Agreements – understand-culture

Strange Black Man

It was many years ago. I was visiting my uncle who is a Jesuit priest and professor of Theology at Georgetown University in Washington D.C., where I attended. It was a brilliant day, sunny, warm, with a light breeze. Walking across Healy Circle, located at the front of campus, a smallish, skinny black man aged about twenty-five with a heavy backpack weighing him down approached me with a smile. I returned the smile, we greeted each other, he put down his load.

He was from a West African country, from which one I cannot remember. He spoke of the civil war there, the persecution of his tribe, family and of him, and of the good fortune he had in escaping it. How he made it to the U.S. I cannot recall either. He made a sincere and serious impression on me. I listened carefully to his story and felt empathy. The signals then became clear that he would ask me for some kind of help.

Roughly the same age, having recently gone into business for myself in Philadelphia, I was hardly in a position to do anything for him. We continued to talk. He then asked for help. Apologizing for not being able to, I gave him my business card and said: “Well, if you‘re ever in Philadelphia, let’s get together”, hoping it would be a friendly but clear way to remove myself from the conversation, and that he would understand that I cannot help him out of his difficult situation.

“A strange black man waiting at your door”

He studied the card carefully, then with a smile, he said “Thank you, John. Thank you very much”, in an English formal, polite, right out of the textbook he must have learned from many years before, and like so many well-educated Africans. We shook hands. I departed quickly so that he could not continue the conversation. I went on with my activities in the nation’s capital over the next day without ever thinking again about that West African.

Until I returned to Philadelphia, that is. At Ninth and Spruce Streets in Center City, as the Philadelphians call their downtown, is where I lived, in the third floor apartment under the roof of an old townhouse. One of my cousins, Helen, lived with her former college roommate in the apartment just below me. As I walked up the stairs, she opened the door ever so slightly, I suspect after having heard me open the front door. With wide and alarmed eyes Helen whispered: “John, there is a strange black man upstairs waiting for you in front of your apartment.”

A strange black man? I don’t know any strange black men. In fact, I don’t know too many black men at all. Well, I did after about ten more steps. “Oh, no”, I thought, my business card, damn. What do I do now? I put on a happy face, smiled, greeted him heartily and said something like “Great to see you, again. Come on in!” The stairs up to my loft apartment were very steep and narrow. He trudged up schlepping his heavy bag. What was I supposed to do with this guy?

Say “yes, mean no”

Many of the details I no longer remember. But I do recall that I took him out for dinner, gave him a brief walking tour of Center City including the historical sights, allowed him to sleep in my bed while I made do with the couch. The next day, after some breakfast, I drove him over to 30th Street Station and put him on an Amtrak train up to Boston, where he said he had some contacts from West Africa. I was happy to be rid of him.

His story was certainly bigger than mine. A refugee from civil war in a faraway land, seeking a safe and secure life in America. Hoping for help. From anyone. And my story? A safe and secure white American male with a solid education and the kinds of advantages and opportunities a “strange black man” from Africa could only dream of. Looking back, shameful of me.

But for us, as Americans and Germans collaborating across the Atlantic, this little story is about agreements, about how Americans will communicate a “yes” which is not meant as such. Since we seldom feel comfortable saying “no” to someone – a family member, friend, neighbor, colleague, certainly not to our boss or to a customer, or to a stranger – we find ways to say “yes” in a way which communicates “no.”

These were rather clear signals.

Why would this guy from West Africa suddenly show up at my door in Philadelphia, a three-hour train ride from Washington, DC? We don’t even know each other. We have nothing in common. We‘re strangers. In our conversation of a few days before I had given no indication that I was in a position to help him. On the contrary, my response to his request was crystal clear. It was short, polite, I gave him my card and got on my way, and rather hastily.

But wait! That’s American thinking. I did give him my card, and did show sincere interest in his situation, then did say to him: “Well, if you‘re ever in Philadelphia, let’s get together.” These were rather clear signals. But from whom and to whom? For any American witnessing the interaction the message was very straightforward: “I am sorry to hear about your plight, but I cannot help you. Good luck.”

But for a person from another culture? From his? Or from Germany? Why should my behavior and statements not be taken literally, sincerely, at face value? Or how about this question: Why would I not simply state what I was thinking – honestly, transparently, from the heart – by saying: “I am sorry to hear about your plight, but I cannot help you. Good luck.”

Well, I did, in fact, say that. In my way. In an American way.

What if …?

What would be the effects in the U.S. if over a three month period of time – a business quarter – all follow up was reduced by 50%? Ask any American colleagues, suppliers or customers you might have.

For some it would be a relief. Agreements would be entered into more carefully. The details would be discussed and settled more specifically. Individuals and organizations would find better, less intrusive, ways to remind themselves of their obligations. Especially those people who rely heavily on follow up – the worrisome ones – would develop better nerves.

For others it would be unimaginable. Why? Because they are among the worrisome, nervous, neurotic? Or because the very nature of their work involves many factors which can influence or alter an agreement at any time, factors which they can neither anticipate, predict nor manage?

The frequency, form, tone of follow up is much dependent on the very nature of the work. To understand this we need only to pose the What if question to a military commander in the field of battle, to the staff of a hospital‘s emergency room, to a trader on the floor of a stock exchange, to the head chef in a four-star restaurant, to the parent of young children on any given day of the week.

