Observe how a very intelligent young man by the name of Harry Sonneborn persuades Ray Croc to fundamentally change his business model re: McDonald’s.
movies
“Buy before too late!“
When Americans sell too energetically Germans find it a bit crass, loud, unpolished. I see in my mind’s eye a certain kind of television advertising in the U.S. Evenings. Six p.m. A local station. A local car dealership. The owner him-/herself, with his face up close to the camera, in a loud voice: “This is the greatest deal of the century. Buy fast, folks, before it’s too late!”
Or I think of the famous, and often infamous, television evangelical preachers of the 1980s and 90s, with tears in their eyes asking their audience in the church and in their living rooms to “speak directly to God” – via an 1-800 telephone number – and make a donation.
What Germans do not understand, and reject (often vehemently), is the caveat emptor (let the buyer beware) approach in the American business context. The difference between the German Auskunftspflicht and caveat emptor is dramatic and leads to significant misunderstanding and irritation.
What surprises, throws off balance, and can anger Germans is when Americans while selling their product, service, concept or idea only mention its strengths, even though the Germans sense, or even know, of its weaknesses.
They often notice immediately when Americans exaggerate the positive and either play down or leave unmentioned the negative. And if the negatives are mentioned, then as if by some magic they can actually be converted into strengths, if understood and managed properly.
Depending on how much experience Germans have working with Americans, the caveat emptor approach can lead to indignation. At a minimum Americans can be viewed as being tricky, clever, in some cases even as lying.
“Always be closing!”
This is a famous scene with Alec Baldwin from the movie Glengarry Glen Ross. Brace yourselves. This scene is very intense and includes vulgar language. In the American business context persuasion is sales, and sales is persuasion.
“For the first time I understand the Germans”
The history of Germany, as well as the historical consciousness of the German people, continue to impress and attract me. Today, just as strongly as a quarter century ago. You need only to go into a bookstore in Germany. Their books are not only solid, well bound and have great covers. The Germans have a very special relationship to books. There are always many older and newer publications about history, about their history. For those Germans who want to know their history there will never be a shortage of opportunities.
Every city in Germany, large and small, has museums in which history, but not only theirs, is told, is kept alive and relevant. In my early years in Berlin and Bonn I was astounded by how many fascinating and well-made documentary films were shown on German television. There was never a day without at least one in the evening. The German language is worth learning if only to read their books, to visit their museums, and to watch their documentaries. Although not a documentary, but one with the look and feel of one, was Heimat, by Edgar Reitz.
It was the summer of 1992. I watched episode for episode of Heimat. My eyes were glued to the television, my mind racing to understand every word, to pick up on as many nuances as possible. What an opportunity for me to gain insight in Germany of that time period, between the world wars. Time and again I had to turn to my then German wife to get the meaning of this or that word, for the dialogue was in the dialect of that region of Germany, the Hunsrück, along the Moselle River, between Trier and Koblenz. After every episode I was in a kind of trance, reflecting about what I had just taken in.
Then another time. I was in the car. Driving through Bonn. Evening. I turned on the radio. Deutschlandfunk. A book review was being read. It was about the immediate post-war years in then West Germany. The first sentences grabbed my attention. They flowed: complex, clear, rich, full of substance, critical, analytical, yet elegant. That feeling had come back, from when I was a student at Georgetown. History. German History. The history of another people. In another part of the world. And when I read the books by John Lukacs. Trance.
The reader continued. I was captured, drove further, but as if on a soft cloud just a few inches above the road. I think of the many war memorials in Germany. When I walk or ride my bicycle down the hill from the Venusberg in Bonn to the former government quarter on the Rhine, I pass through Kessenich where there is such a memorial.
It’s round, cement, encircling a lovely oak tree. Six pillars about eight feet high. Plenty of space between them to step in and out. The tops of all eight crowned – or held together – by a cement ring providing the tree with space to stretch out its branches. Just below the top each of the eight the face in cement of a German soldier with the iconic German steel helmet from the World War I.
Chiseled into the pillars, from the top to just about the bottom, are the names of the men who died in the two world wars. Six pillars, three sides each. Longs lists. Names. Of men, and boys, from that part of Bonn, from the neighborhood. Yes, boys, many no older than seventeen or eighteen years old. Sad. Especially sad for me, as one of five Magee boys, to read the same last names. Meyer. Schmitz. Leyendecker. Two, three, sometimes four of the same last names. Brothers. Cousins.
Imagine the deep, deep sadness of the mothers and fathers who saw their boys go off to war only to kill and be killed. 1914. 1915. 1916. 1917. 1918. Four long years for an entire continent. Then on the other sides of the pillars. 1939. 1940. 1941. 1942. 1943. 1944. 1945. Many of the same names. The sons and nephews of those fallen between 1914 and 1918. The Germans suffered, too.
“For the first time I understand the Germans.”
Thumbs Up or Down
In the American movie Interstellar, when earth begins to become uninhabitable, 10 astronauts are sent through a wormhole to a group of planets orbiting a supermassive black hole. These astronauts are supposed to explore the planets to see if they are inhabitable or not.
However, when communicating their findings back to earth, they don’t transmit long lists of data. Instead, if the area they’ve explored could sustain human life, they simply activate the “thumbs up beacon.”
repetitive, patient, routine
With a Little Patience (Türelem, 2007). Although a short film and Hungarian by production, With a Little Patience has been recognized in German-speaking film circles for its meditative style and thematic resonance. The film’s narrative unfolds slowly, focusing on the repetitive, patient routine of an office clerk. The deliberate pacing and refusal to rush action or resolution underscore the virtue of patience, both in daily work and in facing larger, more dramatic events outside the office window. The film’s approach and critical acclaim highlight how patience and waiting can be central to both personal and collective outcomes.
rapid, imperfect
Apollo 13 (1995). When an oxygen tank explodes on the spacecraft, NASA’s ground team and the astronauts must make a series of rapid, imperfect decisions to bring the crew home safely. The film highlights how quick thinking, adaptability, and the willingness to improvise are valued over waiting for perfect solutions. The mantra “failure is not an option” underscores the urgency and necessity of fast action.
instinctive decision-making
Sully (2016). Based on the real-life Miracle on the Hudson, Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger makes a split-second decision to land his disabled plane on the Hudson River. The film shows how immediate, instinctive decision-making can save lives, and that reviewing and correcting decisions can come later.