Customer relationships: relationships for life

I’ve been in a customer-facing role at work for about 14 years now. As with any type of customer work, it can be pretty annoying, painful, and thankless. In my role, I have to get used to the fact that people will not always show appreciation for anything you have done for them, regardless of whether it fits your exact job description or whether you’ve truly gone above and beyond.

However, I do have a handful of customers over the years I’ve held in really high regard and have built really positive, mutually respectful relationships with. A number of us keep in touch via LinkedIn and occasionally still message. A handful actually follow me on Facebook and Instagram. And I have one customer who nearly made me cry about a week ago when I was transitioning off his account and handing them over to a counterpart on my team.

I announced on this call that after 4.5 years of working with these folks that I’d be transitioning off. They were my first customer at my current company since September 2020, and the only customer I’ve had since day 1; that’s 4.5 years of working together and chatting about everything regarding work and life. It was a bit bittersweet to be honest, as I really liked this group of people, but this decision wasn’t in my hands to make.

One of them took some time on the call, with my current colleagues taking over on the Zoom, to explain why it was so hard for them to see me leave. He said that among vendor/partner relationships in his 20-plus-year-long career that I was a rare breed. He never felt like I was trying to sell him or make him buy something he didn’t need. I was always straightforward and shared what I really thought could help them as a business. I was genuine to the core, inside and out, he said, and consistently so. And he could tell I truly cared for him and his team as people. He recounted the time, about three years ago, when his nephew had suddenly died in a tragic motorcycle accident. His nephew was like another son to him, as they were very close, so he took the news quite hard. He was out on bereavement leave, and his colleagues had shared this sad news with me. I immediately reached out to get his address and had some flower arrangements sent to his home to send our company’s condolences. No other colleague or vendor partner had done this, he had shared. “I will never forget you and will always remember how kind, generous, and compassionate you were at the time. You will always, always have my trust,” he said on the call.

To be honest, I had forgotten this had happened. I hadn’t thought about it much at the time, because to me, a gesture like that seems like a no-brainer regardless of whether we had a working relationship or a personal relationship. But when he mentioned it on this call, I was so shocked and caught off guard that I started tearing up that he even remembered this. “Ahhh, this is too much for work!” I exclaimed. I felt so embarrassed, especially with two of my colleagues on the call listening to this and watching our faces.

Work can be shmerk. But it’s in moments like this when I realize the real value of my job, and what I will remember long after I have left said industry and said company, which is, at its core, helping others.

Kaia’s first hong bao (red envelope) from a non-family/non-friend person

At school pickup today, Kaia and I went down the stairs into the building lobby to exit. As usual, the friendly older Chinese male doorman was there. Since the beginning, he’s always been really friendly with Chris, Kaia, and me. At pickup, we always make sure to greet him and have Kaia give him a high-five (or “pai shou!” in Chinese). We call him “Ah Gong,” which is a friendly and polite way of greeting someone who is of grandpa-age in Chinese. Kaia is always excited to see him and say hi. We always give him a high-five, then say thank you and goodbye or “see you tomorrow” in Chinese. Ah Gong always says that Kaia is so cute, so smart, and so “guai guai” (well behaved, obedient).

Today, I lifted her up to give him a high-five, then I asked her to wish him “xin nian kuai le! gong xi fa cai!” given the Lunar New Year has already come. Kaia first said it very quietly. Then, when I told her to say it louder, she shouted it! And Ah Gong got SO excited! He started laughing and exclaiming how proud he was that she knew how to wish him a happy Chinese New Year in Chinese. Then out of nowhere, he puts his hand into his inside chest pocket, which had a wad of sealed hong bao, and immediately handed her one. He wished her a happy and prosperous Lunar New Year in Chinese and told her to study (haha) and continue being “guai guai.” Kaia thanked him in Chinese, gave him a hug, and we went on our way.

On the train, I let her open the hong bao. Inside the hong bao was a very crisp, brand new five-dollar note (in case you aren’t aware, notes placed in hong bao must be brand new and crisp. Banks in areas with large Asian populations know this, and so they always have lots of crisp bills ready during the Lunar New Year period). Wow, I thought. We have no real family or friend relation other than the fact that he works as a doorman at the building where Kaia happens goes to school, and he was so generous to give her $5?! When he handed it to her, I figured he would give her a crisp one-dollar note as a cute gesture. But I was surprised. As Blanche DuBois once said, ‘I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” This line can be applied to so many instances of our lives, and this is definitely one of them. For every total dud, intentionally rude and obtuse, ill-intentioned person out there, there are, in fact, at least eight or nine really well-intentioned, kind individuals to even it all out.

