English Banditry (Entries tagged as chinese)

Tech In China: Things are not getting better any time soon.

nospam@example.com (your host) — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 16:46:00 -0700

Disclaimer: This isn't a problem I have the ideal qualifications to talk about—but I find it very striking that I have yet to see this issue mentioned anywhere else, and thus feel somebody needs to bring it up.

Why Tech In China Is Going To Hell

I've been working in computers in China for some years now. Since this is my first real job after graduating, I didn't show up with any sort of preconceptions of how things are supposed to be. I have no firsthand knowledge of what the work environment in North America is like. I was here nearly a month before I spontaneously noticed what appeared to be immense age prejudice in the hiring process. Why is everyone so damn young and inexperienced? Even if they don't like "old people" here, wouldn't it be handy to have just one guy (other than management) on the team over 30 with some solid years of experience to help people out with tough questions? Maybe it should have been common sense, but after some asking around and realizing many of the fresh college graduates hadn't even touched a computer prior to their first programming assignment in college, it all started to make a lot more sense. This is a top international computer company and I know of lead programmers which DO NOT OWN a computer of their own and no shortage of employees that do not have internet access at home. I don't know why I seemed to have forgotten that Shanghai is still China. Just a few years back studying at a university in a smaller Chinese city it was a challenge to be able to get a shower on a regular basis.

What are the implications of all this? Well—let me mention my friend who also recently graduated and took a place in a top company in the US. I talked to him a short time after he started working and he excitedly related to me about how many things he was learning and what excellent resources some of his much more experienced coworkers would be in helping him rapidly grow his knowledge. I had no such experience. Not only did I fail to meet any inspiring über-hackers here, but if anything, my coworkers had a negative impact on me because I found it disgusting to see such a completely unenthusiastic passionless bunch of computer geeks. It's one thing if you are a societal reject computer geek: it's quite forgivable if you are crazy about it—but it's quite another thing if you are a geek that makes it look like your geekhood is a form of slavery.

What's the relevance? I would argue that in many cases even the fresh grads here are less experienced than (at least aside from that one batch of dot com bubble money-chasing imbeciles) a good portion of their geek-for-life freshly graduated counterparts in the West. I'm used to a considerable portion of programmers having gotten started on their own initiative practically from childhood. The lack of computer contact before college for many of the guys here was not so much a money or means to access issue as a lack of interest issue. We have guys who wanted to be doctors (more than one) but couldn't get quite the right score on the college admissions test for that major and were thus automatically reassigned to computer science. We have people who wanted to study and do a plethora of other things, but due to the whole business of filial piety and the parents thinking it was "a good idea" and more financially lucrative (actually the crux of the issue) the kids went along with what they were told and studied computers. Read: no passion. These "computer people" are not even computer people! It's purely a kind of job to them.

Another employee here has confided in me the fact that he believes he has no room for actual "career development" here because there is really no one he can ask about anything. If he doesn't know something there might be another guy on the team with a decent suggestion of what he can do, but there are no wizards that are going to make him feel as my friend in the U.S. did with the experienced coworkers: "I'm really learning to rock this stuff now!!!"

Since the stuff my group works on is not terribly sophisticated or mission critical, having highly experienced people is not "do or die" to this particular team and in such cases it is quite possible the company wouldn't want to incur the additional expense of paying real wizards. But I remain convinced that in many cases China is running into serious issues when it comes to talent availability. The fear of being outsourced, if you have decent experience, has been greatly exaggerated—the job market here is nearer than you might expect to being saturated with positions for which sufficient talent cannot be found to fill, and there are not 1.3 billion waiting in the wings to take your skilled job. A friend of mine that works on another team has actually indicated to me that for some of their serious applications where an extremely high level of experience really is mission critical to the project, they really cannot find the needed talent locally and are going to have no choice but to ship in folks from elsewhere.

