anecdote

Is it even possible to translate into English the German word Entscheidungsverständnis? Decision making philosophy, is what most Americans would say. But, that’s puffy, cloudy. Americans us the term ‘philosophy’ often to mean ‘way of thinking’.

Literal, and more exact, would be ‘understanding of the decision to be made’, from Entscheidung, decision + verständnis, understanding of. The verbs are entscheiden, to decide, and verstehen, to understand. Only very few Americans, however, would use that kind of formulation, ‘understanding of the decision to be made’.

In any case, the American colleagues in the breakout (group work in a management seminar) did not ask themselves about their Entscheidungsverständnis. Instead, they rather quickly defined what kind of used car they were looking for (the question posed to them in the exercise). There were three, perhaps four key factors. That was enough. They moved on immediately to the next assignment in the exercise.

Germans believe that the best path to an optimal decision is first of all to nicht vom Zaun brechen, which is translated literally into “not break out or through the fence”, meaning to think first, then decide, then act. To reflect. Because decisions mean change, they are inherently involve risk. A good Entscheidungsverständnis minimizes risk. It should not be a surprise, therefore, that Americans often give Germans the impression that they tend to move forward too aggressively, impetuously, forcefully.

Americans can come across as not having understood, much less thought through, the complexity of the situation. Especially when it comes to decisions which have far-reaching consequences, the aggressive, impetuous and forceful American approach unsettles their German colleagues. They fear that the Americans are actions are naive, even irresponsible.

Mit dem Kopf durch die Wand – literally with the head through the wall, or forcing things – is how Germans can see Americans. Objectively this is the case quite often. Subjectively certainly very often. The Americans in the breakout group write their flip-charts quickly, but just as quickly tear them down and rewrite or toss them into the corner. Americans like to decide and move fast, change situations and create new ones. They take the initiative in order to ‘stay ahead of the power curve’, to ‘set the agenda’.

Difficult, complex and controversial events

But, is this unfamiliar to the Germans? Haven’t they had their own experiences with the advantages and disadvantages of such national cultural character traits? The German people has a highly developed historical consciousness. Many of their experiences as a people were painful, have made a deep impression on them. 

When the Germans raise their Zeigefinger, their index finger pointing out something important (yes, often in a know-it-all way) it is in most cases because they do know better (at least for themselves, from their perspective). At a minimum they see a situation which they have experienced themselves. And as Germans they are seldom reluctant to point out these (their) lessons to other people.

I had hardly gotten into a conversation with a good German friend of mine. We were talking about everyday topics, nothing terribly deep. A friend of his joined us, a journalist, a women he had known for many years. She – let’s call her Beate – switched the topics of the conversation to politics, her area of focus. Wasting no time she brought up the most difficult, complex and controversial events. Back then I was a member of the professional staff of the Christian Democrats in the Bundestag, the majority party under then-Chancellor Helmut Kohl. Beate had returned from Southern Africa just a few months before. I had not known her or of her. In the years after that conversation I would see her in television, hear her on the radio, read her articles in newspapers. Very intelligent. Very well-informed. Very active mind.

I was tired. It had been a long week. The initial topics of my chat with my friend were light, casual, pleasant. Beate wanted, however, to get serious. She started off describing the monumental mistakes the Clinton administration had made in Somalia. With her experience in Africa, and in Somalia, it was clear that the American approach would be a total failure.

I tried to steer the conversation back to the lighter topics. Beate just could not let go, however. Puffing away at her cigarettes I was engulfed in smoke and getting dizzy. She fired question after question at me about American foreign policy. Time and again I sent signals communicating: “Please, not now, another day. We don’t even know each other. Do I have to answer personally for my country’s actions abroad?” Beate made everything so complex. She was giving me a headache. It was a very unpleasant evening.

A factory in the Eastern part of Westphalia

I think of my fellow American, the soldier, dead and dragged by a rope naked through the streets of Mogadischu, his body mocked, derided and spat upon by the population. I think of his parents, his siblings and friends, especially of his mother. I think no less sadly of the man (the picture of him) in the second Iraq War, a father carrying on each should the bodies of his dead boys, each around five years old. We see him from behind.

