In every book or magazine you read on doing business in China, the same conclusion is almost always made: people will “yes” you at every turn. I thought that perhaps my charm, persuasiveness, and acute awareness that the yes was perpetually coming was going to get me out of this jam. Not so, as I've discovered just what those “China experts” were always saying is right on. I've been in this country for about 3.5 years, and I’ve seen it all in terms of the armies of yes-tailors, yes-ayis (cleaning ladies), yes-bar managers (who happened to be British, this one involves a Sox-Yankees game and I'll save it for another entry), yes-landlords, and even yes-hotel owners (which actually was a no-hotel manager, as in, “no, there aren
t any cockroaches in this room”). But I never expected someone who actually was in the position to get a signed agreement from me, one that would guarantee them a long and lucrative contract (cue customers) to yes me. Well, think again naïve son, it has happened more than once, and with greater frequency. I have come up with two conclusions as to why the Chinese like to yes a little too much:

1. Maybe the word “deadline” doesn't translate into Chinese the way we think of the word. Deadline when broken down in English actually has a pretty rough sound to it. “You cross this line, and you're dead.” In Chinese, it is qixian (期限), which translates into “time limit.” That sounds a little bit more pleasant than a line which crossed cannot be rescinded. I'm going to start a new movement and translate deadline into something better than “time limit.” That word, will be in my next entry when I can devote a little more time to finding out what words will strike fear into the hearts of suppliers who utter those three letters far too much. I mean, its pretty simple, if you can't do something and you know it, then tell me! I won't be mad, I may be a little disappointed, but there is nothing MORE disappointing then expecting something to be done, and then not receiving the finished product or an excuse why that wasn't done!

2. Its all about the environment. The yes doesn't just come in the form of ill-delivered work products, it comes in the take-back variety as well. I remember when I was 6 on the playground, the trick of siding with someone or agreeing with them and then rescinding worked pretty well. I would say “Yes, I like you and we'll share milk during recess,” but when recess came, I pretended like it never happened, and the elementary-world was shocked at my uncanny ability to outsmart the opposite sex. It seems as if some Chinese suppliers haven't yet graduated from elementary school either, and those rules still apply and are the law of the land. I heard a “Yes, my factory can do that, no problem” two weeks ago from a guy who I thought was legit and I was extremely happy to learn of that approval. Then, a few days later when I brought up the point for confirmation, I was confronted with the bitter reality of “No, what made you think my factory would do that for you?”

So the problem is two-fold, some if not all Chinese suppliers either still go to elementary school, or the word deadline isn't quite as harsh as we foreigners would hope it is in Chinese. Either way, I've got to get better at detecting a yes when I see it.

Its done. I did it, and it feels weird. No, I'm not talking about my first time taking a hallucinogen, I'm talking about quitting my job. I turned in my resignation letter a few weeks ago and had to work up until this morning, but now it feels real. I don't doubt the success of DressMonkey, in fact, I am quite confident in it. The strange feelings I'm getting are probably not caused by anxiety or uncertainty over my future, but likely have come about due to the new absence in my life of a corporate culture and routine (or maybe its the American Airlines “Chicken with Noodles” dish). Is it so strange that I'm having such feelings of emptiness or corporate withdrawal? As much as we sometimes detest our jobs, they provide the ultimate in security blankets and mid-day occupiers. There is something repulsive and at the same time fulfilling about donning a monkey suit every morning while you grab your Caramel Macchiato and hit the cubicle. But I'm not going to lie, having my own company has already been more fun and inspiring than any moment in the corporate drudgery. Making a move like this from a reputable company into my own sphere is by all accounts a risky maneuver, but its one that I have done and now its time for me to make it work. Goodbye Chinese corporate culture, hello Chinese entrepreneurship.

