I have said it before, but it bears repeating: There are sooo many people in China, how can you keep all of them busy? Because if they are not busy, the angst will grow and then...chaos (or more chaos to be correct).
Yesterday Max did not have school. After a morning of parent-teacher conferences he and I tooled around town a bit. We went to the fake market - oops, I mean the underground market - where you can find all kinds of designer goods for very, very, very low prices. Afterward we wanted and needed some fresh air (its all relative). I told Max that I had seen a new playstructure somewhat near our home so we went to check it out. The play structure is part of a new retail strip mall in the Green City area (aka expat city) and is, in fact, so new that the structure was still not completely unwrapped - plastic wrap was still on many of the bars and plastic walls. This didn't stop Max from climbing.
As I sat on a nearby bench (new and saw-dusty) I watched a group of about 15 men. There was a truck with a small crane lifting a piece of steel out of the truck bed. The men - some subset of the 15 - were guiding the heavy piece of steel. This was a piece of art for the new complex - about 8 feet tall, 4 feet wide, maybe an inch thick with a stencil cut out of a man shooting a basketball. After the crane unloaded the art the men mulled around just enough for me to see that it was now teetering on top of a wheelbarrow - yes, like the one you have in your garage. The typical endless chatter ensued with arms flailing as the group determined what to do next. One man, the only man in a suit, stood at the outside of the chattering men with his hands clasped behind him. He's just there to make sure it gets done, but he will not be lifting a finger. Eventually, some decision was made and the men flank the horizontal piece of steel balancing it as some poor guy who obviously drew the short straw takes charge of steering the wheelbarrow. Just as I am thinking "Have these people never heard of a forklift?" they reach their destination.
More endless chatter. Point. Arms flail. Men walk around the piece of steel, sizing it up. Suited man just stands there, silent, arms clasped behind his back. Then I see the men return to their flanked positions and all crouch down and all-together they shout "Yi, Er, San! (1, 2, 3)" and then huge grunts as they try to lift the steel off the wheelbarrow and set it, vertically, in place. Just like being in labor and reaching the pushing part - it doesn't work on the first try. Nor the second. Nor the third. By now I am wondering why Mr. Suit doesn't jump in to offer a little muscle power, but he maintains his non-laborer status. On the fourth attempt they get the darn thing up and I join them in cheering.
These scenes are becoming normal to me - or at least common. I find my judgmental attitude toward the inefficient and backward ways things are done here to be lessening. Because at some level, I understand it now. Who needs quality when you have quantity? Why do something right - which usually takes longer and costs more money - when there are so many people to follow after and sweep up the mess and mistakes and broken pieces. Stuff breaks in our rented house ALL the time. Daily. And always, a bandaid is put on - and then it breaks again - and they may put on a bigger bandaid. And even if they replace it, its another shoddy piece of equipment. And that is for those of us living in 'luxury'.
On our way from the playground back to the park, Max and I walked through another retail strip mall to pick up some Starbucks. This is a mall that we walk through once or twice a week. Suddenly, a long round piece of metal drops from the ceiling, about 10 feet up, and Max and I jump to avoid having it land on our heads. Heart pumping, I look up at the ceiling and note that the entire length of the ceiling in the corridor is these metal bars, one after another. And now I know that they may just randomly fall out of the ceiling. And the worst part is ... I am not shocked by this. In fact, there are other bars missing. Would we not, in our litigious American society, both repair the fallen bar AND check the stability of all the rest of the bars to make sure another one doesn't drop from the ceiling and, heaven forbid, hit someone who then sues the mall and blah, blah, blah?
Those of you who already jumped on the bandwagon of banning products Made in China have likely made a wise decision. The rest of you may want to consider such a policy.
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