I have in front of me a pile of cocktail napkins, scraps of paper, conference brochures with scribblings in the margins, pieces of hotel stationary, and the torn-off back cover of a cheap mystery paperback, where I jotted down something that seemed terribly important at the time.
Such is my research from my recent ten-day trip to Warsaw and London, spreading the employee communication Gospel, as told to me by Larry Ragan.
All of these ramblings and jottings seemed brilliant and insightful when I first wrote them down . . . and of course some of them seem less so now. But I share them with you nonetheless. Some of them may even by slightly helpful. Some of them may even be work related.
There’s quite a bit here, so I’ll space them out over a couple of days.
The highlight of the trip was definitely last Sunday, when Marc Wright of simply-communicate and his wife Bev invited Cindy and I out to their English country estate for Sunday dinner with their family.
First, though, we stopped at England’s oldest pub—in a place called Buckinghamshire, if you can believe it. This pub actually served William the Conqueror a pint of bitter when he came over in 1066. Robin of Locksley first bedded Maid Marion in one of the upstairs rooms. I tried to bed Cindy in the parking lot, for tradition's sake. She has no sense of tradition. But what a great experience anyway.
Then, it was on to the Wright Manor House, where we strolled the moors and took part in a grouse hunt. When we got back, the Butler had laid out my dinner jacket on my bed in the Oak Room, and had laid a fire and poured a spot of brandy to take the chill off.
Then, we all gathered in the drawing room, where the Butler poisoned a sacrificial IT person. The only problem with that part of the night was that nobody cared much that an IT person had been murdered, so nobody tried to solve the mystery.
Afterwards, all the ladies went somewhere else, and the men retired to the study and smoked cigars and drank brandy and talked about the state of the Empire, and why the French are such despicable creatures.
Okay . . . I made all that up. But Marc does have a great country house, and a great family. He doesn’t have a butler or a moor or a dead IT professional in his drawing room . . . but he does make his own cider from the apple trees in his yard. And it's really good cider.
And he’s a great host, too. In fact, he may be the funniest man to drink with whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking with.
We were sitting around that Sunday, after gorging ourselves on roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, and I asked why relations between the French and English are so bad.
Of course Marc has his own theory of why they don’t get along that well—and it has nothing to do with thousands of years of wars and battles and bloodshed and incest and grudges that never die.
It has to do with the fact that French people simply refuse to stand in a proper line for anything. They don’t respect the queue, Marc said.
“English people live for the queue!” he screamed. “The queue is our life. It gives order to the madness! And the French refuse to live by the queue. They just don’t do it!”
Having been in France many times, I know that he's right. You could be standing in line for 30 minutes, and some French dude will just walk right to the front. It really is enough to make you hate a whole race of people.
Marc went for a while about the lack of respect for the queue, then started a rant about stores where you have to pull a little number out of a machine, and then wait for your number to be called before you get served.
“Why do you need that?” he barked. “You don’t need to pull a stupid bloody number out of a machine if everybody would just respect the queue. What if I’m standing in queue and reading the paper and I miss my number? I have to go to the end of the line? You don’t need a number system if everybody would just respect the queue!”
But, I pointed out, there are some merits to the number-pulling system.
“For example, you can pull your number and then go shopping for other stuff in the store,” I said, meekly. “You don’t have to just stand at the meat counter the entire time.”
“OH!!!!” he said. “That is just like an American!! Isn’t that just what you did in 1939?!? You came over here in 39 and pulled your bloody number, then went shopping around for two years before coming back!!”
Now, that’s funny.
In tomorrow’s installment, I think I have some interesting insights into the differences between communicating to an English audience versus an American one. Stay tuned.
Comments (13)
Dear Mr Crescenzo,
On airing your room in the West Wing we found some of your private papers referring to a literary endeavour of yours, which I believe you Americans call a blog.
Mr Wright has asked me to forward said articles on the next packet steamer to the colonies (plus a baseball cap, some products of the Wrigley Gum Manufacturing Company, an incomplete collection of cigarette cards referring to a team of - I believe - cricketers called the Cubs, several bills from a Polish distillery and a Compact Disc recording of a beat ensemble of indeterminate provenance.)
Paul Henderson-Staircase
Butler.
PS The housekeeper has resigned, the maid is pregnant, and the gardener has just reported that the cider has turned. Mrs Wright says that she looks forward to your next visit.
Posted by Marc Wright | November 3, 2006 11:32 AM
Posted on November 3, 2006 11:32
Well hell, we may have pulled the number and waited two years - BUT WE CAME BACK!!! The Japanese gave us a little nudging from behind to let us know you guys were calling our number. A little hard to hear across the pond.
I'm so glad you said that you made all that up. I was thinking "I should really think about corporate communications for a living if Mr. Wright has a frigging estate with a butler! I am absolutely in the wrong field! I have a few IT professionals that I'd like to string up and I'm sure NO ONE would miss them."
PHEW.
Homemade cider....mmmmmmmmmm.
Posted by Rebecca (token IT Goddess) | November 3, 2006 1:33 PM
Posted on November 3, 2006 13:33
Isn't the difference between communicating on this side of the pond and that itty bitty island a bunch of e's and u's?
Posted by Rob Patey | November 3, 2006 2:07 PM
Posted on November 3, 2006 14:07
The French guy walks in front of you because you're not standing close enough to the next person up. You can't operate in France with northern European personal space ideas. It just doesn't work.
