The Business Offer

Pesky company business was interfering with my plans and wreaking havoc with my trip. An extremely complicated customer request had activated our company’s process genes. Meetings, con-calls and reviews were scheduled with no understanding whatsoever of the consequences (e.g. time zones) of the spheroid shape of the planet. Critical conferences were routinely scheduled for midnight or 1:00AM Hong Kong time. My boss called demanding an explanation.

“It is all my fault.” I confessed. “I am trying to do something different.”

“Different? Why would you…”

“Our marketing materials say that customers can purchase technology as if it were a utility: paying for what they use and only when they use it.”

“That’s just marketing, Dan..”

“The customer believed it.”

“What?! How could you let that happen?”

The challenge was clear: Naively, I was trying to deliver what was promised in the advertisements. Naturally, this unprecedented approach attracted the risk assessment subcommittee of the Business Avoidance Division (BAD).

“Your proposal, Dan,” one call began, “is untenable. It requires a coordinated response from our Financial Services, Storage, Technical Support, Software, Consulting and Outsourcing units.”

“The customer wants a solution.”

“And you expect to deliver it in North America, Europe, Asia and Austraila.”

“The customer wants a global solution.”

As it began to look like we might actually sell this, internal activity accelerated – sucking time and generating work. The risk assessors demanded ever-increasing detail and mitigation processes. Their objective was to raise the price so high that the customer wouldn’t buy the solution. (No Sale, No Risk.) At the same time, business managers who had been hostile to the approach began to realize that they would look like nay-saying fools if the customer actually bought the solution. As a result, a concerted effort to ‘help’ (i.e. ‘claim credit’) ensued. All of this resulted in a plethora of phone calls. Thus, I shouldn’t have been surprised at 3:00 AM when the iPhone began to emulate Big Ben.

Note: I just like the photo, I don't think it has anything to do with the posting

I'm practical

“Why do you always make ‘the Darius character’ look bad, Dad?”

“Why do you ask, Darius?” I replied.

“People will think that the only thing I can do is lose things.”

“Well - you did leave your shoes in Iceland..”

“Dad…”

“And you mobile phone and the pillow and..”

“Please make Melika the star of this episode.”

“Sounds fair to me,” I replied. “I’ve just finished a telephone conversations which may provide material,” I thought. Melika had volunteered information:

“Darius is helping me with economic advice, Dad.”

“Really? How is it going?”

“It is very complicated, Dad…”

“You’re a lawyer, Melika. You revel in complication.”

“I know, Dad. But, as a first step, I like to simplify things.”

“I see.”

“I think Darius is saying that the general idea is to try to arrange it so that, eh, I spend less each month than I earn.”

“What a unique idea.”

“Unique and implausible, Dad.”

“I agree that it would be a life-style altering approach for you, Melika.”

“That what I told him, Dad: I was like, ‘Get real, Dar.’ I'm not sure that he appreciated it. I mean, I am practical, Dad, but…”

“Practical, Melika? You got a dog.”

Too many.....

I was trying to get to my meeting in South Mumbai. The car wasn’t moving and there wasn’t much to look at. In fact, I tried to avoid looking out because professional beggars were scratching at the window. “These people are so different,” I thought. Satish, my driver, wasn’t amused either.

“Politicians do nothing for the people,” he opined.

“We’re not so different,” I thought. “Politician-bashing is a universal human activity.”

“Seven million people move into the city to work every day,” Satish continued.

“They don’t look like they’re moving, Satish.” I replied. “7 million people,” I thought. “It’s like the entire population of Switzerland driving into one city.”

“They don’t all drive, sir. Some take the train.”

“Too many cars, Satish.” I replied.

“Too many cars. Too many people. Too many languages. Too many religions…..”

“My driver is a philosopher,” I thought.

“… too many problems.”

“And a realist,” I concluded.

Note: The photo directly shows two of the three types of taxis. The third type is a blue ‘cool’ taxi – i.e. air conditioned. (You can see one in the background.) I was in a car arranged by the hotel. (I hope the company pays my expense claim.)

Jellyfish and Chicken Feet

I am trying to nourish my customer relationships in Asia-Pacific. To that end, I invited them to join me for lunch. They suggested a nearby Chinese Eatery.

“What would you like?” Richard asked.

“I’m not particular,” I replied. “I can eat anything.” (“Except cucumbers,” I thought.)

“Be careful about what you say,” Richard replied. “You are in China.”

“Good point,” I said. “I can eat anything normal.”

“I understand,” Richard replied. Then he ordered the starter: jellyfish.

“What does this taste like?” I asked.

“Cucumber,”

“Wonderful,” I thought.

“Actually, there’s not much taste. You have to dip in garlic and soy sauce.”

It looked, well, it looked like a blob of gelatine. It was, however, crunchy and, with the garlic, somewhat tasty. I politely demurred on the chicken feet option.

Hong Kong is a very dynamic city. They continue to reclaim land from the harbor and building construction hasn’t diminished. Many banks are moving to a new facility that is being erected on the Kowloon (mainland) side of the harbour. Interestingly, even though the building is not finished, tenants have already occupied into the bottom 30 floors.

The economic situation has a positive side here. The skies were actually blue. The last time I saw something like this in Hong Kong was 1993.

