Changing mindsets
In the last week I have spoken at two conferences regarding the changing mindsets of the global workforce (read: employees everywhere.) The conference last week was for the Hong Kong Institute of Human Resources annual conference, this year entitled "Back to Basics." My speech was entitled "HR Myths in the Asian Century." As part of being a speaker at this event I was interviewed by the South China Morning Post. The journalist did quite a good job at capturing the essence of my ideas and a copy of the article can be downloaded by clicking here. Warning: my speeches are known for being controversial and provocative. The second conference was held this week in Shanghai by HR consultants Mercer. The conference was called "Rethinking HR in the Asian Century." My speech ran along the same lines as the previous week’s talk and was entitled "Retaining Top Talent – What HR Needs to Know."
November is Premature Awareness Month and November 15th is Prematurity Awareness Day. 
I went to the March of Dimes web site to read about the campaign. There are a whole list of families with stories very similar to Tess and mine. The stories, of course, are very moving and in many ways overwhelming, taking me back to almost two years ago when the Terrific Trio were first born. As usual, it seems like only yesterday but at the same time seems like a lifetime away. Is that because the Terrific Trio are doing so well, are healthy and thriving with no immediately apparent issues resulting from their prematurity? Or is it because most of the time I just want to block out that exhausting time in my life? Or maybe both. It doesnt take much scratching beneath the surface for me to experience that exhaustion all over again. However, the Terrific Trio are doing well, so I count my blessings and try not to complain. Lots of other parents had outcomes very different than the one Tess and I received.
Insanity in Shanghai
Despite last week’s issuance of muddled terrorist warnings for China (and Hong Kong, too, for that matter) I have come to Shanghai this week. I am speaking at a large HR conference and also dropping in on our Shanghai office.
I started this blog in the Immigration Hall of the Shanghai International Airport. I have been here for one hour and thirty minutes. The place is incredibly disorganized. When we started there were roughly 100 in my line. There is one line for each letter of the alphabet… do the math, there were (and still are with more passengers arriving behind us) 2600 people in this room.
I was in one of those annoying scenes when everyone jockeyed to get ahead in their line. People were jumping back and forth into each others lines. The hall was so crowded, it was hard to argue from one person to the next, "hey, get back in your line," because they would say, "that’s not my line, THIS is my line."
After over AN HOUR and fifteen minutes, I finally went back to the END of another line because the Immigration officer in my first line was slow as molasses. The officer in the second line processed about 40 people in twenty minutes and I finally left my fellow passengers behind. No idea how he did that but I was finally done!
Of course, by then our bags were long gone. Other flights had arrived and signage changed to handle their cargo. I searched all the baggage belts to no avail and finally stopped in the middle of the chaos to figure out who I should speak to about my bag. Just then one of those annoying sirens discharged behind me, indicating a belt was about to stop. Irritated, I turned to glare at the belt, as if my disapproving look would make the belt any quieter. "Please, let’s use our INSIDE siren, honestly!" But then I turned to discover the offending belt had just parked my bag a meter away from me in an apparent peace offering.
I cleared Customs to find ten times the chaos in the airport. China is on fire with growth and activity, especially Shanghai, and everywhere one turns is witness to that fact. I eventually found the hotel car and am currently en route to my hotel. Alas, though, I have been defeated. Yet another late flight (Saturday I took a day trip to Bangkok for a business meeting – left at 6 AM and returned at 1 AM) and the airport delays, I have missed my function. The night before the conference (tonight) there is a dinner and keynote address. I am supposed to be at the speaker’s table. That’s not going to happen now. Ah well.
On the surface Shanghai is looking more and more like a scene from a science fiction movie. Lights and architecture are strategically juxtaposed to create a highly futuristic picture. In the 1920s Shanghai was one of the planet’s top metropolises. Born again the city is rapidly winning back it’s buzzy, happening image.
But lurking beneath the surface there remains a disorganized system that lacks horsepower. Economists know this all too well. Anyone who takes a gander at Southern China’s economic stats will see that Shanghai’s contribution is minute compared to the Pearl River Delta. And even the statistics that dwarf Shanghai are in turn dwarfed by Hong Kong’s twelve cylinder, highly developed economic and legal engine. Yes, Shanghai sure looks sexy, but it will still take years to catch-up to the economic and legal muscle Hong Kong boasts.
In the meantime it is a great city to visit as long as one keeps their temper in check.
Grrrr…
Friends from Victoria, Canada
Last week, we had friends visit from Canada: Paul & Fran. Unfortunately, this was when the "spiking fever" and "new improved flu" was racing through our household and we weren’t able to spend as much time with them as we would have liked. Paul and Fran spent three weeks in China with friends, then came through Hong Kong. I know them from when I lived in Vancouver, Canada, and travelled each week for more than a year to Victoria on Vancouver Island to lead Landmark Education seminars. For almost the entire year Paul sat in my seminars, generating his own value (despite my abilities) and Fran attended a few sessions, too.