34,000 feet, somewhere above the Bering Sea, 9 hours in, and the kids behind me still haven't shut up. From the moment I entered the waiting area for Gate K17, I knew there would be trouble. Row after row of screaming toddlers and newborns inhabited the waiting area, all waiting for the same 13 hour flight that I was. Perhaps written somewhere on some calendar which I don't own, the date May 31 is “Take your infant or newborn to Tokyo Day,” or maybe it was pure coincidence, I fear I'll never know the true origins of this unfortunate phenomenon. I had been diverted from my original flight plan, which was an easy hop from Hartford to Chicago, then straight on till Shanghai. Somehow, the Gods had heard me boasting the night before how simple and painless the trip to Shanghai actually was, and thought that I needed a dose of reality. And as it turns out, reality comes in the form of not one, but two screaming sub-2-year-olds sitting directly behind me (belonging to the same set of absolutely clueless and inconsiderate parents). These kids must have been juiced, I mean, for a minion like this to scream for 9 hours (and counting), all the while finding the bottom of my seat a good supplement to soccer practice, that kid has to be a BALCO regular. After repeated glares and requests for silence directed at both of the minion wranglers, I took a walk around the plane to vent the air-rage that had been accumulating since somewhere over Lake Michigan and every other child trapped in this Daycare-in-the-sky with me was out like a light. The noise-reducing headphones I bought were sold to me through a clever advertisement which featured a woman sleeping comfortably, while sitting in front of a row of little fuckers producing the same decibel level as I'm no doubt experiencing. They aren't working as well as the ad promised. I venture to guess that this generation has built a resistance to the science which strives to stop them. But more likely, sometimes everyone is just unlucky. Speaking of a lack of luck, the guy next to me just spilled a glass of water near my computer and on my Ipod. Thankfully, both survived any obvious short term injuries and I'll chalk it up to an honest mistake. But the anti-Christ's behind me won't get off that easy, they are going to be the recipient of carefully-aimed angry sighs, dirty looks, and the occasional obscenity-laden cough for the rest of this ride. The flight still has 4 hours left, I fear other miseries will soon await. This has truly been, the flight from hell.

Well, Jeff and I still haven't come up with a better word for deadline in Chinese but I'm thinking about it. Nothing really is at the forefront of my mind, other than my current initiative. I have been working pretty hard on something else. We are calling it Operation Meet My Monkey, and I have no idea if that provides even a hint as to what it is we're doing for DressMonkey. So maybe I should explain. We've had this DressMonkey concept for a long time, but until now, it really has been nothing more than just that, a concept. We're trying to really test out all aspects of the ordering and production process, in an effort to work out as many kinks as possible in the very beginning. Basically, an email has been sent out to about 10 of our friends in the US and in China, asking them to take their own measurements and choose all aspects of a blazer they would like and put it into a simple spreadsheet (with some guidance from DressMonkey of course). We're looking to get all of their responses soon, then take that information to our factory and test the hell out of them. Are they really going to deliver on their words of being able to offer everything or are they going to yes me? Only time will tell, but I'm excited to see the outcome nevertheless. I can't wait to get our first DressMonkey products rolling off the production line, and I am confident that this is going to work. If this goes as well as I hope it does, we can foresee DressMonkey products selling in a matter of 2-3 months. I'm excited about it, we're finally getting into full swing.

I decided that I've got to come up with a cool way to inspire people to measure themselves. Measuring yourself is not always an easy task, thus you should almost always have your friend do it. But I think that we here at DM are going to take it a step further. In fact, we're going to go into uncharted areas in our push to measure America's 20-something's neck size, shoulder width, and all other DM offered measurements. We are going to find a way to inspire girlfriends to measure their boyfriends, and encourage them to really size up their male counterparts. I haven't figured out how we're going to push this, but I think it might be cool and fun for girlfriends to measure their guys. We can encourage them to measure every part, even beyond our requirements, and either reaffirm suspicions or spot false-claims of the length of their....er...arms. In our quest to measure America, we've found our secret weapon: the girlfriend.

I have just been through what is probably the most grueling and intensive marathon of a day for DressMonkey yet. But the crazy part was that I loved every second of it. Below I describe just a slice of a day in the life of starting a custom-blazer company.

After getting everyone's measurements in last night and this morning, I started noticing a discrepency in some of the returned results. All of the people that I had given my measuring tapes to (i..e, from the tailor) were giving me really small measurements, whenI in fact knew that some were pretty large guys. I kept going over it in my mind and had no idea how some smaller guys were coming in at larger measurements. I decided to go to the tailor to figure out what might be wrong. Low and behold, he had given me measuring tape for "Chinese inches," (寸). But the annoying part of the story is that I had no idea that there was a difference between Chinese inches and the inches that the rest of the "civilized" world uses (英寸). Neither did anyone else I talked to, except of course the tailor which might have been a little bit more helpful YESTERDAY!!!!! We're using inches to try and test the factory, but in reality it ended up testing me becasue I had to go out and re-measure everyone tonight, through the rain, on my bike, ALL OVER SHANGHAI. Did I have to do this tonight? No, not really. But if DressMonkey is going to be ready to sell in a few months, we can't afford to have such a dumbass oversight delay us, and it would have. So, I re-measured everyone, most people in their apartments but one in the middle of a restaurant (in China people don't seem to mind this much apparently), and all of which took around 3 hours during on and off rain. DressMonkey dedication....

