Theories and Musings – Page 2

4 of the Funniest Things People Think about Americans

Some call them stereotypical through disgusted grimaces. Some call them edgy through wry smiles. Still others call them signs of cultural harmony with glistening eyes.

Whatever you call them, and however you do it, there’s no denying the power of a cross-cultural joke to turn heads.

Among them all, there’s a certain flavor of cross-cultural joke that I find particularly funny. I’m not talking about “Why did the Italian cross the road?” or “What do you get when you cross an American with a Bolivian?” or “A German, a Russian and an Englishman walk into a bar…” Rather, I’m talking about a brand of joke you might encounter every day without even realizing it’s been made–a Seinfeldian brand of observational cross-cultural humor.

Wondering what I mean? Here are the funniest, most often repeated observations about American culture I’ve heard so far.

Let’s do this!

#1 Gun Ownership

I’m in a seminar called Behavioral Pricing. Our lecturer shows us a German advertisement for food that promises a donation of 1% of every sale to a small, local farm. The discount is an example of a psychological tactic that links the purchase of that food with “fairness,” which is evidently a very common and deeply-rooted German value.

A classmate raises his hand to ask a question. “But something like that wouldn’t work in all countries, or?” (he’s German) “In America, for instance, they don’t seem to care about ‘the little guy’ as much.”

“Yes, of course you have a point,” replies the lecturer. “The nature of the market will always determine whether or not a tactic is effective. Maybe if they promised to donate to small gun makers, or something…”

The lolz were real that day.

#2 Cavalier Capitalism

Gonna power that death lazer. Image Source: dailymail.co.uk — Gonna power that death laser.
Image Source: dailymail.co.uk

Especially among the people I’ve met on the entrepreneurship/management side of my master program, the U.S. is sometimes half-respected, half-mocked as a sort of test bed for commercial innovation. They cite the amount of money a startup can raise from a single venture capitalist in the States (millions, compared to hundreds of thousands at best in Germany). They also cite the number of banned substances in the cosmetics industry (1,371 in the EU, only 9 in the US).

Your chimp-powered death laser idea might hit all sorts of red tape here in Europe. Go the US, find the right investor, and you’ll have your monkey motor case studies in no time.

#3 American Friendship

Our friendship is not Western European friendship. We’re friends with our barbers and hair stylists. We’re friends with that coworker who got drunk and told us he hates his boss. We’re friends with the mailman (but not that other mailman). If we’re familiar with someone and we don’t hate them, what other option is there?

I’m exaggerating, but that’s what American friendship seems to look like to a lot of Europe. And, let’s be honest, it’s not very far from the truth.

Western European friendship is different. Classmates? No. Coworkers? No. That girl who’s always at the same parties as you? Not even her. “Friend” is a really special word. It might mean something close to what “best friend” means to many of us in the States. A friend is one of your go-to people, one of your secret-keepers, one of your crew. Not one of your acquaintances.

My favorite example of this joke in action happened two months ago. I’m in a seminar, listening to a small business owner talk about the business they own. His product is a social networking smartphone app that lets a group of friends go on multi-dates with other groups of friends they don’t yet know.

One of my classmates asks “How do you guys ensure that creeps don’t sign up with your group and ruin the evening for everyone?”

The business owner grinned and said “Well, you have to really know the people in your group before you sign up. We are promoting real friendship, here. Not American friendship.” The class just ate that up.

I guess a good way to sum this all up is that we from the US will get to know you by inviting you to our apartment for the pre-game with our best friends. Here (at least in Germany), you can just meet us all at the bar. What are we? Friends or something?

#4 Donald Trump

#makedonalddrumpfagain — Source: Reuters

At home, this guy is scaring the hell out of a lot of people (partially by making so many of those other people so happy). Here, at a safe distance, he’s just…well, okay he’s still scaring the hell out of a lot of people. Remember this? Now, imagine Donald Trump in old Georgy Boy’s place. I’m so sorry I just made you do that.

Trump comes up whenever politics comes up, recently. Every single time, the conversation starts in the same way these two did:

I’m sitting in a classroom, waiting for a seminar to start. A few minutes go by and my Irish friend Mark walks in the room. He puts down his things, walks across the room to where I’m sitting, rests on a nearby desk, and smiles. “So. Uh. Donald Trump?”
I’m sitting in a restaurant with some friends, waiting for the rest to arrive so we can set the food in motion. Swedish friend Erick arrives. After a brief moment, he walks over to my chair, places his hand on the back of it, leans in and smiles. “So. Uh. Donald Trump?”