Those little boys can’t move, they won’t ever move. I imagine their father’s heart as he heaves his boys on his shoulders, his heart as he lays them in simple wooden boxes, then lowers those boxes into the earth, his heart when he then goes home. He’ll never hear their voices again. My son, Daniel, was nine years old back then. Evenings, after dinner, he climbs up on my back. Piggyback we call it in English. I carry him up the stairs. Abendroutine, evening routine. Pajamas. Brush teeth. Wash face. Hop in bed. I read to him. Abendroutine here in Bonn, Germany. A German boy with an American father. Safe, secure, happy and healthy.

I see in my mind’s eye a factory somewhere in the Eastern part of Westphalia. The niece of my German wife’s grandfather. He was from Herford, not far from Hanover, a pilot in the Luftwaffe. Early in the Second World War in France, a part of the occupation forces. Then in the East, fighting the Russians. Prisoner of war. He returned to Germany in 1949, a broken man. My wife’s grandmother said of her husband that he had believed in German victory up until the very end. 

She told the story only once of his niece. She must have worked in an armaments factory. I never asked. Tears worked their way carefully down her cheeks as she talked, her eyes fixed on a far-off point. Allied bombing one day. Direct hits. The mother of the young woman, the sister-in-law of my German wife’s grandmother, ran to the factory. Everything destroyed. She found her daughter. Her tender, youthful body ripped open by a steal beam.

Yes, it was a very unpleasant evening with Beate, but primarily because we’re far more different than we realize. In fact she is a very nice, intelligent, hard-working German journalist, who, like all of us, would like the world to be different, better. A woman who adopted a young African girl and is raising her alone. Beate is a fighter for the right cause. And there are others, like the late Peter Scholl-Latour, who in the months leading up the Second Iraq War was in the German media doing his best to warn of its risks: explaining, seeking, describing, questioning. Out of concern.

Long, detailed discussions about decision-making

Scholl-Latour was a prolific journalist and author about the Middle East. His early years, however, were spent first fighting in the Indochina (Vietnam) war, then covering it as a journalist when the U.S. had entered it in a serious way. Not a know-it-all but a concerned German, whose fears were based on experience and knowledge. One who is trying to say to his friends (to Americans): “Dear Friend, don’t do it. Think about what you learned forty years ago. Don’t repeat that mistake, please.”

To be called naive in the German context is very serious. It means a significant deficit in intelligence. It means not being in touch with reality. Naivité in the U.S. context, however, can be interpreted as positive. Young. Fresh. Optimistic. Full of initiative. Ready to learn. Willing to make decisions. Amerikaner sind wie große Kinder. Americans are like big children. How often I’ve heard this in my years in Germany. I understand how and why Germans make such a statement.

Systematic thinking is one of the strongest of German character traits. It‘s a red thread woven in and through all of the topics CI addresses.

I think of the many Germans in my seminars and workshops. I observe their tendency time and again. I separate the Americans and the Germans into separate breakout groups, pass out their assignments. They have an hour and a half to think, discuss and prepare their presentation on flip-charts, after which they give their presentations and discuss.

The breakout. What do the Germans invariably do? They get very quiet, focused, read the assignment carefully, ask me clarification questions. No detail is unimportant. After they have taken whatever amount of time is needed to read and reflect, they begin to discuss among themselves: respectful, quiet, their body language still. They listen attentively to each other, seldom interrupt. I observe, listen in, stand nearby in case they need help.

Germans analyze from 30k foot perspective

Even though I know how the Germans will proceed, it surprises me, nonetheless. It is foreign to me. It impresses and fascinates me still. The atmosphere in their breakout groups is like a graduate- or Ph.D.-level seminar at an elite university. It could be either in the natural sciences or in the humanities. Or perhaps business students analyzing a case study or mathematicians attacking a problem cracked centuries ago.

Maybe they’re students of theology or history studying the political ramifications of Martin Luther and the 97 theses he nailed to the door of the church in Witterberg in 1517. Perhaps they’re psychology students working on a particularly complex patient to be handled a day later.

The scenario is unimportant, the approach taken by the Germans is always the same. First they get (common) clarity on the case study I have given to them. Then they define the key terms. The scope is then discussed. After that they address approach and method. Then they finally get to the substance.