Why There's No Prayer For The Future

What about 10 years down the road? Things don't look even the slightest bit rosier. Every computer operation in China is relatively new, so most of the people that stay long enough to accumulate the needed years of experience are eventually going to be needed to fill the higher ranks in new ventures or departments of existing companies. As they are shifted into management positions and have less need for the technical skills, their abilities stagnate or even atrophy. This cycle will likely continue for quite some time. Not everyone is suited for management, but the picture here doesn't looking any better: The once fresh guys who do stay at the entry level or in otherwise non-managerial positions for a protracted period are not getting the same 10 years of experience that their peers in the developed world are gaining. They're spending 10 years surrounded by peers of equal or lesser ability, while their counterparts in the Western world are spending 10 years picking up tips from peers who are simultaneously moving from 10 to 20 years of experience or perhaps even 20 to 30 years of experience—experienced people who themselves were shown the ropes a generation prior by an earlier generation of experienced people. I don't think this deficiency can be seen as completely insignificant or negligible. It's not about whether or not one can individually seek out the answer to a known problem, but more about whether one knows there is a problem at all. Do you want to drive over a bridge designed by an engineer who knows everything about calculating metal and concrete strength as it is the day of construction but who has never even heard of the practice of giving consideration to the way the materials are affected under continual stress and material wear over the course of 30 years of weathering and use?

Please no responses from (1) Chinese dudes trying to "save face" for the nation by contesting a point just for the sake of face (2) people who want to misread anything I've written as blanket stereotyping. When I say "they are passionless geeks" I know damn well exceptions exist.

The McDonald's Incident

nospam@example.com (your host) — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 10:31:59 -0700

Practical Jokes Taken Too Far

The Chinese are real practical jokers. Sometimes it seems they can't take anything seriously. The station master of the Shanghai city subway system seems to be the biggest joker himself, and this morning again he caught me with one of his dirty tricks.

One of the survival strategies I employ during the commute to and from work is to keep earphones in my ears and a PDA screen glued to my face at all times. It may sound like an annoying anti-social behavior, and surely the people who have to avoid me because I am about to walk right into them without looking probably think I'm a dick, but after getting way too angry and frustrated at the impenetrable mass moving human wall that pervades the entirety of all public areas in Shanghai one too many times in the past years, I realized the best way is to just forget it exists, forget that I cannot possibly hope to ever move more than 20% faster than the slowest mosier in the crowd, and just assume the identity of a slow motion human pinball.

The problem happened when, gazing with full attention at my PDA screen, I stepped on to the upward-bound escalator at my destination station. The spontaneous sensation of an earth-quake took to my senses as the masses of humans around me moved upward on the escalator as in correlation with my expectations, but my own body, in contrast, seemed to have no stair propelling it forward and upward along with them. I lost my footing and very nearly fell on my face when I came to realize that once again the station attendants must have randomly decided to pull the "turn the escalators off in the middle of rush-hour" prank. As I climbed the stationary escalator steps all the way to the top, a strong feeling of sea-sickness overwhelmed me. The last time this had happened, I was nearly to the top when the steps suddenly stopped moving.

The thing is—this kind of shit happens every day here in Shanghai. One week you go down to wait for the subway to work and see that every single one of the time-till-arrival LCD TVs have gone missing. A week later they magically reappear, but they won't be there more than a few weeks before they disappear again. Another day the screens will work all day, but when the last train for the night in a particular direction has left the station, station personnel will turn the screens off to "trick" everyone into waiting for a final train that will never come.

In the office I work in, the handle for the faucet in the lavatory has disappeared randomly and inexplicably, as in the "here's a sink but you can't wash your hands after taking a dump" prank, more than 10 times in the past few months. But, that's not nearly as good as when you put soap on your hands FIRST and then realize the sink faucet handle is there but is glued in place. I shit you not!
WHEN IN THE AIRPORT, THE ASSIGNED GATE NUMBER FOR MY FLIGHT WAS CHANGED 2 MINUTES PRIOR TO THE FINAL GATE CLOSING CALL ON THREE OCCASIONS! I ALMOST MISSED THE FLIGHTS! AND I KNOW THOSE FUCKING JOKERS IN THE AIRPORT WERE TRYING TO PULL THE PRANK ON ME BECAUSE THEY SAW THAT I WEAR HEADPHONES TO PASS THE BOREDOM AND THOUGHT I WOULDN'T HEAR THE ANNOUNCEMENT.
City workers in Shanghai actually booby trap the sidewalk tiles such that when it is raining, if you accidentally walk across the wrong tile you will be sprayed with a puddle of cold dirty water. The bastards are experts at disguising the "trigger" tiles as well, so the only safe way is to locate them in advance on a dry day, and then avoid them any time it is wet out.
It seems there may even be a competition for cruelty in pranks going between the various city management groups, as recently I have observed that the subway station master has upped the ante. Previously I had assumed the warning beeps and flashing lights which proceed the subway door closing were computer controlled and thus could not be omitted by human error. I was disturbed to learn that such is not at all the case when the subway conductor nearly succeeded in slamming the subway doors on a woman's face with NO WARNING AT ALL!