Every single time.

What if We Stopped Learning to Speak Other Languages?

When’s the last time you learned a second language? What was learning it like?

I’ve been learning second languages for awhile, now. I made it through the German classroom circuit about a year ago, and now I’m in my streets phase with the language. In college, I studied Mandarin. As a child and then again in Junior High and High School, I learned Spanish. Sure, every language has its weird/unique mind games it can play with non-natives: German breaks more rules than it even has, learning to speak and write Mandarin basically means learning two languages at once, and Spanish has as many verb tenses as it has polite expressions that mean something dirty if you wink while you say them (lots and lots).

Despite the idiosyncrasies, learning a language is always the same in at least one respect: you can understand it before you can speak it.

And what was it like when you started using that shiny new second language you studied? Or, what’s it like using it now that it’s worn, flexible and maybe a little dirty? Have you ever wished you could simply communicate in your native tongue for just one second because you knew you’d be funnier, smarter, friendlier, more eloquent if doing so were appropriate?

Those two ideas have been stuck in my head for a good while, and they’re really making me wonder if life would improve if we all stopped learning to speak second languages. I know, I know, there’s at least one huge problem with that. I’ll get to it in a bit.

For now, imagine what it would be like if you only had to learn to understand other languages. For one, it would be much easier to integrate one’s self into a foreign society. When it comes to understanding, you’re usually ready to go after a few months in a local language class. If teachers could remove all of the speaking exercises from class, fluency in understanding would come even quicker. Perhaps this would make learning more than one second language more common (among those who aren’t officially language students or don’t speak a Latinate language natively).

An implication of this is that learning a language could be an exercise in adaptation rather than preparation. We could wait until it looks like needing the language is likely before we commit to learning it. Contrast that with the current approach: we spend years before and during college learning a language that might never be relevant during our particular lives. I, for example, studied Spanish as a child, because Mexico and Texas are sharing each other’s cultures more and more every year. As it turns out, Spanish has become very useful to me during my particular life. My girlfriend is Mexican, after all.

And now we live in Germany. Predictable needs for language skills, right?

Another aspect of life made better is maintaining proficiency in a language when you’re not using it. Lack of practice has to be the most common reason people are weak in a second language, even though they’ve studied it. My Mandarin was great when I was in college. Now, I sound like I’m trying to teach myself quantum physics, and that’s because I’ve been in precisely 0 situations that demanded my control of Mandarin since then.

To practice speaking, you need a speaking partner. Until you move to the country that speaks your second language natively, finding a speaking partner is tough. Practicing listening, though? Honing your ability to understand the language? That’s a piece of cake, no matter where you are. Subscribe to a podcast, tell YouTube you live in the language’s home country, watch movies in that language, find music on Spotify, Google online news media in the language, download a language pack for that video game you play once a day, change the OS language on your PC. Options for improving understanding are all over the place.

So, what would a bilingual conversation feel like? I think it feels really cool. Roxana and I have them every now and then. The results are maximum clarity and almost maximum comfort for both parties–Rox freaks out a little bit after a few minutes of conversation 🙂 Incidentally, this is also how almost the entire television show “Lillyhammer” works–the main character speaks English, while every other character speaks Norwegian. Bilingual conversations look cool, as well.

I’ve tried the approach with some German friends (without them knowing this is what I was doing). For about a minute, we’re having an especially cool conversation. They’re speaking German, while I’m speaking English. My mind feels fresh and energetic. I’m relaxed, as I assume are they. After the minute, though, my German friend will usually switch to English, presumably because they think I prefer English and they want to be nice. Then, I feel lazy and switch to German, and by the end of the conversation, I’m tired. It’s ultimately a really good mental exercise, but I’ve learned without a doubt that speaking is more mentally taxing than is understanding.

Despite its coolness, this supposed solution does not solve an existing problem. We could call it the Lingua Franca problem.