I did learn, in who knows how many Metro and bus trips this year, that when little old ladies try to cut in front of you, you are allowed to push them out of the way.
Posted by John Whiteside | November 3, 2006 2:14 PM
Posted on November 3, 2006 14:14
For the definitive (and utterly hilarious!!!) word on the differences between the French and the English (British Isles English that is) check out the book "A Year in the Merde". I laughed so hard all the way through it I thought I was going to choke to death. It's about a British fellow who agrees to work in France for a year to set up "proper British tea shops" and he chronicles all the bizarre and frustrating intra-cultural differences. It is a scream!
P.S. Rebecca: You know of course that YOU would be exempt from any IT executions us communicators might plot - being a Goddess and all!!!
Posted by Kristen | November 3, 2006 4:14 PM
Posted on November 3, 2006 16:14
Marc: Sorry about the maid.
Kristen: I just finished A Year in the Merde, too! I was actually reading that while I was in London. Talk about the perfect book.
Have you picked up the sequel yet? Do you know if it's out in paperback? I thought it was great, too.
And John, you're right: You have to snug right up against the ass of the person in front of you so the French---and the Italians---can't squeeze in there. And you have to be willing to use your elbows and hips to block out, like in basketball.
Steve C.
Posted by Steve C. | November 4, 2006 7:04 AM
Posted on November 4, 2006 07:04
To queue or not to queue, that is an interesting cultural question!
The British will sheepishly stand in a queue even when they don't know what it's for.
The Japanese queue so orderly and politely that I nearly missed my train in Yokohama, but the Chinese queue like they drive - if there is a centimeter of space open, they will maneuver into it. The Indians are the worst when it comes to pushing and shoving and not respecting who was first, but they don't seem to take any personal offense from it because everyone does it.
As a chronically early person, I prefer the take a number system. Unless I'm in Italy where I don't mind the close contact!
Posted by Suzanne Salvo | November 4, 2006 8:02 AM
Posted on November 4, 2006 08:02
Suzanne:
Ha! You are so right . . . the Japanese make the English look like the French. Now, the Italians . . . they view the queue as an option, the same way they view stop signs and red lights, right?
How are things in Italy, by the by? How is the villa?
Steve C.
Posted by Steve C. | November 4, 2006 3:26 PM
Posted on November 4, 2006 15:26
In case you're collecting mistakes that we Yankees make when trying to write for the Brits, here are a few stumbles I made when living in Munich and editing an English-language magazine that was read by both British and American expats.
In England, I was told, you don't ride on a train; that would mean sitting atop the car. When you think about it, it IS a big strange on our part -- we find nothing odd in talking about riding on a plane or a train or a bus, but we'd never say we ride on a car!
I also made the mistake of writing about the cute men in their tight black pants who dance in the central square of Munich every seven years to commemorate the end of the plague. Our British readers pictured Chippendales in tight black underpants, and told me the correc term would be trousers. But the best was when a British woman came into our editorial offices and bemoaned the fact that she'd been in Munich for four months and wanted to know where to buy a joint. We shushed her quickly, but later found out that the joint she was looking for was a roast for her Sunday dinner.
Posted by Ginger | November 4, 2006 9:45 PM
Posted on November 4, 2006 21:45
On his trip to London Steve did raise a few eyebrows among the drinkers in the bar at our hotel. We had decided on a restaurant for dinner and were about to leave when Steve announced to the world that he would meet us in reception as he had to change his pants.
It must have been all those pints of warm ale.
Posted by Marc Wright | November 5, 2006 4:18 AM
Posted on November 5, 2006 04:18
Look at them, all prisoners of the gutter,
Condemned by every syllable they utter.
By rights they should be taken out and hung
For the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue
Why can't Crescenzo
Teach the English how to speak?
Norwegians learn Norwegian;
The Greeks are taught their Greek.
Arabians learn Arabian
With the speed of summer lightning.
And the Hebrews learn it backwards,
Which is absolutely frightening.
In Poland Steve displayed his art
From Krakow up to Warsaw.
In London, he taught language skills
And ate more than he foresaw.
But talk like Mr. Proper,
You're regarded as a freak.
Oh why can't Crescenzo
Teach the English how to speak?
Posted by patrick williams | November 5, 2006 5:15 PM
Posted on November 5, 2006 17:15
Kristen - HA! I'd like to think I'm exempt. I've had a rash of local computer fixes with family and friends that I think has bought my way into heaven. :) At least I'm getting bottles of wine out of the deal.
A Year in the Merde has been added to my B&N shopping list.
I'm coming to NYC in late November for some geek training, I've asked Steve for some direction on what a lonely girl from the Midwest can do for entertainment and not get lost. So far I plan to find Little Italy and take in a meal. Any other suggestions from the blog?
Posted by Rebecca (token IT Goddess) | November 6, 2006 10:08 AM
Posted on November 6, 2006 10:08
I'm the evil IT guy at Ragan. I've just added a feature to this blog called "Tiny Turing", a test to see if you're a machine or a human. You'll have to enter whatever character the form asks you to type in. Hopefully, no big deal, and less spam.
Posted by Bohdan | November 6, 2006 12:12 PM
Posted on November 6, 2006 12:12