Isn’t that the case in so many situations in Germany? Analyze the topic from the so-called thirty thousand foot perspective. Identify the key factors in play. Pay attention especially to the interdependencies, the mutual influences. Then slowly but surely, carefully and focused, address the substance.

Like in early versions of Google Earth after one has typed in the address. You start out way up in space. See the Earth as a planet, then the continents. The globe rotates a bit. You recognize immediately if you are zooming down in the right direction. You go further down, stopping and starting as you wish, to get oriented. It’s just a matter of clicks, moving in and directly, north south east or west. Constantly seeing things from different perspectives.

Not without problems, not without mistakes

I imagine, as a metaphor, how much Germans would like to alter the code within Google in order to determine how quickly it zooms. They would slow it down, I suspect, whereas Americans, again metaphorically speaking, would not be interested in that in the least, instead switching to another website while Google completed the zoom-in.

I think of the English word circumspection, from Latin circum + specere via French into the English of the 15th Century: to look around, be cautious, to consider all circumstances and possible consequences, to be prudent. I see my German seminar participants in their work group with their handouts. They’re careful. Want to do things right, and not just avoid making mistakes.

Do things right, what is right, for themselves and their colleagues. Remember, we‘re talking about two of the most capable peoples on this planet, the German people and the American people. Both have demonstrated that their approaches to solving the fundamental challenges to any society work. Not without problems, not without mistakes, but they work, and work well.

Doing alters, a given situation

And some of their mistakes were serious, gravierend (grave). Mistakes made by both sides, not just by the one. Both peoples want to do things right, and to do the right thing. Verantwortungsvoll. Verantwortung – responsibility + voll, full. Which of the respective approaches is better, more appropriate, superior, is not our topic here. Such questions can only be based on very concrete and specific situations. Even in such, it is difficult to answer the question in a definitive way.

The Germans focus on the consequences of their decisions. They think several steps ahead. They try to anticipate if you wiggle in one area where it will waggle in another. They are well aware that decisions lead to action. Things are set in motion. Doing creates, or at least alters, a given situation (reality), and not always in a positive way.

Back to our breakout groups in the workshop. Americans very seldom discuss the deeper meaning of a decision to be made. If, however, such a discussion does take place then it‘s focused on the purpose of the decision, on whom it serves and how.

Nor do Americans spend much time considering a decision to be made in its broader context. They think more particularistic than systematic. Their approach to decisions is motivated primarily by pragmatism. Americans orient themselves on concrete decisions and actions. They are focused on decisions which lead to actions, which, in turn, require further decisions.

In addition, Americans do their best to avoid over-interpreting or -analyzing a decision to be made. Absolutely critical is maintaining forward movement. Individual decision makers seldom have the mandate, much less the inclination, to discuss and debate the philosophical meaning of a decision to be made. They want to maintain momentum.

Germans and Americans together against the competition

Breakout. The Americans read the assignment quickly (perhaps hastily), then begin to discuss it, but without taking too much time. Once they‘re in agreement what it is all about they choose a colleague to write the flipcharts, and they‘re off and running. They think aloud, brainstorm, ideas are written down: open, free, creative, for German eyes and ears an unstructured discussion.

Words and phrases are thrown up on the flipchart, perhaps a stick figure, a drawing, whatever works. Just as quickly, though, these are revised, crossed out, some pages ripped off the stand, rolled up into a ball and tossed into the corner. The Americans keep going, discussing, debating, writing down.

In this concrete case we‘re talking about a breakout group, in an integration workshop, in an American company which had been acquired by a German company, in a sector of the world economy in which the competition does not wait around for Germans and Americans to come to agreement on how they‘ll work together.

No time for contemplating things from 30k feet

Everyone participating, the consultant included, needs to move quickly (but not hastily) and intelligently. The participants are investing valuable time. They need to understand the complex cultural differences, how these affect their collaboration, then together define that collaboration. 

This is reality, not theory. There is no time for contemplating things from 30k feet. The battle is taking place on the ground, not in the clouds. Germans and Americans together in that battle against their competition, solving problems, serving customers.

Decisions are always local, specific and concrete. Americans strive to break down complexity into its component parts, in order to make those decisions. Deciding and acting are synonyms. Decisions lead to action. Action lead to new situations, which demand more decisions. And action always influences (changes) reality, its parameters, that which is to be decided.