Today, the western world’s Lingua Franca is English–it’s the bridge language that most commonly connects people who don’t speak each other’s native language. If the bridge doesn’t connect both sides of the conversation, however, communication is not possible. That’s not necessarily praise or criticism. Just reality.

The “understanding only” system I describe in this post doesn’t fix this problem. At best, a conversation in the “understanding only” system would be one-sided if the language I speak doesn’t appear on the list of languages you understand. Communication between us would not be effective, unless you were my boss and our company ran on peon blood.

In fact, there could be no Lingua Franca in the “understanding only” system. We’d all be proficient speakers in only one language. If everyone on earth learned to understand English, that would mean nothing if the English-speaking world refused to learn to understand other languages. Or, what if English speakers tended to learn other languages, but not my language? That would suck–I would need to learn to speak English, even though speakers of other languages could get by with their comfortable native tongue.

And UN meetings would probably be complete messes.

But, every solution to international communication so far has its problems. It’s hard to motivate the world to learn and practice Esperanto. And, when an existing world language is the Lingua Franca (the current system), that arguably gives countries where the language is native an upper hand on the world stage.

Thought experiments are fun, aren’t they?

People Who Will Drive You Nuts: Munich Edition

Nothing on this planet is more selfish, careless or downright evil than a stranger. Am I right? Just think about one of those jerks right now. Who does he think he is? What’s her game, anyway? You’re getting angry now, right? Good.

As I was saying, strangers–the most selfish baskets of turd sandwiches in existence. What’s terrifying is that they live in every city on Earth. Even yours. In Dallas, for example, one such person wastes half of every green traffic light just sitting in front of it in their car. Maybe they’re putting on makeup. Maybe they’re texting. Maybe they’re shaving. Maybe they’re brainless.

In New York, I’ve heard that the most annoying of these jerks are the ones who will cut in front of one or more lanes of traffic just to make a left turn. Waiting a block to turn is for chumps.

This post is about Munich’s brand of jackassy stranger, complete with hilariously rage-inducing photos. The photos aren’t mine, but I’ll tell you where you can find the owner. I thought about photographing these people myself, but every time I try to imagine doing so, this happens in my head:

Selfish Douchebag: “Hey buddy, did you just take my picture?”

Me: (Laughing awkwardly) “Uh, yeah, sort of, I guess.”

Selfish Douchebag: “Why?

Me: “Because you’re being an ass, and I want people to see this on my blog.”

***

Anyway, let’s do this!

1. Person Who Leans on the Pole in the Subway Car

Either start dancing or give us some room. Source: towngrump.wordpress.com — Source: towngrump.wordpress.com

If you’ve ever seen one of the poles in a subway car before, then I don’t need to tell you how awe inspiring they are. For less raw material than it takes to make a car door, you can prevent 7-10 people from becoming human missiles during a train ride. Breathtaking.

Sometimes, though, you encounter a testament to human evolution like the person in the photo on the right. They see all of that tasty surface area and think to themselves “Finally! My entire back has been begging me all day for one of those!” And in their comfort, they never realize exactly how much chaos they’ve prepared to set in motion.

They will, though. All subway cars need to turn at some point, and when theirs finally does, 6-9 people won’t be holding onto anything.

2. Person Who Only Opens One Door of the Subway Car

For a calorie cost more or less equivalent to opening one’s eyes in the morning, you can double the size of the hole in that car, allowing untold numbers of people freedom from their BO prison on rails. If that realization just took your breath away, then you know how I feel. Exactly.

3. Person Who Stands on the Left Side of the Escalator

Very few places in your average developed city inspire hurrying more than underground metro stations. Even in a well-run city like Munich, they all fall on a continuum between two evils: Really, really boring (Feldmoching) and completely drenched in urine (Marienplatz). You want to spend the absolute minimum amount of time possible in those things, is what I’m saying.

Fortunately, you can look forward to the escalator–a time-saving marvel of the modern world. Imagine taking the stairs with the gift of super speed, and you’ve just had the same dream as the inventors of this godsend. Outstanding.

Then, you run into this turd basket. Everyone else is in the most politely organized single-file line you can imagine along the right side of the escalator. They’re making way for anyone who would rather walk their way to freedom from the metro’s bowels. This human blessing, however, is casually spaced out and standing right in the middle of the path they created.

I think the esoteric term for this kind of stranger is “tourist.”