Kaia wants more coddling from mummy

Kaia woke me up several times last night. The first time, she was screaming and crying for me in her room, waiting for me to come. I didn’t come, so she ran to our bedroom, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into her bed with her, screaming the whole way back to her bed. Only then did she stop crying. I stayed with her for about three hours and had a bit of broken sleep before waking up and going back to my own bed. A few hours later, she snuck back to our bed, poked my face and chest a bit to wake me up yet again. But this time, it was to help get her on the bed. She can actually get on the bed just fine herself, but apparently when I am there (as in, not on a work trip and away), she simply gets into bed on her own and tucks herself right next to Chris. She slept soundly, as did I… up until 7:30, when I woke up and realized we were 30 minutes late getting out of bed. I was so annoyed — this has never happened before! My alarm didn’t go off because I set all my alarms differently while on my work trip last week, and I had forgotten to turn them back on for today. I got her ready quicker than I’d ever gotten her ready and packed some defrosted and just warmed pancakes for her ride to school with Chris. She gets two breakfasts, one at home and then one at her current school, so it’s not like she’d have any less food to eat given we were rushed this morning.

Chris commented and said that she only acts this way when I am around. She always quietly gets into bed with him when I am not here. When I am here, she demands that I wake up, pick her up, and tuck her in. She demands that I go to bed with her. She wants coddling from mummy and only mummy, Chris insisted.

I’m not sure what to do with this information. Is this an encouragement for me to go away more often on work travel?

Cooking traditions in families

My paternal grandma was an amazing cook. Like many women of her generation, she cooked simply by feel, taste, and approximation. She never measured out anything, unless you counted pouring things into rice bowls as “measuring.” She made endless Cantonese delicacies like a professional chef, yet I don’t think anyone in my family truly appreciated that about her until she was gone. I was only nine when she passed away, but I have so many fond memories of dishes she would make, from her labor intensive zongzi (dong, or Chinese tamales), savory Toisan style tang yuan (a chicken/shrimp/radish based thick soup studded with chewy plain mochi-like balls, napa cabbage, dried shrimp, and Chinese sausage; to her simple steamed chicken and mushrooms flavored with salted fish.

While I love my mom and my mother-in-law, I will be honest and say that if the two of them had one thing in common, it’s that neither really ever enjoyed cooking; they kind of got forced into it because of the men they chose to marry. My dad does not really think cooking is something a man should do every day; Chris’s dad can barely boil water on his own. So both mothers cooked out of necessity and were never truly passionate about it. Now that my mother-in-law has both her kids grown and out of the house, she does do more experimental cooking and some pretty good baking. And my mom, to her credit, makes a handful of dishes extremely well that I love, from her loaded jook, several variations of pork bone and vegetable soup, Vietnamese fried egg rolls, to her very rarely made Vietnamese braised pork belly and whole shrimp dish. But regardless of these things, I do not really look at either of them and think they have a signature dish or style that I’d necessarily want to replicate.

I was thinking about a basic Vietnamese condiment, nuoc cham, the popular dipping sauce today. And annoyingly enough, even though I’ve made it endless times, it’s never been a consistent result. I think it’s ultimately because my limes are inconsistent in how sweet/sour/bitter they are, and I don’t always remember to taste the “limeade” base before adding the fish sauce. So I texted two of my Vietnamese friends for their mom’s recipe. Of course, their mom had no recipe and went by feel. But she did confirm tasting the “limeade” concoction before adding in the fish sauce, garlic, and chilies first. If the lime is too bitter, it needs to be evened out with a touch of unseasoned rice vinegar — this is a key step, the tasting to see if the limeade is balanced; would you actually want to drink this as a beverage? That’s an easy addition, especially since I always have that on hand. My friends are trying to gradually document all of their mom’s recipes so that they can replicate it on their own. While that would be a labor of love, I think that’s one of the best ways to honor those who come before us — to continue the food traditions that they lovingly shared with us, so that our children after us can hopefully continue to enjoy and make these dishes. After all, food is culture, and culture is food.

