The meaning of Hai

The Japanese word hai translates to the English word yes. 

However, it can have a number of other possible connotations.  In her article for The Japan Times, Amy Chavez points out that hai can have a number of other meanings, including being used as a polite term of acknowledgement.

 

I learned the hard way of another meaning...

 

My first trip to Japan was to train the regional engineers in a new technology and discuss with them the global implementation plan, then work with them to develop a regional plan and timeline.  I had spent months developing both the training materials and a general project plan and timeline. 

 

Before traveling to the Asia-Pacific region, I had presented the plan to the North American and Latin American regional engineers.  It seemed to be well received and during the conference we were able collectively to pull together a high-level implementation plan and timeline for these two regions.  At the end of the conference as we wrapped up, I asked "can we do this?" and received resounding "YES" from the attendees.

 

So with two regions successfully on board with the migration plan, I headed off to Tokyo where I would be meeting with 100+ regional network engineers.

I asked "can we do this?" and heard "Hai",
leading me to believe they were onboard.

The training seemed to go well.  I exchanged business cards with most engineers asking them to call if they had any questions or anything unforeseen came up.  I heard hai from many of them so I assumed they understood an would contact me should they have any issues.  We spent the first two days in presentations of the new technology and doing hands-on conversions. When asked if they got it, again the response was hai. which I interpreted as meaning they understood the technology.

 

Then we spent two days working in country teams, each team putting together a plan for their country.  I went between teams, working with them as they laid out their plans, encouraging them to prioritize the work and develop aggressive timelines.  Then we met on the last day together again as a large group and went over the timeline.  I asked "can we do this?" and heard "Hai" from many of those attending. This lead me to believe they were onboard with the project.

 

Six months later, there was no progress in the Asia-Pacific region.  A year later, as the other regions were nearing completion, the technology head of the Asia-Pacific region contacted the global head of technology engineering, questioning the need and reasons for expending the manpower on the conversion.

 

The project in Asia was a failure.

What went wrong?  Technically, nothing.  Socially, everything.

 

First, I had not scheduled to meet in advance of the conference with the region's technology director to go over the plan, the need for it, and how he could benefit most from it.  In short, since I had a global mandate, I assumed everyone would be fully onboard with the program.

 

Second, I managed to insult most of the engineers present when I first met them. 

In America, we typically exchange cards with one hand and place the received card in our pocket or deck of cards with a brief glance, to be sorted and entered into a contact database later. 

In Asia, the exchange of business cards takes on many aspects of a ritual.  The card is presented two handed with the writing towards the recipient.  The recipient takes the card and comments about something on it - title, location, company, etc.  Then the recipient will reciprocate, presenting their card.

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It was several years before my next opportunity to work with colleagues from Japan.  On that next trip, I arranged to have breakfast with the regional manager right after arriving in Tokyo.  We exchanged cards, talked about our families, and he asked if I played golf.  When I acknowledged I did, he said to stop by his office before going into the meetings. 

I stopped by and stuck my head in.  He motioned me to close the door and sit.  First, he told me that he had rescheduled the first meeting, set for that morning (actually scheduled to start in a few minutes) until the afternoon.  He then began going through the information, including my presentations.  At the end, he asked me how I saw this benefiting the region in general and his engineers specifically.

All told, we spent over two hours together in that meeting.  At the end, he asked me to see his administrative assistant to have them extend my hotel stay and reschedule my flight.  As I did that, the admin asked me what my shoe size was and confirmed I was right handed. I asked why and over a shocked look I found out that Thursday (the day I was originally leaving) I would be playing golf with Mr. Tamuri and two others.  I was also asked to stop back by 10 minutes before the meeting, now scheduled for 1 pm.

At 12:50 I was at Mr. Tamuri's door.  He stood up and walked me to the conference center.  On the way, he asked me to wait outside the door for a moment until he called for me.  Then he proceeded to open the meeting and present the opening slides that explained what we were going to do and why.  Finally, he introduced me, informing the people attending that I had been sent at his request to aid the regional engineers in this project.  During the next three days we went over the plan and built a schedule. 

And not once was the word Hai spoken.

The engineers in Asia must have worked long hours and many weekends, because this project finished 7 weeks ahead of schedule,  and 3 weeks ahead of any other region.

So what does hai mean to me now?

Hai means I acknowledge you have spoken - nothing more.

 

Tuesdays in Manhattan

Starting in the fall of 2000, I began flying to Manhattan every Tuesday to attend meetings with my manager and with my direct reports. This became such a habit that over a decade later I can still remember the Tuesday routine:

• 4:30 am - wake up and get ready
• 5:30 am - leave the house to drive to Regan National
• 6:45 am - catch the Delta Shuttle to LaGuardia
• 8:30 am - breakfast with one of my directs
• 9:30 am - team meeting at 111 Wall
• 1:00 pm - lunch with my manager and peers
• 2:30 pm - management meeting
• 6:30 pm - flight back to Regan National
• 9:00 pm - home again

This continued week after week until the second week in September of the following year.  Monday night that week, my manger gave me a call and let me know that he was feeling under the weather and since two of my peers were also going to be out, I shouldn't come up.