4. Little Old Lady with Jacket and Bag

She’s older than the average fossil, smaller than the average toddler, and she’s somehow going to be in your way for the next 20 minutes of your walk.

She’s also completely immune to any attempt to get her out of your way. Because, you know. Old. If doing anything in this life causes dead kittens, then harassing little old ladies is one of them.

Being stuck behind one of these will very likely push your heart rate to the brink of time travel. But on the bright side, she’s adorable. So there’s that.

Life Lessons from Living Abroad: Facebook Debates

You definitely don’t have to read my blog in order to get the idea that living in another country does wonders for your self awareness–the entire internet of expatriats will tell you that. Each time an aspect of a person’s life changes, there’s the chance that that person will need to bounce new information off of their beliefs, attitudes and values in order to continue making sense of the world. Maybe, for example, I believe that English is the world’s language, even though the world is full of other languages that are thriving. I take that belief with me to Germany, where I know everyone learns English to a level of very high competence. Enculturation should be absolutely no problem for me, right? I can just speak English to everyone!

Then, I get to Germany, and English it up with everyone I see. Everything feels smooth–the people I meet are friendly and can, in fact, speak English very well. But, then I learn a little German, and begin practicing it with people I don’t know in random situations.

What a difference.

While people are friendly when approached in English, the friendliness of unknown people (you can never test theories about humanity on your friends, unless you’re into sample bias) reaches noticeably new heights. Where I used to receive short responses and polite smiles, I now receive jokes, laughter and friendly smiles. Even when I speak bad German. But enculturation is smooth if English is so widespread, right?

So, I reexamine my original belief in light of this new information. Do I change my original belief to accommodate it (enculturation is way easier if you learn the local language)? Do I consider this experience an unimportant fluke and disregard it? Or, do I add information to my discovery so that I can still believe both things (enculturation is still easy with English, except in Munich, where people seem to prefer the local language)?

I can’t exactly say that the above experience is mine, since I enrolled in my first German course before I even arrived. But it’s totally relatable and I also can’t exactly say it’s not mine, either. So there it is.

What actually is happening to me involves my love of debate, my (physical) separation from most of my closest friends, and my daily reliance on the Internet. After almost 10 years of using it, I’m beginning to consider Facebook a legitimate outlet for opinion. And because I’ve always seen the Facebook mini feed as the domain of cat owners, amateur chefs and nosy employers, I’m not sure whether or not I should feel good about that.

I’ve always argued with people on niche websites–underneath TED Talks, on YouTube channels, in subreddits, and on and on. But I’ve also always had outlets for discussion in the real world: my friends. I absolutely love talking about different sides of a controversial issue with friends. Many times I even adopt a point of view that I don’t believe, so that I can see how other people would defend the opposite. For example, I told some friends at work back in the US that Christmas is our first opportunity to teach our kids disappointment and skepticism. Eventually, we tell them that everything they thought was magic about the holiday doesn’t really exist, and that their parents made it up so that it would make them feel good. My friends were outraged, and they argued back, asking me questions that forced me to think about the positive aspects of Christmas (“And what would your early years have been like without Christmas?”).

We were close, so eventually it got to the point where, on the weekends, my friends would toast and take a drink every time I put an off-the-wall opinion or question on the table. And then they would argue back. I could get away with questions and comments that would make acquaintances uncomfortable, because my friends were comfortable enough with our relationship to…adequately voice their bafflement.

Now, in Munich, all of my friendships (except for one important one) are brand new. This means that I hold back during discussions that arise without my help, and refrain altogether from starting controversial discussions. For now.

In the meantime, I still need that outlet. That means I need a reason to argue, and I need people who will argue back. Also, in the meantime, my Facebook mini feed has become more interesting (or maybe I’m just noticing the interesting parts, now). Some of my friends have been putting their own ideas in their feed or extolling the value of someone else’s idea. For instance, a link to this article coupled with an opinion on the state of US Medicaid appeared in my feed earlier this evening:

Texas’ Other Death Penalty

An old friend Isaac posted that to Facebook, encouraging us to think about the benefits of an expanded Medicaid system. The thing is, I’m completely confused by that article, emotionally. The article itself is extremely inspiring. But, if someone doesn’t treat the comment section growing out of the bottom of it soon, it may metastasize and kill its host. The short version of the experience is this:

Author/Doctor: “We should save people. I can explain why.”

