stories Archives - Page 3 of 7 - understand-culture

“. . . if they would simply smile.“

During one of her visits to Germany my mother commented: “John, when you do your management seminars be sure to remind the Germans how important it is in their dealings with Americans to smile.” Initially I thought the comment was rather absurd. But in the months, and even years, since then I have come to recognize its significance.

Especially in the public space Americans don’t exactly get the most positive impression from German facial expressions, body language, and from how they deal with each other. It‘s as if they are communicating that the sky is falling, the world is coming to an end, everything is just awful.

Maybe it is due to the strong German inclination to always look for things which don’t work or are imperfect or just substandard. Perhaps the logic is “the better you can find errors, the better you can improve them; the earlier you can anticipate mistakes, the sooner you can prevent them. Everything will be ok.” It‘s certainly an approach that works. Look at Germany. But it‘s certainly not a recipe for a positive atmosphere.

Even more problembewußt

I remember well an episode during my time in the CDU/CSU Parliamentary Group. We were in the U.S., a delegation of German parliamentarians in visiting members of Congress in Washington, D.C. There were several so-called photo opportunities. The politicians stood pressed together. The photographer clicked away.

Just before the first photo was taken one of my German colleagues whispered in my ear: “John, watch how the Americans put on a huge, happy smile.” He was right. Lots of teeth. Bright and shiny. His comment kept popping up in my mind for days afterward. I sensed that it was a bit critical in the sense of: “Look at how superficial you Americans are!” I took it personally. “You Americans” as in you, John, and your family, relatives and friends. “Look, as if everything in America was just great. How naive!”

It bothered me. I felt insulted. It hurt my feelings. Ever since then I notice – at least from my American perspective – how Germans have no problem presenting the world their long faces. Especially in moments of difficulty, when optimism is critical, Germans tend to be even more problembewußt (literally problem-conscious).

When Americans see people with a long face, they ask themselves instinctively (consciously or unconsciously): “What’s their problem? What did they do wrong to put themselves in a position to be so down? What opportunity did they not take advantage of? What battle did they just lose? Why don’t they pull themselves together and pursue the next opportunity? Are they losers?”

This kind of American thinking has not only to do with the figure of speech – “Never let them see you sweat!” – which means: precisely when you‘re down, when you are nervous or unsure of yourself, always give the impression that everything is going well, and that you are capable of handling any and all difficult situations successfully.

It has even more to do with the fundamental American belief that every person is the architect of their own fortune. The American experience is that the country offers many opportunities. So many waves of immigrants have come, worked hard and succeeded. Americans, therefore, have little patience for people who don’t take advantage of those opportunities, but instead look for causes of their failure outside of themselves.

Insider Jokes

Americans and Germans who have been collaborating over a longer period of time have all sorts of insider jokes about the respective other culture. These jokes are certainly not meant maliciously. They do, however, signal a deep seated consensus in the one culture about certain characteristics of the other culture. And those characteristics are, in most cases, considered to be negative.

I don‘t mean cliches or prejudices, which usually are not based on any kind of fact. Instead I mean characteristics – national cultural traits – which each side observes and experiences on a daily basis and over a longer stretch of time. Each side – separate of each other – discusses these. They then develop their jokes. Because these characteristics (a part of one‘s character), or logics, are rooted in national culture, they are in almost in most cases misunderstood by the other culture. Their insider jokes are a clear indication of misinterpretation.

Often no more than a specific term or phrase is enough for the one side to know what is being said about the other. That‘s the nature of insider jokes. Take the topic product, or more precisely product philosophy. A German colleague need only wink to his colleagues and imitate an American colleague by saying „and we‘ve tested it.“

Every fellow German knows what is meant by the phrase: „Oh, here we go again, another American who believes to have developed a solution just because what they tried actually worked, but once and by chance or coincidence.“ The implied criticism is equally clear: „They (the Americans) can‘t explain how and why it worked. The solution is half-baked. In reality it hasn‘t been tested at all.“ For Germans „and we‘ve tested it“ means Americans are naive, quick to claim a breakthrough, at best not thorough.