The Fall of 1981. My first time in Germany. Blaubeuren, a small town in Swabia. South of Stuttgart. I had signed up for a ten-week intensive course in German at the Goethe Institute. Grundstufe III (Base Level 3). My German back then weak, my memories of Blaubeuren today strong. I will never forget the very first impressions of Germany. The coolness and almost sweetness of the early morning air. The damp lawns and fields. The intense autumn colors of the foliage in a town nestled in the Swabian Alb. The schoolchildren hustling off to school.

The fascinating, yet mysterious, Benedictine Monastery from the 11th Century. The Blautopf (literally blue pot or kettle), a large natural pool of deeply dark water giving access to a complex network of waterways under the hills surrounding Blaubeuren, with its age-old legends of mystery. The Swabian dialect of the region, a version of German I could only rarely understand. The wonderful baked goods I enjoyed each and every day after lunch.

Important in Germany is not to stick out too much. Is it because they don’t want to make others envious? Or because one should demonstrate how to maintain balance, not get a “big head”? Or demonstrate a proper balance between individualism and belonging to a group, whose help one may need at any time?

Keep the subjective and personal to a minimum

Whether giving presentations in grammar school, in high school or at the university level Germans train, practice and stress over and over again objectivity: stick to the facts, no emotions, avoid gaps in your argumentation, be so comprehensive that hardly any questions are necessary in the question and answer part after your presentation.

You see it in German resumés (curriculum vitae). Factual. Unemotional. Objective. No holes in the educational and professional background. Anticipate all the questions a potential employer might ask. Subjective and personal information is kept to a bare minimum. Adding things such as interests or hobbies is a new trend, imported from the U.S. and not a part of the German logic.

Das, was möglich ist, streben wir an.“ Literally: That which is possible we strive for. In a deeper sense: We always strive for the optimum.

„So gut wie möglich, nicht so gut wie nötig.“ Literally: As good as possible, not as good as necessary. In a deeper sense: As good as humanly possible or as good as we can possibly to do it, and never only as good as it needs to be, or not just as good as the customer has ordered it.

I look at my talking points on the topic of product philosophy. German logic: Products have intrinsic functionality. The optimal is oriented (aimed, pointed at) the ideal. American logic: For the buyer, the optimal is the product which offers the best value; for the seller, the optimal is the product which is most profitable. Two different worlds, is my impression. Germans and the ideal. Americans and the transaction.

Technical miracles. Practically no cost.

I think of Skype calls from my computer. On the computer screen I see my mother in suburban Philadelphia, far away from Bonn, Germany. What a technical miracle. In my early years in Germany, 1988 in then West Berlin, we would talk once a month by phone. A collect call via the German telepone operator. Today, any time during our overlapping waking hours from my computer or smartphone, as long as I have access to the web. And at practically no cost.

I see my mother‘s face on the screen. The camera on my laptop is above, at the top. But I can‘t look at her and into the camera at the same time. We can‘t look each other in the eyes. I move my eyes up and down, to look into her eyes, and to allow her to look into mine. Both at the same time is not possible, however. It‘s either or.

That‘s my image for how I believe Germans see the customers. Germans who serve customers, who have customers in the forefront of their minds. Germans in R&D, in product development, in sales or marketing, or Germans in services, or those responsible for strategy.

Germans want to serve the customer.

Yes, they are looking at and listening to the customer. On the screen. Just about fully focused. Taking in, understanding, preparing themselves to respond to the customer‘s needs, problems, wishes, challenges. But they – the Germans – also look time and again upwards, above, beyond, I think towards the ideal.

In other words, they listen not exclusively to the customer, but also, in addition to, the customer, above and beyond, towards the ideal. Yes, Germans want to serve the customer. And the strength of the their economy is proof that the German people knows how to listen to, understand and serve customers.

But they aim higher, strive for further, confident that doing so will guaranty that their customer‘s needs will be satisfied, almost as a byproduct, automatically. In fact, I have always sensed that Germans serving their customers, their markets, resist limiting what they can do by mere customer requirements. They are constantly alternating between looking at the person on the computer screen during the skype talk – as a metaphor – and looking into the camera, above the screen so to speak, and searching for the ideal.