The weekly trip was always a wonderful escape often rich with irony or coincidence of some sort. I would be dropped off at the Tsawassen Ferry early afternoon. I typically spent the 1.5 hour trip in the dining room at the back of the ship watching the water float off behind us as I worked or read. Leading the sessions was energizing, too. One of the best parts of my weekly visits to Victoria was after each session, when the seminarians including Paul, and yours truly met at a local Victoria pub called Swans. On Wednesday nights Swans had a live band. One band in particular always reminded me of my brother-in-law, Dave Harris, who loves music – including bluegrass – and throughout his lifetime has jammed his way through many years, with many friends and a variety of bands. One night in Swans, after a uniquely inspiring bluegrass session, I drifted up to the ad hoc stage to compliment the group during one of their breaks. I got the shock of my life when I discovered the leader of the band was also named Dave Harris.
Paul & Fran’s visit brought back all these memories and we had a very special time in Hong Kong, albeit a bit short. The afternoon before leaving they came to visit the whole family in our building’s playground. The weather was gorgeous and I suggested they walk back to town along a beautiful walking path that Tess & I love. When it came time to leave, I strapped Jasper into a small stroller and the two of us escorted Paul & Fran to the start of the path behind Queen Mary Hospital. There we said good-bye, which was very hard and I wish I’d handled it better or said something more poignant. In a moment all those months travelling to Victoria flashed through my mind’s eye, plus all the other times we’d seen each other upon return visits to Vancouver Island or their visits to Vancouver. Now Hong Kong had been added to the journey stretched out behind us. There were few words to describe that moment of seeing them walk away down the path while Jasper and I turned back towards home. How my life has changed. I try not to hold onto the past because I believe in the future.
The attached pics are ones Fran and Paul took on their visit.
How do you measure time?
Strange question? Perhaps, considering that we all know time is measured in seconds, hours, days and years. As balanced and scientifically accurate that measurement of time might be, the units we use to determine the passing of epoch are still man made. While we unassumingly march through each day, week and month, there are other milestones that mark the passage of time that have little to do with the units our wrist watches each measure. What are they for you?
Years ago I kept a journal. As ridiculous as it may seem, I started journaling in 1968 when my family took a seven month cruise from Toronto to the Bahamas. Having little understanding how to write about my feelings or interpretations of life around me – of which there was an amazing array of wonder as we sailed on our 28 footer – I mainly wrote about what happened… “today I woke-up, had breakfast, brushed my teeth, Daddy caught a fish.” I wrote silly things and a few years after the trip threw out that short, boring diary. Wow, do I regret that now.
No matter, about six years later at twelve years old, inspired by a very good friend, Bruce MacDonald, I put pen to paper again. Here the real writing began. As a teenager and young adult – and even my MBTI score today – I am an incredible introvert. Writing was a big outlet for me. From twelve to twenty-seven I filled twenty-eight 300 odd page books with thoughts. As I progressed and developed my writing skills, each book took on a theme. Each book marked the passing of time. The assumption was this… if one volume represented a year of wisdom or living or experience, then three volumes in one year would represent three times the wisdom or living or experience. Volume 28, commenced in 1990 while I was on my first trip to Asia. I was in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia at the time. The theme of that book was, “Going Global.” Volume 28 sits unfinished in my bed side table in Hong Kong. Time standing still?
Not for me… the events of my life have me acutely aware of the passing of time. Right now Tess & I are lazing next to the pool of the Bangkok Peninsula. Cool beer in hand on a warm, sunny Asian afternoon – another time marker similar to that late afternoon in KL when I commenced Volume 28. And yesterday, we had our Executive Health Check-Up at the Bumrungrad Hospital. Another time marker as it represented the second major physical check-up of my middle aged years. Fortunately, I passed with flying colours but wow, what a stressful day as we were poked and prodded. I hate when doctors stop, examine closer, frown and then report, “The doctor will update you at the end of the day.” As we left the hospital I was acutely aware that another “Health Check-Up” lay under my belt. Another notch on the tree of time.
What are other ways I measure time?
I used to measure time by the passing of school years. In fact, even to this day when I call into my mind’s eye the start of a new school year, it always "looks" like Spring despite starting in the Fall.
During the summers I attended sailing school at the Royal Canadian Yacht Club in Toronto, Canada. Each summer represented another marker in time, towards what I was not sure and to this day have yet to answer.
Pictures are a big time scale for people… especially when rolls of film remain in cameras for a long time. How often have you picked up a freshly developed roll of film from the camera store and been surprised by hat you find inside… "Wow, I forgot about the pictures at the beginning of this role," people often say.
Music is another major time marker. I tend to equate eras of my life with music. During the mid to late 80s I was a big fan of New Wave and the British Invasion. I have tapes of those days that easily stimulate long dormant memories when played. If I were to single out one musical constant in my life it would be Elton John. He first appeared in the Charles’ screenplay when I was eleven years old – I bought my sister Carolyn "Good-Bye Yellow Brick Road" in 1973 for Christmas. We all wore that record into scratched oblivion and thirty-two years later Elton John remains one of my all time favourite artists. A few years ahead of me in time, I have often thought that the day Elton John dies will be an epochial stake in the ground for yours truly.