Risk via false assumptions

Alarms go off in my head whenever I hear insider jokes on either side of the Atlantic. I jump into the conversation immediately and ask questions. For insider jokes are clear indications that the one culture misunderstands the other culture in a critical area. Insider jokes are not thought up, told and retold unless they address foundational matters. And therein lies the danger for German-American collaboration. Insider jokes become imbedded.

And what is imbedded is difficult to root out. Misunderstanding leads to (counter)behaviour. „The Americans are this or that.“ Or „The Germans think like this or than.“ If taken as fact the respective other culture adjusts its approach based on a misinterpretation. If each culture‘s operating assumptions about the other culture are wrong, or just partly wrong, the potential for Americans and Germans working against instead of with and for each other increases.

Several years ago Volkwagen was convinced it knew what the Chinese wanted in a car. With such a large population, with such high levels of population density in cities and towns, it was clear to VW that the Chinese people wanted a compact, agile, fuel-efficient automobile. „The Chinese want a Polo.“ But the Chinese did not want a Polo or any compact car. They wanted a big car. VW‘s operating assumptions in the largest automobile growth market were wrong. Very wrong. That mistake costed VW a rather significant amount of money.

Interconnections and interdependencies

„The German graph“ is one of the American insider jokes (in this case terms). It, too, is a misinterpretation. Americans see many a German graph – usually in a PowerPoint presentation – which for them are „too busy“, with far too much information on them: text, arrows, lines, symbols, etc. They‘re difficult to understand. Looked at for longer than a few minutes such graphs can give Americans headaches. They get the impression that only the presenter – a German – can understand them.

It is true that some „German graphs“ are packed too full with information. But if so, not because the German approach is nonsense, but more likely because that approach was not executed well. The actual disconnect – or misinterpretation – is that Americans are not aware of how Germans explain complexity.

If you believe in the value of explaining interconnections and interdependencies in a systematic way, you have to display them ideally on one slide. This provides overview. Otherwise you would have to break down that complexity into several slides and constantly flip forward and backward to show the system. In other words, to explain interconnections you have to show interconnections.

It really is that simple. Americans and Germans can debate about whether a presenter gets the interconnections and interdependencies right.

They can debate about whether the presenter uses the presentation software in an effective way. But the fundamental German approach to addressing complexity as it is, explaining the system underlying it, is surely not a national cultural weakness of the German people, and most certainly not a weakness other cultures should joke about. For, in fact, grasping complexity is one of the greatest of German national cultural strengths (provided that strength is applied at the right time and in the right way).

Germans can, indeed, tangle themselves up in systems. They do have the tendancy to look at a problem from so many different perspectives, attempting to factor in so many different parameters, in order to reach total consensus, that at some point noone can recall what it is they are trying resolve.

Let‘s keep in mind, however, that there is such a thing as the (American) opposite of „the German graph.“ It is the presentation slide with maximum three statements in oversized, bold letters stating something like: „This is the challenge. This is the solution. We‘ll all make lots of money and mankind will be happy ever after.“

Lone Wolf

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.

Stuttgart. They meet once a quarter. The leadership team. Each reports on the state of their business. The others have the opportunity (obligation) to comment, ask questions, make suggestions.

German company. German logic. Weak business units are supported to a certain degree by stronger ones. “Your weakness impacts me. Therefore, I have a say in the matter. In your matters.”

One of the business unit heads is American. Barbara. New. Her numbers are solid. There are few comments. Not so for other colleagues. One in particular is cross-examined as if in court charged for a serious crime.

Observing this Barbara feels very uncomfortable. “What value does this have? How can this group ever function as a team?” She senses nothing but negativism. And the head of the organization doesn’t intervene!

The colleague under fire responds calmly. The criticisms are not entirely unjustified. Perhaps overstated, perhaps somewhat mean spirited, but legitimate. Several suggestions from a more experienced business unit head are quite helpful. They agree to meet that evening to discuss.