People: “FAGGOTIDIOTRETARDWARDEATHMACHINEBIGOTRACISMGODISDEAD”

I wanted to say those things on Facebook, in the comments beneath his post. The point of doing so would be to say that, while the notion of doing everything we can to save people is uplifting and inspiring, my impression is that that kind of altruism exists nowhere except for in the minds of people who explicitly build their lives around it (i.e. begin a career that functions on altruism). If I did post that comment, I would wonder what the other people reading that article through my friend’s post were thinking. Can they find comfort in that comment section? Can they find discomfort in that article? Socialized medicine is a big deal, after all. But each time my fingers touched the keyboard, something in my mind begged me not to go through with it. It was mumbling most of the time, and it may have had Kool-Aid on its breath, but what it said sounded something like “Don’t do that, man. You’re supposed to watch what you say on Facebook. This place represents the diversity of your personal relationships more than any other. When you blast opinions all over it, then you’re bound to alienate someone.”

But, isn’t the point of discussing opinions “alienating” someone else? Isn’t someone else supposed to read or hear your opinion, and then think “WHAT!?” and then ask you why it’s your opinion? Then you tell them and ask why they asked? Isn’t that how the original poster and the alienated reader both learn?

So, why is it that I’m so reserved about posting opinions on Facebook? What could go wrong?

As of now, I’m not sure what could go wrong, or how I feel about using Facebook as a debate outlet, myself. Practically speaking, Facebook is so rife with nitpickery over the value of posts (I’m sure you’ve read the best practice lists about cat posts and food posts) that many attempts at conversation would go unnoticed and therefore unanswered. Honestly speaking, though, there’s always the chance I could take my love of controversy too far one day and, lacking the anonymity I enjoy on the rest of the web, pariah my way out of my friends’ feeds. After all, trolling random people is a lot safer than trolling your friends. So, for the time being, I’ll stay away from Facebook as a forum for debate.

Fortunately for me, though, I do have a blog.

Beware: A Marketer Approacheth

The life of a marketer begins in high school, probably during the future soul stealer’s junior year, when they’re approached by a bearded man in a derby and a trench coat. It’s always that guy. “Psst,” he whispers from shadows, the looks of which suggest that he himself created them. “Listen. You want to make money, right? Major in Business when you go to college.”

Many of us are confused at first, since the leap from “making money” to “majoring in business” seems pretty far to a lowly high school student.

“Seriously, though. Want to be a Doctor? Med schools like Business students. Then, you have the know-how to run your own practice! Want to be a Lawyer? Same thing! And then, of course, there’s doing something that they teach you directly, like accounting or investment banking. Endless opportunities!”

At this point, most of us are sold. The rest will change their major to Business when they realize they hate writing Literary Analysis papers as Liberal Arts Majors.

Fresh off the graduation stage, we move on to Business School, where we assume we’ll major in one of the more popular and altruistic disciplines like Accounting or Finance (Lehmann and Enron, you guys were diamonds in the rough). After all, we want to make money, right? What better way to do that than to spend our career swimming in someone else’s?

But those of us destined for true greatness receive the call at the beginning of our Sophomore year, once we’ve gotten our meaningless courses like Economics and Biology and Calculus out of the way. There’s no point in studying the way the world works if I’m going to be deciding how it works, anyway. Right?

As I was saying: The invitation emanates through our laptop speakers one night, during a routine binge on Malcom Gladwell TED Talks. A disembodied voice, neither completely male nor completely female, beckons right as our “perfect Pepsis” chills set in. “If you want to realize your true potential, report to the Marketing Office tomorrow morning at 6:66.” That’s all the voice says before the Folger’s jingle begins playing through our speakers.

I remember the following day more vividly than any other in my life, and not just because the sun rose an hour later than usual. It was the morning I met the Marketing Program Director–the owner of the disembodied voice. I stepped into their office at precisely 7:06, from the smooth, reflective tile floor of the University hallway to the uneven mortar-bound stone within. My heart tried to pound its way from my chest in my mixture of excitement and anxiety. What did the voice mean by “realize your true potential?” I had to know, but part of me was terrified by the prospect of an answer.

