Meeting: THE ATTENTION

Excellent meeting yesterday. I'm sure we scared the hell out of the Chinese.

Wanting to do business on The Mainland - aka outsource our manufacturing operations - we are desperate to find a partner in the Land Of The Red to pony up the cash that will allow our rinky dink operation to gear up to full speed and sell in massive quantities the sort of cheapjack ripoffs of our own products that we accuse others of doing in violation of the trade laws, our patents, and good ol' American patriotism.

So far, we have hired three Chinese-speaking consultants who talk among themselves and tell whoever is listening either: (a) whatever the listener wants to hear, or (b) how "This is difficult, y'know, I need this company's commitment (aka more $$$ for me) if you want results." So, far, many many trips.

Oh, and the consultants have convinced the execs that the Chinese-speaking employees already on staff should be let go as "negative influences." I supposed their feng shui aura was bad. (Or they understood what the consultants were really saying on the phone and. . . Nope: must have been the feng shui.)

But, even phony rainmakers' gobbledygook gesticulations eventually coincide with precipitation, and so it is now with our consultants and some real "Chinese businessmen." I can't give short shrift to the Chinese bizmen: they're real. 'Even have a website in English and a lotta lotta presence in the U.S. stock market. I think they could eat us for breakfast without too much heartburn.

So, yesterday, we brought them to our facilities. We have 700 employees, so it ain't a shabby sight - especially not with the brand new coat of paint slapped on last fall. And we make pretty decent product. Great product, actually.

But we've got "Date sweat." Maybe a little over-anxious. Maybe a little worried that the exec bonuses paid out the past three years have been based more on phantoms than fact. Maybe we really really need this deal. . . Soon.

Or maybe the Creator has a great sense of visual humor.

It was great fun watching the little Chinese bizman step out of the block-long black limo we sent for him. It was a bit frightening (from a medical perspective) looking at our five overweight sausages stuff themselves into tight suits and ties, their faces turning red, looking just like they probably did on Junior Prom night.

Most beautifully bizarre, though, was the four-hour marathon meeting, where the Chinese businessman had to be scared out of his wits.

We could watch it all, like on a huge wide-screen TV. They all sat in a large conference room, glass wall open to the White Collar Floor. (Yes, we were all dressed up, too.)

Hands were shaken with increasing fervor on our side. Presentations were thrown up on the wall, each succeeding speaker trying to top the one before in enthusiasm. Eyes began to bulge from the efforts to illuminate the businessman in the wonders of our company. From what little I know of Chinese mythology, I believe the businessman realized fairly early that he was dealing with earth-bound Demons.

Most unsettling of all, however, must have been The Attention.

The Attention. For the entire afternoon, every one of our five execs sat forward in their chairs, eyes virtually glued on the Chinese businessman, their breaths in sync with his, the Prez literally leaning-in to drink in every word the man uttered: sincere, oh so sincere in his attention to the man's needs, desires, thoughts, breaths - heartbeat.

Oh, and they forgot to ask for the food to be brought in. The poor man was probably starved and thirsty by the end of this marathon, but we - like Greek gods punishing Tantalus - kept an array of delicious foods, prepared by an excellent deli, sitting in a closet . . . waiting . . . just out of reach.

It was, they reported later, "a good meeting."