Their American colleague, though, senses only small mindedness and harshness. She is determined not to subject herself to this every quarter. The next two meetings Barbara is absent. Her reasons are plausible, but not totally excusable.

Among themselves, her manager and colleagues begin to question Barbara’s loyalty to the team. She appears to them to be a lone-wolf of the self-centered kind. Perhaps her business unit should be folded into one of the other ones as a way to integrate her into the team.

The Big Meeting

An attempt to cure all ills, is the impression many Americans get of German processes. From their perspective, Germans try to apply processes in areas where only common sense and good judgement work. „Processes can‘t substitute for people“ is a common statement one hears from Americans in German companies. Much of what people in companies do simply cannot be objectified. Continuous process modification, from the American perspective, produces far more internal agitation than it does any kind of value.

Frustration was high, very high. It was about the bid process. A German multinational with a large presence in the United States. Plant construction. Big plants. Complex. Customers in a multitude of countries. The bid process, too, is complex. All of the key topics come together: market, customers, product portfolio, price, competition, etc. And the key disciplines come together: engineering, supply chain, project management, finance, risk, etc.

An offering is formulated. If they get the contract, the project runs over several years. Tremendous depth of detail. If the complexity is not grasped, nothing but problems during the entire project. Lose a lot of money. If the complexity is understood, the project is executable. Earn lots of money.

No good decision without a good decision making process

There is a process for bidding on projects. The problem is, the processes on either side of the Atlantic look different. From my point of view, no surprise. Americans and Germans have different approaches to the topics, to the disciplines. At its core, the bid process is a decision making process. And as such it is only to a certain degree technical. The baseline analysis is done. Engineers. Engineering methods. IT tools. The results: numbers. Processes are critical here. Science does its work.

But after that it‘s all about judgement. Experience, intuition, common sense. Everything comes together in the big meeting. The boss with her direct reports, the heads of the disciplines. Interdisciplinary, as they say. They discuss intensely, long, often in great detail, open, focused. Key parameters are looked at from every possible angle. The boss drills down with her questions. The experts respond to the best of their ability, and based on their calculations.

Far more than a brainstorm, they look for ways to handle the tough questions. Back and forth, up and around, combine, separate. More art than science. Bids are formulated not generated. The big meeting is not a factory. No place for a process here. The task is far too complex.

And so it went for years, actually generations. It‘s how Americans make decisions. The big meeting. I had heard about it. Then I was allowed to sit in, like a fly on the wall. German headquarters wanted to change the bidding process. Make it more German. Process harmonization. The Americans were not amused. The big meeting.

It was fascinating. It went as I had anticipated. I felt at home, understood its inner logic. The German colleagues do it differently, much differently. They move along a process, from beginning to end. No big meeting. The topics are addressed in a crisp, brief, focused manner, like knocking off the topics in a routine meeting. Not all that much interaction among the participants. Everything based on facts and analysis, and the process. Objectified in the spirit of: „Good decisions are the result of good decision making processes.“

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.

Salvos

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.

Frau Schmitz

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).

In Tears

The young woman, Susan, an American, left in tears. Clearly she was inexperienced professionally. And her expectations were unrealistically high. And she had never worked for a German before.

Antje is a petite woman, with fine features, very expressive dark eyes. A perfectionist, correct in everything she does. But also warm-hearted in a quiet, considerate way. Antje wants the best for her team, especially for the younger women. She knows firsthand what it’s like to earn respect in a technology-based company run by men.

Susan had simply not met Antje’s expectations. Accordingly, their feedback discussion addressed unmet goals. Antje, not aware of how critique in the American context is best communicated, took the German approach, the only one she knows, with the only difference that the talk was in English.