American engineers as problem-solves and businesspeople

And yes, there is the danger that in doing so they do not fully listen to the customer, that their response to the customer is not exactly what the customer wanted or expected, that the customer feels not listened to, not understood, not served. And yes, there is the danger that they over-serve their customers, providing more that was requested or needed, or what the customer is willing to pay for.

And the American approach? Different. Not totally so, but often in a nuanced way. Americans, too, are capable and willing to aim for the ideal, to look beyond the customer. At the same time they feel more comfortable with staying focused on looking at the screen, listening very carefully to how the customer defines their needs and wants, to allowing the customer to define what the ideal is.

Whereas the German is engineer is part inventor and part artist – at it is the German engineer who is at the heart of German products – the American engineer is part pragmatic problem-solver and part businessperson (even salesperson). This difference is true not only for the engineers on both sides of the Atlantic, but for both cultures in general.

Go beyond what I was requesting

Americans fear that their German colleagues don‘t fully focus on the customer. Their German colleagues, in turn, fear that the Americans focus only on the customer. It becomes more complex, and difficult to reconcile and manage, depending on from which business culture the customer comes, whether Germany, the U.S. or another.

Recently I recognized that my website needed to be modified. I identified those changes through input from users and from a few trusted advisors. I then defined them in terms of scope, budget and schedule. In each of my talks with web agencies here in Bonn the tendancy was strong to go beyond what I was requesting, what I needed. The Germans, all very capable, wanted to go deeper, broader, more systematically. I had to slow them down, remind them of the defined limits.

Perhaps they wanted to convince me to give them a bigger mandate, a bigger contract. Perhaps, but not necessarily. More likely, they were looking beyond me on the computer screen, in the skype call, figuratively speaking. Each time I had to pull them back.

„That‘s too much for now. It exceeds scope and budget, and will take too long.“ But, maybe they‘re right. They‘re the experts. It is I who need them, as much as they need me.

It was more than a decade ago, but I can remember the scene as if it were last week. A workshop for a German multinational with a large and critical presence in the U.S. The participants were Germans and Americans. Two full days, in a seminar hotel, away from phones, computers, all the action.

An American colleague stood at the front presenting his breakout groups results. An interesting guy, mid-30s, average height, shaved head, wiry, glasses, super intensive eyes, especially when he speaks, almost a bit manic. In the heat of discussion you never knew if he would pounce on you like a cat or suddenly break into a broad smile, sink into his chair tossing his head back, laughing loudly.

I can’t remember what exactly the topic was. Not important. But his German colleagues saw things differently. They had presented before him. Their flipcharts hung on the wall. He – the Cat – responded to each and every one of their questions, doing his best to persuade them of his point of view. Again and again he stressed “we need to orient ourselves clearly on the needs of our customers. If you folks (he meant his German colleagues) would simply understand that, things would go much better on this project.”

In fact, somewhere on each of his flipcharts he stated this point: “listen to customers” or “meet needs” or “respond to concerns.” When he then, during his presentation, made this point for the fifth or sixth time, a German colleague erupted. A similar kind of guy. Average height, perhaps a bit shorter. Slender. Discreetly expressive, kind of like a Jazz musician who while playing thinks hard about what notes to play, all the while maintaining a totally relaxed demeanor. Focused, intense, but relaxed. You don”t see that combination too often in Germany.

“The question is how we do it, how we actually do the work!”

This guy had lived and worked in the U.S. before, for many years. He had a healthy, balanced, fair relationship as a German with the U.S., its people and culture. Both of these guys – Catman and Jazzguy – were friends, too, interacting on a daily basis across the Atlantic.

Jazzguy looked at his American friend, smiled, grabbed his own head with both hands, then said: “Catman, just because you and your American colleagues write on all your flipcharts, and just because you state again and again, that we have to orient ourselves on the needs of the customer, does not mean that you Americans actually do it! And just because we Germans don‘t write this on all of our flipcharts, and don’t state it over and over again, doesn’t mean that we Germans don’t do it!”

Jazzman did not state this in a mean way. On the contrary, he was smiling sincerely the entire time. His message was: “Catman, we don’t need to waste time discussing the goal, which is to serve the customer. That is obvious, it is self-stated in all that we do, including what we are doing here. The question is how we do it, how we actually do the work!”

