Two more posts... observations from around this home of mine

First, a quick observational post that means little without context, but I liked even without the context...

 

It was progress, the kind of progress explained in rubble and displaced migrants and families with nowhere to go... progress that looked like a wasteland of busted concrete and the ghosts of lives gone by.

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Now, a more involved observation...

I've always loved being a voyeur. Not in the trench-coated, lurking old man sense, but I've always thought about and enjoyed being a secret part of other moments, other lives... someone in the background of a photo who is surreptitiously sneaking a grin to add color to an event. I'm at the pub before dinner has begun, listening to a somewhat stereotypical pre-shift pep talk being given to the staff before a busy Friday night. The brewpub I'm in definitely caters to western preferences... bar stools at the bar set before multiple big screens with any number of sports showing, music just a bit too loud to allow for annonymity, good food and drink selection, and, of course, happy hour. The music has been muted to allow for the speech. Even though we're in a western-style establishment, parts of China peek through from under the façade. The speech from the supervisor is peppered with Chinglish clichés like, "Be happy every day" and other supportive cheer about making sure everyone is on-point, repeating the idea that all the clients who come in should feel "sexy". This is encouraged by telling staffers to make flirtatious eye contact. Social skills 101. Other grand, lofty slogans and goals are thrown around. Classic China. If you don't believe me, spend time walking around a busy restaurant area, but do so before the dinner rush starts... you'll see shouted slogans, calisthenics, dance lines, fireworks, propaganda repetition... just depends on the day. Back home, this would be eye-rolling nonsense, but here, it's ingrained in the business culture. I'm not entirely sure where it comes from. Possibly the military training done in schools, the Cultural Revolution propagandizing. It's hard to say. I also wonder about who is writing the speech about happiness and sexiness. Is the cute shift supervisor the one behind spouting the party line? Or is she simply the deliverer of the words that come from the big boss, who sits aloof across the bar in a trendy suit and personally tailored leather shoes?

As the speech wraps and the (expected) applause dies down, the volume on the stereo is back to full and everyone gets busy. I get back to my novel and my burger, wondering when things that used to seem so strange began to look so normal.

T