This site has been opened for testing and somehow you have stumbled upon it.
That’s nice to know, and I hope you will find the proper content useful and entertaining when the site “goes live” very shortly.
In the meantime, you are welcome to look around, but please note that there are probably lots of little things that need correcting and adjusting – in both content and presentation; if you think I should know about any such issues, please let me know in the comments below.
Even if you do not need to comment immediately, why not take a moment to register now? It seems to take longer than I would currently like for the registration email to arrive, so if you start now, you will be ready when there is something to say.
I shall, as the saying goes (albeit with an accent and contraction), be back – and soon. Watch this space.
Once upon a time, I worked for a company that had developed some cool (for the time) radar recording technology that was in modest demand at the time. Having been developed for the Royal Navy (and deployed on board various ships during the Falklands campaign of 1982) others took an interest, among them the South Koreans.
Now it so happened that the South Koreans had specified that radar recording equipment be provided for some new ships, and that the systems integrator for the radar (and other) systems had overlooked this fact. I was therefore invited to Seoul at short notice to see what could be done. “What can we do about this?” turned out to mean, “What can you give us for nothing? We’ve already spent the budget.” but more on that in a moment.
I arrived in Seoul – which was then eight or nine hours ahead of UK time – and checked into the hotel where the integrator’s main team was staying, and after freshening up etc. joined them in the bar about 10pm, which was a cosy afternoon time for a body still blissfully unaware that it was no longer in the UK.
Beer was duly consumed and the conversation turned to what I was doing there. I explained, and said that “Ted” had asked me to discuss what we could “do” about the South Korean’s readar recording needs.
There were nods of understanding. “It takes a while to get used to the way they do things, here, but you’ll be fine,” I was assured, “Just don’t arrange any meetings around midday – your body won’t know which way is up and you won’t be able to manage the meeting when it thinks it’s 4-5am. You’ll fall asleep if you’re not careful.” I took this advice seriously and enjoyed another beer or two.
Some time later, “Ted” (for it was he of the inverted quotes name) turned up, and after collapsing into a chair, gleefully announced, “Well! I’m glad you could make it – we need to move quickly on this. I’ve set up a meeting for 12:00 tomorrow.”
Not realising how significant the warning I had been given truly was, I accepted this as a fait accompli and drank more beer.
The next day, “Ted” and “I” headed off to a meeting with the South Korean systems integrators, who, I think, were Samsung. “Ted” offered sage advice, I think, but since it was already 3am I’m not sure what it was exactly, apart from the fact that the main contact had been dealing with “westerners” so long we could no longer negotiate by playing on loss of face.
“The last time I tried to put him on the spot he just smiled and said, ‘I suppose I will lose face by this, but I’m afraid I have to reject your proposal,'” “Ted” said. “Just stick to your guns – and don’t be afraid of protracted silences: they try to get better deals by going quiet and waiting for the westerner to become so uncomfortable they blurt out a better offer just to break the silence.”
I “assured” “Ted” I would be mindful of this.
Now to cut a long story short, it did indeed happen, after much discussion of prices, requests for a discount against future business politely declined and so on that the dreaded negotiating silence fell.
I was not too upset about this. I was tired of pointless argument and quite prepared to enjoy a little rest…
After some indeterminate period the South Koreans began talking again and we eventually struck a mutually satisfactory deal.
“Well done!” said “Ted” on the way back to the hotel, just as my body was getting ready to fall out of bed, “I thought you handled the silence well.”
“To be honest, it wasn’t that hard,” I confessed. “You remember that painting on the wall behind them? I started looking at it and must have fallen asleep with my eyes open because I don’t remember the silence being more than a second or two…”
And there you have it, this one weird negotiating trick: when confronted by an awkward silence into which you are expected to pour an improved offer out of sheer discomfort, just relax, enjoy the scenery and go to sleep…
… but try not to snore.
Stuff is now defined in the Kumu, so all that is left for me to do is to describe what sort of thing appears in the category of stuff here at PantologEA. The answer is simple: anything that is not sufficiently strongly the related to EA to warrant an EA classification.
Under stuff you will therefore find such things as historic tales of work as a hardware or software engineer, such as what the sound of a Space Invader’s attack has to do with nuclear power, or what it is like to stand next to a 4.5″ naval gun when it is fired. Or how to arc-weld glass. Or tales of cross-cultural understandings and misunderstandings from the days when, in the employ of Walton Radar Systems or The Preston Group Pty, I trotted the globe in on business or to deliver conference speeches, papers. etc.
Some stuff is interesting, some is amusing, but what all stuff has is common is it’s stuffness.
Et Voila! I have an opening post so that a category search for stuff does not come up empty handed.