The Monsoon

Before coming to India, I used the internet to identify the important sights in Mumbai. It was, interestingly, a difficult search. According to Google, none of the zillion pages and websites on the internet contains information about ‘must see’ sights in Mumbai. If I don’t want to see a Bollywood production site or visit a modern (i.e. ‘western’) shopping mall – well…

Having a free day – Sunday – at my disposal, I decided to arrange my own tour. I checked with the concierge.

“You want to take a city tour?” He appeared to be incredulous.

“Yes.” I should have detected the scepticism.

“I will arrange a car and driver….”

“An air-conditioned car,” I interjected.

“Of course, sir.”

In my experience, most city tour guides focus on the good parts of the location. (Most, not all: the tour guide in Palermo, Sicily showed us bombed out buildings from World War II.) The Mumbai excursion began at the JW Marriott Hotel in North Bombay. We drove past what I would call slums. People were living in shacks made of sheet metal or living under a tarpaulin stretched across a couple of poles. Every part of the city was dirty – garbage in the streets and bricks, tiles, cans, etc. piled up everywhere. The number of really poor people was astonishing. The city has a population of somewhere between 15 and 20 million. There is no rapid transit system. Public conveyance is a mixture of three wheel motorcycle taxis, 15 year-old Fiat taxis (100,000 of them), ‘cool taxis (i.e. 'air-conditioned) and a variety of overcrowded buses. Believe it or not, however, all of the taxis are powered by LNG, so they don’t pollute. (There are plenty of people, however, to take up the slack.)

The first stop on the tour was the outdoor laundry. 10,000 people work in this huge site, a service dominated by about 500 families. They heat the water, bash the items against stones and then hang it out to dry. (See photo.)

Dry, of course, is a relative word. The weather was humid and hot when I arrived. However, the Monsoon was running late – a situation that is not good news for the farmers. Luckily, I had a solution.

“You want rain?” I asked.

“We need the rain.”

“You have come to the right place, my friend.” I replied. “I am an expert in rain generation. When I got to Hong Kong, the typhoon arrived. Whenever I return to Zürich, thunderstorms begin. Your Monsoon will arrive before the day is out.”

Just to be sure, I noted the large outdoor swimming pool at the hotel. This was the first time I’d seen a pool large enough to do laps. Naturally, I went to my room and collected my swim suit. The rain started before I could make it back to the pool.

Visiting Asia

Please forgive the delay in posting. I am in the middle of a trip to Asia and in the middle of a complex deal with my employer.

Trip preparation took place in the customary way. After examining flight possibilities that the travel division might choose, I invented, eh, I discovered an urgent need to be in Singapore at 6:00 AM. This meant that I would be unable to travel cramped class on our normal airlines and would, instead, be forced to use a Singapore Airline flight. Amazingly, the travel division bought this proposal. The flight was smooth, and my seats (all three of them) were spacious. I arrived as refreshed as possible after a 12 hour flight.

After a nap, I met David, our account manager for Asia-Pacific who is based in Singapore. I noted that the airline and hotel were great. David was quick to reply.

“This is not London, Dan. London is too expensive. What do they make in the UK to justify the high costs?”

“Money, David. They make money.”

“Not any more. And I hate the London hotels. Too expensive!”

“Well..”

“And the rooms are small, the TV has only 4 channels, the beds are old..”

“Antique, David.”

“And the linen is moldy.”

“I can see why you’re living in Singapore, David.”

The Singapore portion of the trip went well. Now I am in Hong Kong – hence the picture.

Swiss Appliances

A few weeks ago, the Casa Carmen Refrigerator demanded its quarterly defrost. (It seems like it needs a quarter hourly defrost.) Nazy and I were naturally concerned…

“… for the safety of the planet, my dear,” I explained.

“The safety of the planet? Surely you exaggerate, Dan.” Nazy replied.

“If we let this ice,” I said, hauling a Rhode Island-sized berg toward the front door. “If we let this ice melt down the drain, Lake Zürich will flood and, when the overflow reaches the Atlantic, it will be just as if the Greenland icecap had melted. The Gulf Stream will be diverted and..”

“That’s absurd..”

“We have friends who live in coastal areas. We have friends in Holland. Do you want to be responsible for a disaster?”

Nazy wasn't convinced and somehow planetary destruction was averted. This week, it was the washing machine that demanded attention. It began with a simple assertion from Nazy:

“There’s a puddle on the floor.”

“I didn’t do it, Nazy.” I replied – confidently.

“Did you overload the machine?”

“No. Did you check the filter?”

“Did you fail to slide the soap dispenser all the way in?”

“Did you neglect the auxillary lent removal device?” I had quick retorts.

“No. Did you, Dan, empty your jeans pockets before loading the washer?”

“Oops,” I thought. “I will clean the filter.”

The mechanism has many filters, but the one in question is located a tenth of a millimetre from the floor. Before it can be accessed and cleaned, the pre-filter retaining flask must be drained. This is done by deftly removing a micro-clamp from a straw-sized, flexible, plastic pipe and directing the flow into a shallow collection container. As you can undoubtedly imagine, several cycles are required before the water is evacuated. Only then can the filter be unscrewed, cleaned and replaced – while you are crawling on the floor.

I performed all of these actions flawlessly and without complaint.

Spousal Interrupt

“Flawlessly, Dan? You dripped water all over the floor.

“How can you tell, Nazy? That’s the same puddle that you saw in the first place.” “And,” I thought, “that’s the puddle that provoked the work.”

“Without complaint, Dan? You muttered incomprehensively the whole time you were working on the filter.”

“Incomprehensively,” I thought. “Thank God.”