and housing benefits.

  Lulu feels that only a handful of people, like Beibei, who have both the right connections and access to deep pockets, can benefit from opening their own business.

  The fourth dilemma concerns mainly young college graduates or those who have worked for a number of years in China: Should you go abroad for higher education or stay and climb up the corporate ladder within China? The foreign diploma fad has been around for years. Being referred to as "Dr. So-and-So" is considered flattering and trendy, especially when the degree comes from a Western country. But this honor comes at a very high cost. Nowadays, it's not uncommon for students to owe as much as $50,000 in student loans after graduation. Given the ample business opportunities that China provides for talented people, many young people believe it's more worthwhile to stay in China and accumulate wealth.