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Let me say this about that.

If you have never worked outside the U.S., let me tell you that the most difficult part is not the strange food, the odd customs, the living conditions, or lax security.  It’s communication.  Even when your local contacts speak English, that doesn’t necessarily mean that there is real “communication” as I pointed out in last week’s ‘English for Brits’.

Some years ago, I was given corporate oversight responsibility for a 2,000 worker computer factory outside Sao Paulo, Brazil.  The daily operation was run by local Brazilians, but the corporation held me responsible for all strategic operations, and of course, meeting profit goals.

Something was always going wrong, so I spent considerable time on site.  During one trip, I went down to fix a production problem and, as was my custom, started with a meeting with Humberto, the local Brazilian plant manager.  I soon learned that his process engineer had overlooked a…    critical operation that was the root cause of the problem.

Shambo:  “So Humberto, what are you going to do about this engineer?”

Humberto:  “Nothing, senor Shambo.  But he is going to really fuk-us on this problem.”

Shambo:  “What?!?!  ‘Fuk-us?’  Wrong!  You’re going to fire this clown and fire him right now!”

Humberto:  “No, no, senor, we really need him to fuk-us as hard as he can.”

The plant manager was looking at me like I had lost my mind.  And then it hit me.

Shambo:  “Oh, you mean ‘FOCUS’!“

Humberto:  “Si, senor, ‘fuk-us’. “

I’m an idiot.

Some years earlier, I was in Hong Kong opening a new regional headquarters operation for a large U.S. communications company.  Around 1:00pm on my first day there, I asked my local Chinese manager if there was a good place for lunch nearby.

Chung:  “Yes, good place right down street.  We go ‘Sammy G’s place.”

Shambo:  “OK, what kind of food do they have at ‘Sammy G’s place?”

Chung:  “Sammy G’s”.

Shambo:  “I know, I know, Sammy G’s.  WHAT KIND OF FOOD DO THEY SERVE AT ‘SAMMY G’s?!?!”

Chung:  “Oh, understand now.  They have ham sammygees and cheese sammygees and chicken sammygees.”

More evidence that I’m an idiot.

In the early ’90′s, demand for ANY electronic product was exploding in Southeast Asia.  Pent-up demand for electronics forced most Asian governments to lower trade barriers that had kept out U.S. manufacturers.  I ran the Asian subsidiaries for a large U.S. communications company and spent most of my time flying from one country to the next just trying to keep up with demand.

Demand for communication equipment was especially high in Thailand and I had decided to expand our small 3-man sales force in Bangkok into a much more formidable 20 man operation.  We secured the required space in a new office building and were ready to begin our expanded operation.

My Thai sales manager called me a few days before we were to open and informs me that his Thai sales force would not work in an office that had not been blessed by Buddhist monks.  Moreover, it would be an insult to the monks if I did not attend the ceremony personally.  So, I fly to Bangkok and attend the six hour ‘anti-evil-spirit’ ceremony.  Try sitting cross-legged on the floor with half dozen Buddhist monks for six hours sometime - it was pure torture.

When the whole thing was over, my Thai sales manager said I looked like I needed a stiff drink and some dinner.

Chatpoon:  “Come, Mr. Shambo.  We go drink then we go eat.  But first we get you nookie.”

Shambo:  “Hold on there, Chatpoon, I genuinely respect your country’s customs.  After all, that’s why I came here in the first place.  But I’m a married man.  Even if I were single, Bangkok has a horrible reputation for HIV and AIDS.  Thanks, but I’ll pass on the nookie.”

Chatpoon:  “No problem.  Next time you come Bangkok, call and I bring you to new office.”

Shambo:  “Not necessary.  I can manage myself.”

Chatpoon:  “Is necessary, Mr. Shambo.  You have no ‘new key’ for new office.”

Certified idiot.

And, that’s all I have to say about that.

Shambo