The Pookster’s big smile

Kaia keeps coming to our bed in the middle of the night. Since around the time she’s turned 3, she’s become a lot more clingy to me. She’s exhibited a lot more baby tendencies, like wanting to be fed by us or held. And yes, I do indulge her. She is my baby after all, even if she is technically not a baby anymore. Though I missed her the last several days while I was away, I was happy to have some adult time, even if that meant being in a lot of back to back work sessions. I sent Chris a short video of me talking to her in Chinese a few of the days to keep her entertained. When I arrived home, just past midnight last night, I unpacked my bag and went into our bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard her sneak into our bedroom. She got on the bed and under the covers, assuming it was just Chris. She originally had herself positioned next to him, her head on his pillow. But she heard someone making noises in the bathroom and kept peering over to see who it was. When she realized it was me, she moved over to my side of the bed and on my pillow. When I got to the bed, her eyes were wide open and she gave me the biggest, happiest grin I’d seen her give in the middle of the night. She reached out to hug me. I told her I was back, but now it was very late, so she had to quickly go to sleep. She cuddled with me and fell asleep.

It was a long day of waiting for a delayed flight. But that moment of seeing her big, fat smile in the darkness made the journey worth it.

A tragic plane crash and frustrating flight delays

My flight going back to New York today was originally scheduled for 11:35. Then it became 11:55. Then it went past noon. It changed about every 20-30 minutes once I got into my Uber to get the airport, until finally at around 1pm, they said that we’d actually be departing at 3pm local time. This means I wouldn’t land at JFK until 11pm ET. I was definitely not a happy camper, but it’s not like there was anything I could do to help the situation. I just had my laptop and a bunch of crappy chains to get food from in this terminal.

I was thinking back to a few nights ago when I was at dinner with colleagues, and we were all getting push notifications on our phone about the tragic AA plane and military helicopter crash into Potomac River. People went around the table, saying that they were flying on Delta or United or Southwest. When I said I was flying AA, everyone went silent. It was as though they were holding their breaths for me given that this plane crash was AA, so who knows if my plane would crash, as well….?!

Chris made a good point about this when I shared this anecdote with him. He said that it was dumb people would react this way given that fatal car crashes happen literally every single day in Toyotas and whatever other mainstream car brand there is, yet none of these people would hesitate to get into an Uber ride with any of these cars; they wouldn’t even think about it. So the same logic could be applied to airlines.

Well, I’m still waiting for my very delayed flight. I’m also wondering what the heck I’m supposed to eat for dinner.

Conference time – not enough time to have real conversations

Our annual sales and success kickoff is the one time a year when a large chunk of my global company is in the same place at the same time. It’s a rare occasion, not just because we are all around the world, but also because a large number of us are 100 percent remote employees such as myself. It ends up being a bit of a stamina show to see how many people you can interact with in the space of two business days. You can’t talk to everyone. You want to chat with people you like and work with for obvious reasons. But you also want to meet with new people who you may have worked with briefly, have heard about, or would like to network with just because you either respect them or think they are interesting. Then, there’s also the idea that you want to network and build relationships with those who are influential at your company or who you could personally benefit from. Honestly, I’m done with number 3, so I really try to focus on 1 and 2.

Day 1 was rough. I barely got to talk to anyone for more than 2-4 minutes without getting interrupted and derailed. Then, I’d move on to the next person, and the same thing would happen. So really, the only time I was able to have a real, proper, in-depth conversation with anyone is if we actually went away from the conference area and did our own thing. We try our best to maximize our in-person time together, but it still feels like we’re all being stretched thin. Then, once the conference is over, you realize that there were 4 or 5 other people who were there, but you never even got to say hi to, much less interact with in any meaningful way at all!

“What dish would you make to impress me?”

I was at dinner last night with my team. I’ve always been cognizant that on pretty much every team I’ve ever been on at any company, I’m usually one of the rare people of color. On my team now, the people who bring “color” to the team are a Mexican American, a Persian-French Canadian, and myself. One of my colleagues, who had had a bit to drink, brought up that he remembered I’m really into food and like to cook. So he asked me this:

“If you could make one dish from your culture that you think would impress me, what would it be?” He paused and took another swig. “You know how if someone were Spanish, they’d say that they’d make me a paella or if they were Italian, they’d make me handmade pasta. What would the Chinese or Vietnamese equivalent be?”