Jazzman simply wanted to go deeper into what it means to serve the customer. Again, I do not think that Americans are less intelligent than Germans. Maybe a different kind of intelligence, a different approach to doing things intelligently. But the Jazzman’s message was very insightful.

And I have so often experienced this here in Germany, with the Germans. They enter into dialogue with each other, analyzing important, fascinating topics, always asking what, who, why, but friendly, diplomatic (most of the time), seeking the truth, together. Their economy is very strong, which is hardly possible without serving customers.

And his American colleagues, including Catman, understood his intentions in this way. And they understood the message in his statement: Das Was ist das Wie, the what is the how. The goal is defined for the most part by how you try to reach it, the path you take to it. Process.

Denk mit. Think with. From the German verb mitdenken. Germans expect this of team members. They expect it, also, of the products they develop.

A friend describes the technology built into his new high end German sedan. He was in a rush. Found a parking spot. Hopped out. Grabbed a few things out of the trunk. Walked a few steps and the trunk popped back open. He goes back and reshuts the trunk. A few more steps and it pops open again. Strange. He moves some things around in the trunk only to discover that he had left his car keys in the trunk the first time. Mitdenken. Nice.

Another friend flies over to Germany. A German colleague picks him up at Frankfurt Airport. They hop in a rental car. Another high end German sedan. A couple of turns and they’re on the autobahn. His colleague looks over at him with a grin on his face then presses the gas pedal to the floor. Soon they’re up to 180 km per hour, over 100 mph.

Mitdenken. About maintain control.

Traffic is only mildly heavy, but they’re quickly approaching a truck. In fact, they’re right in line to ram the truck from behind. The still-grinning German colleague keeps “the pedal to the metal.” My friend in the passenger seat – at this point pale in the face, sporting a few new gray hairs, and clutching tightly to his seat belt – mentions nervously, that the truck seems to be coming closer. Grin. The powerful German luxury sedan comes within a certain, safe distance of the truck, but no closer, even though the gas pedal remains all the way down. Mitdenken. A little scary.

Then there is the highly sophisticated German control system which makes manned monitoring of the most sensitive, and dangerous, parts of a complex manufacturing site no longer necessary. “The controls system will do the work better than people.” Although understood, trusted and implemented in Germany, the Americans feel wary of handing over final decisions and judgement to a machine. It reminded them of the computer-driven, automated trading systems once used on Wall Street which had led to some rather irrational market fluctuations. Mitdenken. More than a little scary.

Americans like intelligent products. Intelligent means keeping the user in control while making everything easier, faster, less expensive. Over-engineering is technology with questionable added value. It is technology which goes beyond the needs and desires of the customer. It is technology which is often not robust.

Over the last five or so years I have noticed more and more how German service personnel begin the conversation with Womit kann ich Ihnen helfen?: How can I help you. This is a new trend. Germans aren‘t known for saying things like that. It still sounds artificial, untypical, non-native.

Are the Germans not helpful? I suspect this Womit kann ich Ihnen helfen? has been imported from the U.S., where the „customer is king.“ 

So many Germans live and work in the United States, so many Germans do business there, that it is inevitable that they make comparisons to their own country, just as we Americans do when in Germany. And Germans very much like American customer-orientation. In fact, there has been a debate here for years about Germany as a Servicewüste, translated literally as service-desert.

It‘s not that Germans are not customer-oriented. That would be far too simple. How could a national economy be so strong worldwide and not be oriented towards responding to the needs of customers, whether in the business-to-consumer or business-to-business context?

„How can I help you?“

It is this explicit „How can I help you“ statement which is non-native to the Germans. But again, why? I believe that it is implicit in everything Germans think and do for their customers. Of course it is all about helping the customer, solving their problems, responding to their needs.

I recall addressing this distinction in a management seminar with Germans and Americans. The Germans smiled among themselves as if they were communicating to each other an insider-joke. I said: „Ok, what are you folks smiling about?“ One of them said freundliche Inkompetenz, which I translated for their American colleagues as „friendly incompetence.“ I knew what they meant, but asked them to explain.