Antje found Susan to be overly emotional, a bit naive about her ability, and unprepared for the discussion. At the same time, Antje saw raw potential in Susan. Her mind was quick, she worked hard, was willing to take on challenges. Antje had a plan to coach Susan along to her full potential, including getting corporate sponsorship for an evening MBA program at a well-respected university.

It wouldn’t come to be. Within a month Susan left Antje’s team, moving to a similar organization in another division. She had found Antje to be unfair and harsh.

“That’s not the way one does that.”

„So macht man das nicht“ – that’s not the way one does that. „Wir machen es nicht so“ – that’s not the way we do it. „Das ist nicht richtig so“ – that’s not right. „Das ist falsch, wie Sie es machen“ – you’re doing that wrong. „Ach, Sie gehen so amerikanisch vor“ – ach, you’re taking such an American approach. These sentences I’ve heard many times. Of course, it could have been that I did most things in the wrong way.

So many times I have had the impression that in the German context there is the right way to do something and the wrong way. Implied in such thinking is that there is only one truly right way. All other ways are wrong.

I don’t understand much philosophy, but my impression is that Germans develop their ways of doing things deductively, from generally accepted principles. Kant, Hegel, and all of those great German philosophers, wanted to explain human existence – break the code, so to speak – so that people (individuals) know what to think and what to do.

They put together systems which are incredibly complex, all-encompassing, which explain all sorts of human interactions and interconnections. Rather German: complicated, hardly understandable, nonetheless intricate, impressive, somehow wonderful. Yet, more than somewhat abstract, distanced from everyday experience.

Not egotistical, much more collectivistic

The German “that’s not how one does it” comes from above, from on high, not dictated downwards, but more as if it were simply a given, based on some irrefutable logic. The tone of the statement is always as if there was really nothing, or at the most very little, to discuss.

Not “I want it done in this way” or “I know best how this should be done.” Not stubborness, obstinance or ignorance or egotism. Those are not German character traits. Quite the contrary the Germans are very open-minded people in many ways. Ignorant? No chance, instead intelligent, well-informed, intellectually very curious. And not egotistical, instead far more collectivistic.

I cannot explain it. It’s puzzling, enigmatic, mysterious. Perhaps Germans think that in any given situation there can be only one truly optimal way to do something, and therefore „bevor ich Deinen Weg ernsthaft in Betracht ziehe, sage ich, unser Weg ist der richtige, oder eher der richtige” – before I seriously consider your approach, I say that our approach is the right one, or more or less the right one.

Anna in Sales

I‘ve become friends with a woman in my neighborhood. Anna is new to Bonn, having moved here to take a sales job in a well known electronics and household appliance retailer, the largest chain in Germany and very successful.

Her sales training lasted four weeks. Based on what Anna told me it sounded very comprehensive and intense. The salespeople are expected to have deep technical knowledge of their products. And although they are trained in sales, as well as in how to interact with customers, it is clear that the emphasis is on the products as technical solutions.

For any of my readers who have spent time in such stores in Germany, and asked a sales person a question or two, you‘ll know what I mean about product knowledge. German salespeople can go into great depth, sounding at times as if they were involved in the product development process itself. The depth of information is often too much for us Americans. Asking a simple question seldom leads to a simple answer.

Help customers. Take pride in your work.

Such stores in Germany are called a Fachgeschäft, a term not easily translated into American English. The equivalent would be „a store with technical products, sold by staff who view themselves as experts, who will give you detailed information on the products, including letting you know what is best for you.“

What is the spirit in the hearts of these salespeople? Arrogance? Are they know-it-alls? Or is it Technikverliebheit (obsession with technology)? Those were certainly my impressions in my early years in Germany. But they haven‘t been for a long time. The spirit is: help the customer, be professional, take pride in your work, demonstrate respect.

And this spirit you‘ll find in the local bakeries, at the computer store (especially the Apple re-sellers), from restaurant servers, at the information desk of the Deutsche Bahn in any train station, at the post office, in the bookstore, with the butcher in the supermarket, and so on. And because it is deeply cultural, it is a shared logic. The German customer expects it.