Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Ahhhh... Sheep!
Dealing with Japanese business people is very different than dealing with, say, MBA grads. The former like to weave a wiggly path to the core of the issue in hand; the kaupapa. It takes hours. And it is very polite. In a way, you kinda feed them bits of your ideas and then they, eventually, ‘have’ those ideas thus earning mana.
The MBA’s however, give you 10 minutes to cut to the chase- the core- and then say yes or no. Very efficient. Not a lot of politeness. This is the way of things.
Now, I’ll come back to this. I was cabbing into work today waiting for the Tramadol to kick in listening to some oik on the radio banging on about how Wellington should promote itself on its ‘glorious natural coastline’ not the cafés and culture platform.
Say what!! Our glorious coastline.?
Err.. can someone show me this please. The only near-glorious bit is a man-made breakwater extension that created an airport but also a reasonable, peeling, peaky left hander that goes off in a decent swell with an offshore northerly. But, it only works about 30 days a year and gets so crowded you’re pretty much guaranteed to land up in a beach fight with a bunch of grommets who resent the fact that you dare to surf still when you're more than 4 weeks old.
Nah, not the coast - the key is Wellngton is the fact that it is small. Very small.
Small is good – except for Mr Chubby downstairs on a cold day and the fact that everyone in town knows who you fucked last night and what you banged up your nose on Saturday. Yep, apart from that, small is a positive thing.
For Wellington, small means an easy escape.
In fact, from downtown you can travel from the the Courtenay clubs, cafes and culture community into the heart of the country inside 20 minutes. A quick drive and you’re clanging over cattle stops and stopping for massive flocks of sheep on gravel roads.
Now, sheep ain’t that important to us, except for our export industry and those who choose ‘em as their girlfriends of choice. But the Japanese love sheep. We had a delegation out for a week – from a car company – and I had to entertain two Japanese Businessmen for a day – take ‘em for a tour of the sights and then home for a true blue Kiwi feed; some good tucker off the Weber.
They didn’t say much as I took them to all the usual touristy sights and and stuff. They pretty much grunted like sloths on valium until they spotted a rugby ball in the back of my SUV and asked if I was once an All Black.
(What a segue, huh?)
“Yep, could’ve been but I wanted to avoid the media attention so I opted out mate, did madvertising instead”.
And then I drove them to Makara. Home of Sheep, 20 minutes away from the Mount Victoria Lookout.. Suddenly the Japanese Businessmen became very vocal, very animated, very excited.
They pointed a lot, shouting…”Ahhhhh … Sheeep!”
At last, they were happy.
“Ahhhh..,Sheep!” (More poimting)
Over and over. And, over.
"Ahhhh..., Sheep!"
Actually, moving back a para or two, the All Black thing was quite funny really; I’m suddenly teminded of the time I was playing beach soccer with a bunch of locals at a place called Telok Chempadak and one of them spotted my tattoos and asked the same question – “Was I an All, Black?”.
And I said, “yeah, right.”
Which they took to mean ‘Yeah. Right’.
Suddenly I am festooned with Malay boys wanting autographs and yelling and screaming – and, err.. touching me a lot… and nothing I said could convince them that I was joking and was not an All Black. Over the next few days I scored heaps of free drinks and some fantastic sex from two very hot, bi-curious German chicks at the hotel as the legend grew. And grew. man, I was an All Black!
But, I digress, back to to the point.
Sheep matter to our most valuable tourist market. So we should work that baby.
Can you see the campaign - billboards from Tokyo to Osaka: “Wellington. 20 minutes from sheep’.
Man, how cool is that? That’ll go down in the annals for sure. Or, for people who live in Iowa, the anals.
Anyway, the Japanese are different and we need to recognise this. '20 Minutes From Sheep' could be the greatest ad slogan of all time!
Anyway, after my day with the delegates, they wrote to me about every two weeks. Quaint eh? letters, not email. Their letters always ended with the same line – and, this is weird: “.. and Mr David, you must come over to Tokyo soon. I hope your good wife is very well. When you come to Tokyo we will meet you with some nice girls…”
Say what, immediately after asking after the wife, they wanna get me laid by some locals!!!!
And then the PS would always ask after the sheep. The fucking sheep. What is it about sheep and japanese business people ffs!!!?? I still don't fully get it.
It’s not a sexual thing, but man, there sure is an attraction.
Aussies of course have a thing about Kiwis and Sheep, but that’s a little different.
I remember about a year ago my accent (eccent) being sprung in a Sydney restaurant by a bunch of drunken Ozzies at the next table.
One of them sneered at me and said – ‘Gahhh.. ya bloddy sheep shagger..”
So I got up, walked over and put my hand, gently, on his shoulder. The table went very quiet.
“Yes, my friend, I am a sheep shagger – and proud of it. Now, here’s something you may not know about us – but when every New Zealand boy turns 15, the Government gives him a sheep. And mayyyyttte, we shag ‘em, all that teenage testosterone, man we shag ‘em day and night, for months.
(pause for effect).
Then we export them.
(pause for effect)
To Australia.
So, I hope you are enjoying that grilled chop right now. Nice innit?
Say, dude, ain't that some mayonnaise dripping out of your mouth, here, use my napkin.
