Do Something That Scares You

Ten years ago this week, I embarked on what would become a more than 2 year professional and personal journey unlike any other in my life to date.

I think of my time on my international assignment often, and about the people, work, environments, interactions, and adventures that made it an incredibly fulfilling and insightful learning experience. Not to mention the food, which I’ve certainly shared plenty of times before.

I didn’t know what to expect when I signed the contract to transfer to Tokyo, Japan, for work, but I did know that I was a full combination of excited, terrified, and optimistic about what the experience would be like. I also didn’t know how long I would be there, nor did I expect that at the end of two years I would be heartbroken to leave and return to the U.S.

As I reflect on the entire experience a decade later, I am able to see and appreciate much more than I knew at the time. For example, I vividly remember the thrill of signing the international assignment contract, borrowing our then-CEO Brent Saunders’ desk for the occasion. What made for a good photo op at the time later became a happy memory of Bausch & Lomb and its great leadership team before it went through the transaction with Valeant Pharmaceuticals, which ultimately changed the company forever.

Signing the international assignment contract
Signing my international assignment contract on September 29, 2011 in the Bausch & Lomb building in downtown Rochester, NY

I remember the sharpness of the words in the contract indicating that I would be on a one-way flight from Rochester to Tokyo, and that my return would be “discussed and arranged at a later date”. The gravity of that statement did not really hit me until about 3 months later when I was actually on that one-way flight and realizing in the moment that it is a surreal experience to be on a trip with no known plan to return home.

Which all brings me to the theme — do something that scares you.

After sliding the signed contract back into the envelope and submitting it to the senior management team who made it all possible (a tremendous thank you to Pete Valenti, Susan Denman, Hideyuki Ashikaga, and Steven Robins), my mind started racing with some of the basic questions: where would I live? how would I adapt to the [vastly different] work culture? how can I learn the business to be most effective in my role? do I need to start learning Japanese? what about my personal things in Rochester?

From that fear came a new sense of purpose, one that would keep me motivated to make the most of the experience.

And that is the moment when the excitement shifted to what I might describe as straight-up fear that I had made a very wrong decision. But from that fear came a new sense of purpose, one that would keep me motivated to make the most of the experience. I thought to myself, “millions of people have relocated like this before, whether for work or for personal reasons, and they all turned out OK. Why should my experience be any less successful?”

Professor Andy Molinsky wrote about the topic a few years ago in a short piece in Harvard Business Review entitled “If You’re Not Outside Your Comfort Zone, You Won’t Learn Anything“. While his commentary is about public speaking, networking, and communication, the underlying premise of how we challenge ourselves to learn, grow, and adapt is very relatable.

Fast forward to the end of 2011 just prior to my departure for Japan, and my cognitive cocktail of optimism/fear/excitement/curiosity/energy mixed with only a few weeks of Japanese language and culture lessons was just the fuel I needed to pack up my things, step on the plane, and start achieving some immeasurable professional and personal growth.

If I could, I would do it all over again, and I hope you take the chance if offered, too.

Communication Across Country Lines

Perhaps one of the largest challenges in working between countries is understanding and mastering the subtleties of communication when doing business.

For example, I need to talk with my American colleagues using a style that works with them, and then talk with my Japanese colleagues using a different, but equally effective style. If I use an American communication style in a Japanese business environment, it likely won’t be a productive use of time, and will leave many items open for interpretation. (Quite frankly, I could be speaking about using a German style in an Argentinian business meeting and the same situation would arise.) Extrapolate that theory across multiple geographies and it becomes clear that how you’re used to doing business in your home country is not how business gets done on a global scale.

If you’ve ever been in a multi-cultural meeting and it seems like everyone agrees with what’s being said, but then no action is taken afterwards, you know exactly what I mean.

One of the areas this really comes alive is when you see multi-lingual advertising or public service announcements. Here is one from the JR system, reminding everyone to be polite and respect the space of those around them.

JR Public Service Announcement

The Japanese text is a lot softer than the English beneath. And the overall tone, including the graphic elements, is much more direct than you would expect in a public ad. Clearly the JR advertising board isn’t speaking to the Japanese population with this ad, but rather to everyone else.

If they used direct Japanese here, or soft English, the message would be lost.

Daryl Donatelli

Ascending Mt. Fuji

The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Oxford comma notwithstanding) designated Mt. Fuji as an official UNESCO World Heritage Site in the summer of 2013.

So, naturally, that’s reason enough to make a trek to the summit! Here’s a short documentary about the journey from base to peak and the stunning visual reward at the top:

Ascending Mt. Fuji from Daryl DuLong on Vimeo.

Check it out in HD for an even better viewing experience.

Daryl DuLong

Tokyo Food Love Affair

While I have written previously about the myriad food options in and around Tokyo, I don’t think I’ve captured well how integral food is to the culture here in Tokyo and across Japan.

Take, for example, the many, many mom-and-pop restaurants and small shops which cater to the nouveau riche and the salary men alike. Certain neighborhoods can have hundreds of these types of restaurants up and down the streets, and stacked on top of each other. Sometimes you need to start looking up in order to figure out where you need to be for a dinner reservation! And you will always find food as the focal point — if not the primary draw — at the many summer festivals across Japan.

Giant Pan

Eating at a restaurant is a very common activity, especially for post-work socialization and for the ever-critical business meeting. More business can get done over a meal than in a conference room, and more friendships are built sharing a stick of yakitori than at a club.

But the thread of food winds even deeper than that.

Becoming a chef skilled in your particular cuisine can require many years of practice. A would-be sushi chef starts at a level 5 diploma and works for years up to level 1. For years. I’ve met restaurant owners in other countries who are barely out of high school, which puts the experience here in Tokyo in extreme contrast. Before ever serving a dish to restaurant patrons, a sous-chef must prove his skills through practice and review, living up to the standards for that particular eatery.

So, does the food actually taste better after all that hard work?

I’ve never had a bad meal in Tokyo, but then again I still have a lot of restaurants to try. From my experience, it’s less about how the food tastes on its own, and more about the full experience. A Japanese term, umami (うま味), really does describe that there is something extra when preparing food. There are the flavors as they are independently, and then the combined “n + alpha” flavor, which comes only if everything is well balanced.

And then there’s the presentation of the dishes. I can honestly say meals have never looked so good! That’s where the magic is, I believe. We eat with our eyes, and the chefs in Japan are skilled in making even small portions or unknown foods look amazing. After all, there must be a reason people immediately grab their cameras and start snapping photos of the food the second it appears on the table.

Dinner by Candlelight

Daryl Donatelli