This was the first Tuesday in close to a year that I was going to be able to sleep in!!  In fact, since I always went to Manhattan on Tuesday, I decided I would hold the meeting with my directs as a teleconference at 9:00am from the den in my home. 

Ah, sleep in;
       wander downstairs in my sweats, pour a cup of coffee;
       watch a little of the Today Show;
       and around 8:45 am open the phone bridge for the conference call...

Everything was going according to plan, until:

 

I closed the conference bridge and immediately dialed NormaJo, whose office was in 111 Wall.  While I was on the phone with her, I heard a very loud noise.  About 15 seconds later, the Today Show broadcast the second plane hitting.  NormaJo told me outside her window it was black, with lots of paper flying through the air.  I asked if she was alright? Did it look like anyone was hurt?  I asked her to keep the line open and gather her team. Once they were together, I asked for two volunteers to stay until the next shift came on and sent the rest home.

 

For the next hour I watched the news, first in shock, then with gathering sorrow.  By the time the second tower came down, I was in tears.  After that first call, I was unable to reach anyone outside of the DC area.  No phone calls, no Blackberry messages.  By 11:00 am I had to do something, so I pulled out the Continuity of Business plan (other companies may call it a disaster recovery plan) and decided that the best place I could be was our team's hot site in Delaware. 

 

I spent the day in Delaware, unaware of what was happening beyond what was on the news.  Around 6:30 word came out that the state governors were considering closing the state borders as far south as Maryland, so if I wanted to get home I should go.  That was the longest drive.  Not because of the time it took, but because I was alone with my thoughts and fears for those I worked with in New York and their families.

 

The two volunteers that stayed behind at 111 Wall did not know at the time what they were volunteering for.  Lower Manhattan was closed, nobody was allowed in for days.  Those two dedicated employees lived with a small contingent of IT co-workers and a couple of cafeteria workers until Downtown was reopened.  I found out afterwards that at one point we had to request special permission to allow a fuel truck past the barricades  to replenish the tanks for the generators to keep the building power on.

 

I never did hear details of the days spent there.  When asked, anyone who was there would just say "We got by" or "It was OK I guess".  Those who stayed became my personal heroes from the day that changed America.

 

 



Stranger in a Strange Land

In my role as global head of Information Assurance, I had the opportunity to travel around the world.  On my first international trip, my mentor mentioned how he tried to schedule an extra day whenever possible to enjoy the sights.  I made a habit of this.  When traveling to a country where English was a first or second language, I had no trouble getting around.  In other countries, I would make a point of asking a local co-worker to show me the city. This worked out well on most occasions - until my Saturday in Sao Paulo, Brazil.

In Brazil, the primary language is Brazilian Portuguese with a few people speaking Spanish as a second language.  I speak American English with muy poco espanol (very little Spanish).  So Saturday my host had arranged for someone to act as tour guide for the city.  Needless to say, the person assigned did not show up.  So I decided to take my chances and explore the city on my own.

My first stop was the subway.  The map was probably fully comprehensible to local residents and probably to most Portuguese-speaking people.  To me, it was utterly incomprehensible.  There is no clear identification of any tourist attractions or points of interest.  Even entering the station, it was difficult to comprehend how to use the ticket machines. They were automated, and presented an option of Portuguese or Spanish.  The symbols and icons were just different enough from US counterparts as to be confusing.  After studying the machine for a number of minutes (and hearing comments from those in line behind me that I could not comprehend)  I decided to return to the streets.  There I wandered about, sightseeing as best I could.

I enjoyed the open air markets and was lucky enough to find one vendor who spoke English.  I still have a large piece of Emerald ore carved into an Indian head.

My experiences did not end there.  Walking up and down the street I passed a number of wonderful smelling restaurants and bakeries.  However, a bit of knowledge about local cuisine indicated that I would not know what I was getting and might find it less than palatable.  It is sad to say that I ended up dining at McDonalds on an extra value meal that I was able to order in Spanish by the numbers from the picture (ah numero dos grande por favor).

While the signage probably would aid most Brazilians in finding their way, I can honestly say that none of it provided decipherable clues that I could use.  It was an interesting lesson.  I would hope that as the world continues to shrink, more standardization takes place on icons and other forms of signage and devices. Likewise, creation of multi-lingual kiosks that can walk someone through the process of purchasing would be greatly advantageous.

After this trip, I have found that I have greater compassion for foreign travelers I meet in America, as that Saturday in Sao Paulo I gained a deep understanding of what it means to be a stranger in a strange land.