Maybe a 25% reduction would be more realistic.

W-Questions

Management training. In Germany’s. Thirty or so Germans in the room. We discuss the topic of agreements. They ask: “But Herr Magee, how do we know when an American ‘yes’ is a commitment?” My response: “Ask the famous w-questions: what, when, why, who, and of course, the how. The more specific the responses are, the higher the level of commitment.”

“Stop by next time you’re in town” is not an invitation, but a polite way of saying “It was nice meeting you. It would be nice if we ran into each other again.” Closer to a commitment would be: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my email address and work phone number.”

Even more committed would be: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my email address, work and cell phone number.” And the next level of commitment sounds like this: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my email address, work and cell phone number. When will you be coming through? Any chance you’ll be in the area in June?” And so on.

The more explicit (detailed) the information, the greater the commitment: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my address and home phone number. When will you be coming through? Any chance you’ll be in the area in June? If so, how about the weekend of June 12-13? We’re having a summer party at our place. We’d love to have you come by.”

“No!” So direct, hard, determined.

Aha! The German training participants get it. Many of them have been disappointed before. They thought Americans had broken commitments. Now they understand. Not Americans breaking their words. Not Americans as superficial. But, Americans who signal different levels of commitment.

Now they’re not as difficult to read. Simply ask questions which gain definition: “Sure. Love to come by and talk again. When were you thinking? I’ll be back in town at the end of next month. Should we check our calendars now or do you want to get back to me?”

Valuable. I helped them understand. But, what about me. An American, often unsure about how to react to the German no. It can come so fast, so hard, so definitive. It throws us off balance. Leaves a bad taste in our mouth. Sometimes we wish we had never asked.

A hand goes up. A big smile. He stands up. Six foot eight inches tall. Lean, fit, friendly. “Oh, that’s easy, Herr Magee. Just as we need to ask Americans the w-questions, Americans need to ask us Germans similar questions.” My eyes get big. Of course!

He continues. “See the German ‘no’ as a first response, but not firm. Identify its component parts, the reasons, for the ‘no’, then counter them one at a time. Give your counterpart good, logical reasons why his reluctance is unfounded.” All in the group nod as if so obvious, so self-stated.

Very valuable. He, they, helped me. It had never occurred to me. How blind I was.

Divulge Reveal Surrender

When it comes to minor decisions Germans rely on estimation. With major decisions they do in-depth research, gathering much information, analyzing it carefully. Like a detective who seeks out all possible pros and cons, especially indications of risk. To ferret out: search and discover through persistent investigation.

Anecdote: Independent of the topic or the purpose for the conversation, I have often had the impression that Germans are happy to let me talk at length, rarely interrupting. Perhaps while I am open and talkative. Perhaps because German politeness forbids interruption.

But, what if they simply want to get as much information out of me as possible without sharing any of theirs? Is it a game, a kind of sport? The German word preisgeben – Preis is price, award, prize. Geben to give – in other words divulge, reveal, surrender.

Anecdote: Interest unclear. Another train ride. Another major German company. This time just south of Frankfurt. I meet with a guy high up in corporate communications. He does not have much international experience. I’m not sure if he’ll understand what I am talking about, but he says that he is interested. We meet in the executive restaurant. Impressive. Excellent food. Excellent service.

We talk at length. His questions are short, my responses long, too long. His body language, especially his facial expressions, reveal little to nothing. Question after question, then my responses, but little indication whether he sees a need in the company.

Weeks go by. No response. I follow up. We meet again. The second lunch is like the first, but with more depth. Again, no concrete interest signaled. I don‘t request a third meeting. Perhaps a mistake on my part.

Figures of speech: Wer suchet, der findet. He who seeks will find. Wer es nicht im Kopf hat, hat es in den Beinen. Literally, those who don’t have it in their head, have it in their legs, meaning they will search until they find it.

Front-loading

Once Germans have made a commitment they begin immediately doing their part. And because they work independently, including little communication with the other parties to the agreement, it is essential that they have as much information upfront as possible.

Anecdote: Friendly interrogation. I take the train to Bavaria. A meeting with one of Germany’s largest multinational companies. Thusfar they are satisfied with my work. A new contact, high-level engineer, perhaps a new client.

We meet in his office, sit at a round table, drink tea. We talk. His questions are direct, precise, bordering on penetrating. The tone, however, is friendly, probing. Before I realize it an hour has gone by.

The questions keep coming, one after the other. About my background, methodology, how I execute seminars and specialized workshops. Then about my content, my research approach. What? How? Why?

Question after question, almost like an interrogation. He wants to understand. I become a bit fatigued, but remain fully focused, maintain eye contact, respond as precisely as my German language skills will allow. The meeting is tiring, he keeps me on my toes. At the same time the atmosphere is friendly, respectful, at a high level.

The German manager is above average in height, slender, his eyes sensitive, curious, listening. Not distrustful, skeptical but careful. In the weeks thereafter we would meet several times more. Each talk of lesser intensity. Then the decision. Positive. I went on to serve him and his organization for several years without interruption. Front loading.