The echoing sound of water dripping into distant pools on the stone floor kept me company as I waited on a steel bench for the Marketing Program Director to see me. I remember bowing my head and closing my eyes to focus on the sound of the water, until I felt a sudden change. My skin chilled, as if to tell me that the office had suddenly become a walk-in freezer. My insides, however, floated in warm bath water. My instincts raised my head and opened my eyes so that I could see the new figure in front of me. The Director wore an ashen cloak, tightened at the waist by a deep red sash. A hood covered the Director’s head, obscuring their entire face in shadow, but for two glowing red eyes.

The Director spoke, bellowing distinctly sulfuric breath from under the hood they wore. “You probably plan on majoring in Finance or Accounting, don’t you?”

My own disposition surprised me. I felt completely at home with the Director, like I were talking about my eating habits with the world’s most accomplished dietitian. “Well, yeah, I think so. They seem to be the routes that open the most doors for a graduate.”

The Director’s subsequent laugh instilled in me a shame I didn’t fully understand. “Really?” The Director asked in disbelief. “You’re looking for a degree with security attached to it?” The cloaked figure spat the word “security” like a seed one finds in a watermelon.

“Everyone who matters is a marketer,” continued the Director. “CEOs are Marketers. Consultants are Marketers. Parents are Marketers. And yes, even Teachers are Marketers. What do these people have in common, Ryan?”

I hesitated.

“They control other people. Yes, Ryan. These people make their living on control–on literal self-empowerment. Don’t you want that?”

I hesitated again, but for a shorter time. “Actually, yes. I think I would really like that.”

“Good.” The warmhearted hiss of the director gripped my very soul that instant. I knew I wanted to be a Marketer. But what next?

The Director, having absorbed the thoughts directly from my head, continued: “Before you begin your Marketing training, you must pass one test.”

“Good,” I eagerly replied. “I’m ready for anything. What do I have to do?”

The challenge slithered out from under the hood: “Leave this building.” Then the Director vanished in a ball of fire, the building burst into flames, and a folder full of three peoples’ private personal data manifested itself in my hands.

To leave the building, I had to examine the personal data in my folder and make use of the resulting insight. Specifically, I used fear to convince a member of the Football team to ram his way through a burning door so that I could pass through unscathed (“Your father wouldn’t be happy to learn that he won the war so that his son could cower in front of burning doors, would he?”). Then, I assumed an air of authority in order to recruit two beautiful yet insecure cheerleaders to my cause (“fire’s actually quite predictable when you come from a family of Fire Marshals”). My third and final task involved the maintenance manager. He had a hose attached to a water fixture, but the system’s pressure had plummeted when a pipe ruptured in the inferno. It would just barely stall the flame’s spread, nothing more. Working with the cheerleaders, I appealed to the maintenance manager’s sense of sexuality ([details omitted]), after which he happily stayed behind with the faulty hose to stall the blaze and allow for my narrow escape.

Having survived the test, I would begin my training in the morning.

Our first Marketing course was MKT 302: Principles of Contemporary Manipulation. I remember staring awestruck at its nameless textbook, bound in Furby skin and treated with the blood of Apple Fanboys. I can feel that book in my hands every time I catch the scent of sulfur.

At the end of my first year came my first sales presentation, wherein I had to convince a group of girl scouts to pay me to take their cookies from them. The topic in class at the time was “product positioning,” so my task was to convince the scouts that my possession of the cookies was a valuable source of word-of-mouth promotion to the rest of their market. Therefore, they should pay me for the service. After some quick reach/frequency estimates, we agreed on a CPM that, well, let’s just say that student debt is not a problem, now.

My second year brought with it another fond memory: our first corporate guest speaker. He was YoYo’s Product Manager, and he showed up in my “Fads: The Science of Commercial Compulsion” class. He explained, quite simply, that creating a fad only requires that a marketer understand how gullible humanity is, and that they have access to a data warehouse full of their market’s personal information. Then, you just make it look like cool people are already using your product. I reminisce now on his final words to us. Pulling the side of his cape in to cover his mouth, he whispered “Consumption is as stupid does.” And then he vanished in a puff of smoke.

And the rest is history. Upon graduation, world control would finally be within my grasp. More than anything else in life, I thank my Marketing education for the opportunity.