The thing is, pranks are really cool and all but, myself, coming from a culture in which they are generally reserved for friends, acquaintances, and enemies, I have had a lot of trouble adapting to the Chinese prank style of giant corporations (i.e. "melamine poisoned milk and the kidney stone joke") and, indeed, the city government itself (Mr. Subway Station Master) trying to fuck with me. That's why it's very hard for me to condemn my fellow expats when they get fed up with this shit and do something incredibly anti-social about it thinking, mistakenly, that they can "teach Chinese to stop pulling these ridiculous tricks".

McDonald's Crosses The Line

(This is not a work of fiction.)

It was pouring cats and dogs outside. A young foreign man entered a Shanghai McDonald's both hungry and with an intense pressure in his bladder. Longing for a swift and relaxing visit to the little boy's room, our hero was not looking forward to yet another round of Chinese practical jokes. He marched swiftly to the bathroom only to stop unexpectedly, dumbfounded with exasperation that the door refused to open. He opened his eyes wide to take note of his surroundings. Oh not again! The Chinese had succeeded in pulling the "we know you really have to piss, that's why we're going to fuck with you and close down this whole bathroom" prank yet again. A sign was posted on the door that directed the would-be race horse urinator to climb several flights of stairs with his already painfully full bladder and expel his waste in a porcelain bowl on the third floor.

"No! Not today I'm not", he thought as he smiled smugly at the ingenious Chinese sign. Taking no further consideration of his surroundings, the man spontaneously whipped out his cock and began spraying a stream of dark yellow urine on the battered wooden door. A stream, not dissimilar except in size to those left on department store floors across China by children with open-crotch pants at the direction of their parents, flowed swiftly down and away from the door itself. A river of yellow spontaneously streaking across a large expanse of the floor further magnified the conspicuousness of an already larger-than-life utterly inconceivable spectacle.

Soon, a nearby security guard took note of the odd event transpiring. Shocked far beyond the wildest expectations he had had in 15-odd years of humdrum play-with-your-cell-phone-and-act-official guard duty, the poor man's mind couldn't even begin to conceive of a possible appropriate response to this obvious violation of the building whose sanctity he was employed to protect. The guard approached from a distance, rustling his keys enough in the process for our hero to take note of his presence, and then stopped dead in his tracks gawking and thoroughly disoriented. Our hero, having a bladder still not satisfactorily relieved from its prior state of fullness, took note of the guard's presence and returned to the more pressing matter of pissing at hand, literally.

A few seconds later, a practical eternity to the guard and any other passersby happening to pay witness to the absurd sight, the otherwise respectable young man pulled the elastic flap of his underpants over his cock and zipped up his fly. Nonchalantly he returned to the table he had come from to join his friend and enjoy a fine meal.

A few minutes later a more official looking head security guard approach the table. In Chinese he said sternly, "Which one of you just took a pee on the door over there?" The two foreigners seated at the table, our hero included, feigned inability in the Chinese language and continued their conversation in English. The head guard repeated his words, but, assuming doing so in a language that wouldn't be understood by the "foreigners" was in vain, he soon gave up, turned, and left.

If we were to discuss the greatest virtue Chinese have, I think with little doubt I would have to say it is: tolerance for one's fellow man. Damn!!!

China Postal: The Consistency Of Our Service Never Changes, Only The Assholes That Do It Do!

nospam@example.com (your host) — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 21:46:48 -0700

In this ever changing age of technology, it's always comforting to know that some things never change: people cheating on their wives, computer crashes, students' lack of enthusiasm for school after returning from the summer holiday—and the Chinese postal service beating the living fucking hell out of your packages with a baseball bat before delivering them. I assume my birthday present didn't look like this a few days ago when my parents sent it:

The good thing about all of this, though, is that they were polite enough this time to affix a sticker to alert me to the fact that they bashed the piss out of my gift before giving it to me. Kudos to the genius who thought of that. If I hadn't seen the sticker there, I might have just assumed it was a modern art box design. This is definitely an improvement over a box I shipped from China to the USA five years ago which they had beaten the shit out of then poked a hole in the side and poured in dirt to mix with my books and clothing, but to which no such sticker had been attached.