This of course brings me to the ultimate measurement of time…dying. Years ago I ran a company in Toronto called BC Yachts Services. Every once in a while I hear of another elderly person in Toronto passing away, who years ago was a client. My friend, David, life long friend who now lives in Hong Kong, often says to me, "only a few people left and the grim reaper will start on our generation." Sometimes he is even more pointed and says, "we’re next."
Tess would roll her eyes at all this, of course. Much more practical than I, Tess wouldn’t care how anyone measured time as long as it didn’t cost much. If I measured time by the production of writing (27.5) then Tess might measure time by the consumption of writing, in which case she’d be much further ahead, and no surprise, much more wise: Tess reads about 27.5 books per month!
Women measure time in different units than men. Therefore, it would probably seem ludicrous to Tess that I measure time with cars. Cars are far too expensive a time marker for Tess! Still, they represent the passing of time, especially for me. Long time ago my dad gave me some excellent advice: "Always get a picture of yourself with every car you own. You’ll figure out why later."
The first weekend after we returned from Fintry (there is another time marker: visits to Fintry) I had a colleague from India visit Hong Kong. During his visit Tess and I took him to dinner at The Peak. Just as we parked the car the radiator ruptured. When the car came back the next week from Mr. Lau, the mechanic, I was very conscious of the fact there was still something very wrong with the car. It smelled expensive so I was better off investing repair money into another car instead of trying to fix The Blue Car. Therefore, I embarked on a project to replace The Blue Car. After a number of false starts I had pretty much given up on the project, resigning myself to drive The Blue Car into the ground. Then, on a whim and a prayer, The Silver Car came round the bend. The Blue Car is a 1994 Renault Espace. The Silver Car is a 2002 Renault Espace. Everything clicked into place and the transfer took place after returning from India on October 8th.
As most readers will know or suspect, Sebastian was a huge fan of The Blue Car. We had to build-up The Silver Car quite a bit to convince him that the change was a good thing. That afternoon Sebastian and I waited for Eddie to arrive from Triple Rich Motors. Seb pretended to drive The Blue Car while I tinkered around with some last minute clearing out. Once Eddie arrived we signed all the paper work. Then I asked, “Eddie, will you take a picture of Sebastian and I next to the car?” Eddie of course agreed.
I said to Sebastian, “Come on, Seb, we have to have one last picture with The Blue Car.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Always take a picture of every car you own, Sebastian. Trust me, someday you’ll figure out why,” I replied.
Eddie snapped the digital pic – we haven’t even touched on how the evolution of technology represents the passage of time – while Seb and I posed. As Eddie pushed the digital shutter button many images flittered through the back of my mind – 1975 Honda Civic… 1989 Honda Civic Si… 1984 Porsche 944… 1989 730i BMW. My mind floated back to the day I took possession of The Blue Car… the Terrific Trio lay in the NICU only a few days old. I was determined to drive The Blue Car as witness that every single one of them would live and someday we would drive as a family in the vehicle. Saying good-bye to The Blue Car was symbolic of the Terrific Trio growing up, entering a new phase in their vivid lives. Snapped out of my day dream, Eddie handed back the camera and crawled into The Blue Car. He accepted it as a trade-in, which was miraculous considering its condition. The Blue Car reluctantly started. Eddie eased away.
“Say good-bye to The Blue Car,” I instructed Sebastian.
“Bah bye, Blue Car!” Sebastian said excitedly as he waved.
The Blue Car slipped away and disappeared from our sight. Sebastian was somewhat oblivious to the event. In front of him sat The Silver Car – also known as The Silver Spaceship or the Tot Yacht – and there was plenty of driving and playing to be done. But for me, I was cognizant of the fact Father Time had conceded a little more as the Great Mechanic in the Sky punched yet another milestone in the time clock of life.
Bangkok Bound
Tess and I are on our way to Bangkok for a health check-up at Asia’s Mayo Clinic… The Bumrumgrad Hospital. Fortunately they don’t have Mayo prices. Then we spend the rest of the weekend in Bangkok to rejuvenate and refresh.
I was sent a very cute joke the other day that I will share with you… appropriate considering my company and that we recently bought an Israel company, too.
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After digging to a depth of 100 meters last year, Russian scientists found traces of copper wire dating back 1000 years, and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network one thousand years ago.
So, not to be outdone, in the weeks that followed, American scientists dug 200 meters and headlines in the US papers read: US scientists have found traces of 2000 year old optical fibers, and have concluded that their ancestors already had advanced high-tech digital telephone 1000 years earlier than the Russians.
One week later, the Israeli newspapers reported the following: After digging as deep as 500 meters, Israeli scientists have found absolutely nothing. They have concluded that 5000 years ago, their ancestors were already using wireless technology.