This was a very strange question for me. I don’t think it’s necessarily a wrong or an offensive question. But the reason this question is strange is that in order to “impress” someone, there needs to be a basis of understanding of what that individual likes (and doesn’t like). Are there foods the person doesn’t eat or has allergies to? For Cantonese food, I’d consider a ginger scallion lobster or crab to be an impressive dish, but that clearly would not impress someone who had a shellfish allergy. Do they prefer meat or carbs or what? If I don’t know what you like or how picky of an eater you are, I’d really have no idea where to start thinking of ideas of what dish I’d make to “impress” you. The only real context with this person I have is that he’s a White male who lives in Texas, he eats a lot of fast food/junk food, and he’s addicted to Coke. What do I propose then — Chinese-style lightly battered fried chicken or Vietnamese cha gio (deep fried spring rolls stuffed with shrimp, mushroom, and pork, wrapped in thin rice paper)? I’m not sure.

I said I’d need to think about it, but I’d need more context. The conversation moved on. But it still just felt weird. It felt like I was being outed as “other,” and being put on the spot for it, and it didn’t feel that great. It was kind of a reminder to me that in Corporate America, I’ll always be a little different, and as such, I’ll never quite “blend in” fully.

Las Vegas: inconsistent hospitality, awful tap water, and endless glitz

I checked into my hotel for our annual sales and success kickoff quite early this morning — at around 11am. I was a little annoyed given that the front desk service was below subpar; she looked like she couldn’t care less about her job and barely made any eye contact with me. The woman said that they’d text me when my room was ready given it was so early. (I later told Chris this story. Given I was clearly complaining, he responded, “Sounds like a boomer.”) Maybe, but when you choose to work in hospitality, you should be… hospitable?!).

At around 3pm, I found out that a number of my colleagues had arrived and had already been given their room cards. Annoyed, I went back to the front desk and told a different front desk person what I was originally promised. He apologized profusely, then told me that while my booked room type wasn’t available, he’d upgrade me to a large top floor king room overlooking The Strip. This room was immediately available, so I could go to my room right away. I went up to my room and was pretty impressed: it was, indeed, a very large room with a huge bathroom, ample space throughout, and large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking The Strip. I guess that situation ended up working out in my favor.

In between arriving and checking into my room, I was happy to see that a Famous Foods Street Eats Market, modeled after the Singaporean hawker food centers, had opened right here in Resorts World. The thought of having Hainanese chicken rice or laksa sounded quite tempting, so I made my way over there. Unfortunately, half of all the stalls were closed today through Thursday for Lunar New Year, so only a few desirable stalls remained open. I chose a claypot rice stall, which was fine, but it was a bit too greasy for my liking. At least they did do a decent job with the crispy rice bits.

While filling my water bottle with filtered tap water, I was abruptly reminded how terrible the tap water is here in Vegas. Even when I had hot tea (without milk), I could even taste how terrible and strange the water was through the tea flavor. Since then, I’ve decided to block out the awful water taste in tea by using black teas with milk only.

Las Vegas is a popular tourist destination year round, but around Lunar New Year, lots of Asian families love to come here to celebrate. And Vegas does do a good job getting decked out for the Lunar New Year: you can see endless Lunar New Year decorations everywhere here, with red lanterns, peach blossoms, and ornamental snakes given it’s the Year of the Snake. What’s also crazy is the type of gifts that are on display for purchase: you can buy extremely fancy, painstakingly handmade and decorated Lunar New Year butter and chocolate cookies for $88 (of course, it’s a lucky number with lots of 8s…), or even a solid gold snake statue for thousands of dollars and bring it home to grace your entry way!

Packing for Las Vegas – the dress I almost forgot about

This morning, I packed my bag for a four-day work trip to Las Vegas this week. My company’s annual kickoff is being held there this year. This Thursday, we have a party where we’re expected to dress up. While a lot of my female colleagues obsessed over Slack about what dress or outfit they’d buy, I opted out of the conversation immediately. I had no desire to go shopping or buy any new glitzy outfit that I’d wear once and then shove in the back of my closet, never to be worn or seen again. After all the spending on gifts around Christmas time, plus the money spent on travel, I really did not want to buy more disposable clothing for myself.

So instead, I went to the back of my closet to find dresses I haven’t worn in years, as in… since 2015-2016, way before Kaia was born. I found one navy-blue, backless Kookai dress that I loved and decided to try it on to see if it still fit. Yes, it definitely still fits. And if I remember correctly, I think I actually have more back definition this time than I did back in 2015 when I last remember wearing this thing! I felt a little self satisfied as I rolled it and packed it into my packing pod.

I might be older now, and I might be a mom, but I can still wear fitted, body hugging clothing. I’m happy I dragged this thing out.