Cheers.”
I copped a black eye and a loose tooth. But, you shouldda seen the other guy.
The MBA’s however, give you 10 minutes to cut to the chase- the core- and then say yes or no. Very efficient. Not a lot of politeness. This is the way of things.
Now, I’ll come back to this. I was cabbing into work today waiting for the Tramadol to kick in listening to some oik on the radio banging on about how Wellington should promote itself on its ‘glorious natural coastline’ not the cafés and culture platform.
Say what!! Our glorious coastline.?
Err.. can someone show me this please. The only near-glorious bit is a man-made breakwater extension that created an airport but also a reasonable, peeling, peaky left hander that goes off in a decent swell with an offshore northerly. But, it only works about 30 days a year and gets so crowded you’re pretty much guaranteed to land up in a beach fight with a bunch of grommets who resent the fact that you dare to surf still when you're more than 4 weeks old.
Nah, not the coast - the key is Wellngton is the fact that it is small. Very small.
Small is good – except for Mr Chubby downstairs on a cold day and the fact that everyone in town knows who you fucked last night and what you banged up your nose on Saturday. Yep, apart from that, small is a positive thing.
For Wellington, small means an easy escape.
In fact, from downtown you can travel from the the Courtenay clubs, cafes and culture community into the heart of the country inside 20 minutes. A quick drive and you’re clanging over cattle stops and stopping for massive flocks of sheep on gravel roads.
Now, sheep ain’t that important to us, except for our export industry and those who choose ‘em as their girlfriends of choice. But the Japanese love sheep. We had a delegation out for a week – from a car company – and I had to entertain two Japanese Businessmen for a day – take ‘em for a tour of the sights and then home for a true blue Kiwi feed; some good tucker off the Weber.
They didn’t say much as I took them to all the usual touristy sights and and stuff. They pretty much grunted like sloths on valium until they spotted a rugby ball in the back of my SUV and asked if I was once an All Black.
(What a segue, huh?)
“Yep, could’ve been but I wanted to avoid the media attention so I opted out mate, did madvertising instead”.
And then I drove them to Makara. Home of Sheep, 20 minutes away from the Mount Victoria Lookout.. Suddenly the Japanese Businessmen became very vocal, very animated, very excited.
They pointed a lot, shouting…”Ahhhhh … Sheeep!”
At last, they were happy.
“Ahhhh..,Sheep!” (More poimting)
Over and over. And, over.
"Ahhhh..., Sheep!"
Actually, moving back a para or two, the All Black thing was quite funny really; I’m suddenly teminded of the time I was playing beach soccer with a bunch of locals at a place called Telok Chempadak and one of them spotted my tattoos and asked the same question – “Was I an All, Black?”.
And I said, “yeah, right.”
Which they took to mean ‘Yeah. Right’.
Suddenly I am festooned with Malay boys wanting autographs and yelling and screaming – and, err.. touching me a lot… and nothing I said could convince them that I was joking and was not an All Black. Over the next few days I scored heaps of free drinks and some fantastic sex from two very hot, bi-curious German chicks at the hotel as the legend grew. And grew. man, I was an All Black!
But, I digress, back to to the point.
Sheep matter to our most valuable tourist market. So we should work that baby.
Can you see the campaign - billboards from Tokyo to Osaka: “Wellington. 20 minutes from sheep’.
Man, how cool is that? That’ll go down in the annals for sure. Or, for people who live in Iowa, the anals.
Anyway, the Japanese are different and we need to recognise this. '20 Minutes From Sheep' could be the greatest ad slogan of all time!
Anyway, after my day with the delegates, they wrote to me about every two weeks. Quaint eh? letters, not email. Their letters always ended with the same line – and, this is weird: “.. and Mr David, you must come over to Tokyo soon. I hope your good wife is very well. When you come to Tokyo we will meet you with some nice girls…”
Say what, immediately after asking after the wife, they wanna get me laid by some locals!!!!
And then the PS would always ask after the sheep. The fucking sheep. What is it about sheep and japanese business people ffs!!!?? I still don't fully get it.
It’s not a sexual thing, but man, there sure is an attraction.
Aussies of course have a thing about Kiwis and Sheep, but that’s a little different.
I remember about a year ago my accent (eccent) being sprung in a Sydney restaurant by a bunch of drunken Ozzies at the next table.
One of them sneered at me and said – ‘Gahhh.. ya bloddy sheep shagger..”
So I got up, walked over and put my hand, gently, on his shoulder. The table went very quiet.
“Yes, my friend, I am a sheep shagger – and proud of it. Now, here’s something you may not know about us – but when every New Zealand boy turns 15, the Government gives him a sheep. And mayyyyttte, we shag ‘em, all that teenage testosterone, man we shag ‘em day and night, for months.
(pause for effect).
Then we export them.
(pause for effect)
To Australia.
So, I hope you are enjoying that grilled chop right now. Nice innit?
Say, dude, ain't that some mayonnaise dripping out of your mouth, here, use my napkin.
Cheers.”
I copped a black eye and a loose tooth. But, you shouldda seen the other guy.
Labels: All Black, Japan, MBA, New Zealand, Sheep
