Dear Stanley,
The majority of my team members in a large company are Chinese born — including my boss. They often speak in Chinese, yet the majority of employees companywide are U.S. born. How do I point out that this is not appropriate? Through HR? Through the boss’s boss? Or directly to my boss?
Not Getting It
Dear NGI,
I would suggest you stay away from HR on this one. What are they going to do for you, complain to the boss that the ruling cadre speaks Mandarin? They’re probably scared of the Chinese management, too.
I would do two things. First, I would get used to saying, when Chinese is spoken around you, “Guys! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Chinese! Please! Give me a break!” If you do this with humor and good will, I believe a reasonable percentage of the problem will be solved. You’re experiencing all the problems suffered by outsiders everywhere. Women suffer it from the male majority every day, as men repair to their own bathrooms to chat over parallel stalls or hunker down over big, brown drinks at all-too-male bars after work. A step at a time, a conversation or intervention at a time, women are working to break down those gaps in communication without resorting to petitions to HR or the implementation of unisex washrooms. It takes a guts and a willingness to confront those who — inadvertently or not — continue to maintain their power through exclusivity of language and discourse. So don’t be shy about asserting your right to understand and communicate. This is business. Your concerns are valid.
Second, I would learn to say, “I don’t speak Chinese” in Chinese. I would then extend my knowledge of certain key phrases, too. No, you’re never going to know Chinese. But you will know just enough to show that you’re trying. All cultures, but certainly dominant ones that are proud of their heritage, love to make other people speak their language. The French, for instance, will only speak to you if you try to speak to them in their own tongue. They don’t care if you fail, but you must try. Your willingness to learn a little of the prevailing lingo will immediately make those who are shutting you out want to let you in. They may even give you a few lessons as they laugh at your feeble attempts to say, “What’s the bottom line?” in Cantonese.
A few years ago, I was a writer and an actor working in New York. One day I was invited to join a division of the old Westinghouse as a per diem. Boy, were those people weird. It took me three months to master the Westinghouse language — a brand new tongue that seemed to focus on words like “excellence,” “quality,” and “performance metrics” — and find a pair of wing-tipped shoes that didn’t kill my feet. Only once I had done all of that was I made an employee.
