Beef Jerky, a Postscript to “Paperclips"

Recalling the Paperclips vignette allowed me to reflect upon a few other incidents from back in 1980, and the virtues of Japanese culture that enabled US and Japanese negotiators to artfully steer past an incident that might have seriously undermined sensitive negotiations. The Beef Jerky incident involved behavior so egregious it might have been considered as part of the entertainment, especially since it was not committed by a member of the US party to the negotiations.  Readers will better appreciate this postscript if they have read the Paperclips vignette on the VCI Blog at https://www.vcillc.com/blog/posts/2020/11/paperclips .

Postscript by Charles Adams Kelly:

In one particular visit, the 14 representatives of the Iowa Company (code name for negotiations) arrived at the Renaissance Center in Detroit. I met my counterpart Kuramoto and the group at the street level, while my executive, Bob Donley, waited to greet them when they arrived at our offices on the 18^th floor of the 300 Tower. I had established a rapport with Kuramoto previously and I knew he spoke fluent English, but I still had no idea of how many of our other guests spoke English, nor how well. On this occasion (as with most interactions), Kuramoto spoke in Japanese for the benefit of the entire group, and the interpreter translated.

The interpreter conveyed my welcome to the group. Kuramoto, through the interpreter, mentioned his cadre liked to gather at their hotel at the end of each day to debrief, and that they had a custom of enjoying a snack of American beef jerky. Noting that they had not yet located a source of beef jerky on this trip, and that they had arrived 15 minutes early, Kuramoto wondered if there was a shop at the Renaissance Center where they might find some. The only possibility was the GNC (General Nutrition Center), which always had a number of snack items.

As our Japanese guests poured into the GNC, the scowling cashier, with arms folded, regarded them with such contempt that I feared we were in for an incident. She was about 6’2” and robust, carrying over 200 pounds with ease; on a football team, she would have played on the offensive line (offensive in both senses of the word). Our guests scurried up and down the rows, buzzing in Japanese, as they searched for beef jerky. I was standing by the cashier, who looked like a pressure cooker about to explode.

Not being able to stand another instant of the buzz, the cashier all but shouted, “WHAT,” which of course drew the entire group around her. Desperately hoping to keep her lid on until I could ease the group out, I turned to this loose cannon on the deck, a person who had five inches and 50 pounds on me and clearly limited self-control, and explained that our much-respected guests were hoping to locate some beef jerky. Her nearly shouted reply burst on us with such rapidity that all 14 could easily feign not understanding it: “This’a health food store! You’re not gonna find no beef jerky in no health food store! Get these silly sons-a-bitches outta here!”

The interpreter appeared shell-shocked.  Desperate to reset, I offered my interpretation for him to translate: “The cashier deeply regrets that the store has no beef jerky. Since GNC is a health food store, she hopes they might be forgiven.  Nonetheless, she deeply regrets not having any beef jerky.” My diplomatic interpretation caught the cashier off-guard for just long enough that all 14 of our guests were out into the lobby before she gathered her composure and pointedly assured me: “I don’t regret nothing!”

As an old friend of mine often said, bad news is good news. The bad news was the noted lack of beef jerky.  Our guests were going to be with us for the entire day followed by dinner, before returning to their hotel, with no time to secure any of their desired snack.  This presented an opportunity for some good news.  It is a Japanese custom for hosts to present business guests with gifts. The need for some beef jerky represented an opportunity for a uniquely personal extra gift, which might be perceived as a very thoughtful gesture, considering the situation we had just been through.

I was the only one aware of the opportunity, and I would not be away from the group before 5:00 pm. Therefore, the special gift would be a complete surprise if it could be arranged.  During the morning break, I briefly caught up with a young employee named Glen Wagner. As I described the beef jerky episode and the custom of gift-giving, he gestured me to say no more, and said, “When you return from your lunch with the group and take your place at the conference table, peek inside your briefcase. If you find three packages in wrapping paper, each tied with a bow, you will reasonably assume they are bundles of beef jerky. You will not be mistaken.”

If the reader imagines that the unique was a complete surprise and that it was most welcome, the reader will also not be mistaken. In the general clamber of delight at the gift, there was at least one reference to the morning encounter with the GNC “ambassador.”  Kuramoto briefly puffed up his chest, folded his arms, and scowled.  This was followed by his westernized look of mischief and a smile, indicating for the second time that we had made a satisfactory recovery.

How about you?  Do you have a similar story?  What has worked best for you?  Comment below.