China without Chips
By Jenna Barclay JGSM '10
Issue date: 12/1/09 Section: Perspectives
Business school education can be boiled down to the Sage Social: friends and chips. There is the business of making friends. There is the business of making chips. There is the business of making friends over chips, and the business of making chips with friends. We cultivate our networks, and we accumulate our bargaining chips. Then, like hell, we leverage. But, what about a student's leveraging power in a land with no chips? This is my story of China.
* * *
My classmate and I were staying in Hutong, the historic district of Beijing-a labyrinth of medieval streets filled with the jolliest of residents. Whether carrying bricks, pushing wheelbarrows, playing cards on the roadside, dancing aerobics in the park, these Beijingers demonstrated a joy unfamiliar and unexpected.
The hotel valet had given us an expensive cigar to apologize for his delay in having to ask a friend to exchange his counterfeit bill with a real bill for our change. Wei bi, the bank-issued counterfeit currency, was a problem in the area, but the locals seemed to have a knack for identifying the faulty bills. How friendly.
We were en route to the Great Wall. At the bus depot we were greeted with the unsolicited suggestion that we go to the Samatei wall section. The cheerful voice chimed, "Samatei. Big. Great. High." What more could we want from a wall? So, off we went. Not a tourist in sight. How authentic. How friendly.
The friendliness continued when a fellow bus-goer beckoned us to disembark 30 minutes into the ride. He seemed to know our exact destination! How nice. Greeted again by an affable man chanting "Samatei, Samatei," we were led out of the bus depot. The man was shabbily dressed and had an off-putting yellow grin; however, the unmarked car in the middle of nowhere and the astronomical fare he quoted suddenly caused the whole friendly thing to evaporate.
In a land with no chips, our bargaining position had landed us in an unmarked cab. Baby blanket seat covers and smoke-stained doilies along the dashboard, we headed into the great Cheech-and-Chong-meets-the-autobahn-adventure. The man drove 90 miles an hours, wove in and out of traffic, sang Chinese anthems, and smoked like a chimney.
* * *
My classmate and I were staying in Hutong, the historic district of Beijing-a labyrinth of medieval streets filled with the jolliest of residents. Whether carrying bricks, pushing wheelbarrows, playing cards on the roadside, dancing aerobics in the park, these Beijingers demonstrated a joy unfamiliar and unexpected.
The hotel valet had given us an expensive cigar to apologize for his delay in having to ask a friend to exchange his counterfeit bill with a real bill for our change. Wei bi, the bank-issued counterfeit currency, was a problem in the area, but the locals seemed to have a knack for identifying the faulty bills. How friendly.
We were en route to the Great Wall. At the bus depot we were greeted with the unsolicited suggestion that we go to the Samatei wall section. The cheerful voice chimed, "Samatei. Big. Great. High." What more could we want from a wall? So, off we went. Not a tourist in sight. How authentic. How friendly.
The friendliness continued when a fellow bus-goer beckoned us to disembark 30 minutes into the ride. He seemed to know our exact destination! How nice. Greeted again by an affable man chanting "Samatei, Samatei," we were led out of the bus depot. The man was shabbily dressed and had an off-putting yellow grin; however, the unmarked car in the middle of nowhere and the astronomical fare he quoted suddenly caused the whole friendly thing to evaporate.
In a land with no chips, our bargaining position had landed us in an unmarked cab. Baby blanket seat covers and smoke-stained doilies along the dashboard, we headed into the great Cheech-and-Chong-meets-the-autobahn-adventure. The man drove 90 miles an hours, wove in and out of traffic, sang Chinese anthems, and smoked like a chimney.
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