„You go into stores here in the U.S. and you are greeted by the most friendly, positive, attractive people who give you the impression that they will do anything they possibly can to serve you. But, when you begin to ask a few questions, they often do not know the answers. If you ask complex questions, their face gets red and they say that they have to speak with the manager.“

Friendly incompetence vs. unfriendly competence

A few of the American colleagues chuckled, others did not. I asked the group what could be the reasons for freundliche Inkompetenz. Several responses came: „Sales in retail is low-paying. They aren‘t trained very well. Companies put all product information, including FAQs, up on their websites. Customers go into see the product first-hand, then buy or not buy.“

I then asked the German managers if the opposite of „friendly incompetence“ existed in Germany. Unfreundliche Kompetenz answered the one. Unfriendly competence. They all nodded, some laughed. „Yes, it‘s unbelievable how unfriendly sales people, waiters and so on can be in Germany. Even in the business world. We love the attitude here in the U.S. It makes life so much more enjoyable!“

As a side note, I recall speaking with the German ambassador to the U.S. years ago when I worked for the Christian Democrats in the Bundestag. „Herr Magee, it‘s amazing how easy it is to return a product to a store and get a full cash refund. That would never be possible in Germany. The sales people there argue with you and want you to state the reasons why you are returning the purchase!“

Friendly incompetence or unfriendly incompetence, which would you choose? I guess it depends on the situation. We have both in each country. Ideal would be friendly competence.

Where Americans go into duck and cover mode, Germans see themselves in a spirited debate, perhaps an open argument or dispute, but most likely necessary in order to get clarity on an important matter.

A senior member in the German parliament meets on a Monday morning with her staff to discuss the upcoming committee work and debates in the Bundestag. She, for American ears, rips into one of her staff members, complaining about a report he had written. The other colleagues at the conference table remain still, while their colleague addresses the criticism point-for-point.

Criticism: fast, direct, hard

“Yes, I understand your dissatisfaction with how that was worked out in the committee. But if you look at my report you will see that I anticipated those questions.” He cites pages 2 and 4. The MP fires another salvo, fast and hard. Not a problem for the staffer, who is not a day older than twenty-eight. “Well, that’s not accurate, either.” He continues to explain why, cool and composed. A third salvo he deflects easily. Their boss, half-embarrassed, moves on to another topic.

Salvo: a simultaneous discharge of two or more guns in military action or as a salute; a sudden burst; a spirited attack, as in the first salvo of a political campaign.

A few weeks back I caught a stomach virus. I needed to pick up some medicine at my physician‘s office – Dr. Planck. It was a Friday afternoon. I did not have an appointment. His office, in the middle of Bonn, is small, with just Dr. Planck and his secretary/office manager. It‘s next to impossible to just „drop in“, but my schedule that week gave me no other choice.

I entered his practice, walked passed the waiting room nodding to the five or six folks reading magazines or scrolling up and down on smartphones, then popped my head in the secretary‘s office. „You don‘t have an appointment, Herr Magee.“

There was no smile on her face. In fact, she rarely smiles. Gruff would be the right word in English. Gruff is often the right word for Germans who Americans believe should be happy, shiny, smiling, friendly, and customer-oriented.

Friendly incompetence vs. unfriendly competence

„No, I‘m sorry, Frau Schmitz. I simply couldn‘t find the time to call. And my schedule ….“ She interrupted me in a kind of complaining tone. It wasn‘t clear exactly what she said. „Please wait in the waiting room, Herr Magee.“ I smiled and thanked her.

Twenty-five years I have lived in Germany. This type of interaction I‘ve experienced more than a thousand times: twenty-five years times twelve months times four times a month. I am very familiar with it. In my early years my reaction would have been: „Typical German. Unfriendly (gruff). Rules-obsessed (no appointment). Not customer-oriented („Don‘t they want me as a patient?“)

I don‘t think like that any more, though. Frau Schmitz got me in within forty-five minutes. 

Dr. Planck was happy to see me. He asked not only about the virus, but about other aspects of my health, then wrote out the prescription. Frau Schmitz handled the paperwork very quickly and efficiently, then recommended what apothecary I should go to. She also had a few other tips about what I should eat and drink over the next few days. All the while she began to smile and engage in some very pleasant small talk.

Frau Schmitz appeared at first to be Frau Gruff, but then was in reality Frau Competent, Frau Caring and Frau Pleasant, all in one. Whenever people ask me to recommend a good physician in Bonn, I always recommend Dr. Planck (and Frau Schmitz).