The other really great thing about the Chinese post office is that THEY WON'T EVEN ACTUALLY DELIVER. That's right—if you get a box, they'll send you a postcard which says: "We have your box, come get it your damn self cause we are so busy bashing the fuck out of people's packages we don't have time to come give you". Of course, pray to god the sender didn't write your name in Chinese on it, because if you're like me—having graduated long ago and pitched my only ID (my student ID) that actually had my Chinese name on it—you're going to have a helluva a time trying to convince the counter lady that the English letter composed name printed on your passport is the "equivalent" of the Chinese name on the box. And, yes, you do need to take your passport. No, they won't let you use the postcard as "proof" that it's your package.

Differences of Culture: Dispersion of Body Waste

nospam@example.com (your host) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 14:39:02 -0700

So the other day I'm doing a job interview, yeah? And I was thinking "this one really takes the cake", that is, until I mentioned it to a friend and realized just how much deeper the rabbit hole goes. There's a huge difference in tolerance for sharing one's "body waste" between Chinese culture and the West.

Case in point:

A Scab In The Interview

Guy shows up to a job interview for a managerial level position in shorts which reveal his battered legs. As one is APT TO DO WHEN NERVOUS, he twitches away and finds a "outlet" for the nervous energy as he speaks. Personally I prefer scribbling on a slip of paper, clicking a pen, or screwing and unscrewing a pop bottle cap. Hell, even if he went crazy zipping and unzipping his fly it would have been better than .... THE HORROR THAT MANIFESTED ITSELF AS HIS OUTLET FOR NERVOUS ENERGY WHICH CONSISTED OF PICKING AT HIS KNEE SCABS FOR A FULL HOUR. I wanted to puke like --- THE WHOLE TIME.

Nails To Be Cutten

I don't even have to get specific with this one. Everyone who's been in a Chinese office has had the pleasant experience of being rained on with stray finger (or god forbid TOE) nails from a neighboring desk or cubicle farm. Why do at home that which can be done at work? **click-keh** *click-keh*

Continue reading "Differences of Culture: Dispersion of Body Waste"

One of Those Little Secrets Hidden In Chinese

nospam@example.com (your host) — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 08:43:00 -0700

Five years in to really using a foreign language, one of the most pleasant surprises is to find out something new about a basic, basic word that you somehow had remained oblivious to all along. Languages are just like that – they have little things hidden here and there. It’s like exploring a city you’ve lived in all your life and suddenly finding an alleyway that leads to a hole in the ground which leads to an underground cavern and stream.

I hadn’t watched a movie, and the guy knew it. Why did he ask me “Do you like to watch that movie?” I was baffled. Was there something wrong with the logic circuits in his brain? “Can you say that in Chinese?” “你喜欢看那部电影吗?” “Oh… but how can I know? I’ve never seen it before.” “Yeah, I know.”

*a moment of silent reflection*

“In English, ‘like’ means you actually enjoy the experience of doing it. You can’t know if you enjoy an experience prior to ever having had that experience,” I explained.

And thus I realized that “like” does not mean “喜欢”, and for as enlightened as I thought I was for always vigilantly reminding myself languages have few true one-to-one equivalent words – a whooper had slipped through the cracks on me.

On Idiocy: An Open Letter to the English Bandits Of China

nospam@example.com (your host) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 19:07:53 -0700

Yes, I mean you, asshole.

STUDYING IN JAPAN

Maybe you were the son of a bitch Chinese foreign student at a party in Japan. When I approached you ever so politely in Japanese, you responded in your retardo English. You asked me things like "How long you study English?”, things I will never understand. As polite as I was to you, you continued to break rapport through our entire "broken" conversation as you tried to burgle my English. Your English is a piece of shit, but you, being the arrogant mother fucker that you are, continued to vomit your disgusting infected wound of an excuse for "English" upon me. I don't know what kind of a tramp you had for a mother, but she certainly didn't teach you the proper manners of polite society. You have a lot of nerve treating another person like you tried to treat me. I did not come all the way to Japan to help a stupid Chinese boy like you who didn't learn English for a shit review the basics of English he should have mastered by age 14. As cool as you thought you were, you sure as shit didn't impress me. There are a million non-native English speakers in Europe and around the world who could walk circles around the ability you MIGHT gain IF AND ONLY IF you were to spend every waking moment of every day for the rest of your worthless joke of a life studying English. I'm sure your little Chinese buddies standing behind you were impressed by what a badass you are, but in the REAL world you were the jackass. The joke is on you, because while you thought you were showing off -- you were the fool. I was replying back to you in perfect Polish and you didn't even notice the difference, YOU STUPID FUCK.

Continue reading "On Idiocy: An Open Letter to the English Bandits Of China"