For anyone who thinks that doing business in China is all about formalities, think again. That is of course, the complete opposite of anything you'll read about in your "How to do Business in China" books. Every meeting begins with the presentation of the business card, which should always be dispensed and received with both hands. But soon after that, its really anybody's guess where the formalities are inserted or withheld. A perfect example is as follows: yesterday I trucked out to PuDong to see a factory where some of our samples are being made for Operation Meet My Monkey. I arrived at the factory with the thought that I would be treated to the ceremonial cup of weird tea, shown pictures of all sorts multi-ethnic dorks in monkeysuits shaking hands (you need to live here to really know what I'm talking about), and told repeatedly why I should do business with him. This however, couldn't have been further from what actually transpired. To start, I was not offered tea, but instead Sprite in a big German Bierglas. It was a welcome deviation to the normal hot gross tea that you have to pick out of your teeth when you drink it and that the factory had not yet joined the AC revolution, a cool glass of Sprite was quite refreshing. Next, the factory owner came into the small office and was wearing pajamas! I didn't think too much of this, as pajama wearing is pretty rampant in this here country, but I never thought it would enter the business world. There were no pictures of strange looking foreigners shaking hands adorning the walls, leading me to believe that either he didn't have foreign business partners or just didn't like the ones he had (both of which could spell trouble for me if true). As we walked around the factory floor, it was revealed that he was a pretty nice guy who knew a hell of a lot about blazers and fittings. He would ask his workers about things not relating to work, would actually help them out when they had questions and interrupt our conversations which I didn't mind in comparison to the normal factory owner who just basically ignores his workers. Finally, it was obvious that he wanted my business but it wasn't overboard pleading like normally. His factory is high on my list, and it seems that he's going to be a good and honest partner, and it came without the weird things that make people uncomfortable when they sit down to meetings with the typical factory owner here.

In my search for suppliers of buttons and tags for our upcoming launch, I came across something that one would only find in China. Apparently, "Homo Garmet Accessories" is no longer a derogatory term for zippers or buttons worn by those who bat for the other team, but in fact is a company that quite possibly specializes in providing such items. Call it a 12 year old sense of humor or just complete amazement of what somebody thought of as a good English translation of the company name, but regardless, you have to admit its pretty funny. Check it out below

A terrific day for DressMonkey was highlighted by some lengthy trips, amazing noodles, fabric molesation and many more small miracles, all accomplished on less than 200 kuai. Here's how:

Dawn broke this morning at 5:00 am. The sun had risen and so had I, the first time my DressMonkey schedule forced me to do so. (which some of you friends reading this may note often occurs at very lengthy, irregular, but NEVER early hours) The destination I was bound for was 3 hours away by bus, and boasts one of the world's largest fabric markets. I was in for quite a day, and it didn't start out exactly as I had planned. Unbeknownst to everyone I talked to, the bus station where I was supposed to start my journey had actually closed down, and there I was at 6:15 in the morning, with no clue how I was going to get to the Mecca of fabric buyers. Luckily, I recalled in my procrastionation efforts at my previous job, an article on the shanghai railway station claiming to have just opened "the biggest long distance bus terminal in the world." As those of us who live here all know, Shanghai claims to have the world's biggest just about everything so this was no crazy new addition. (I know there is some dude here working on the world's biggest ball of twine, yet another reason to leave Nebraska). So I arrived at the bus station and paid 160 kuai for a round trip ticket, which unfortunately was about 100 kuai more than I thought it would cost (I left the house with exactly 200 kuai). Now, given that I had just dropped 30 kuai on the cab to the bus station, I had 10 kuai left on me (thats 1.20 USD for those not in the know, not a lot of money, even in Shanghai) for the REST OF THE DAY. In the words of the immortal Dr. Tobias Funke, "I had just blown my wad." I arrived at my destination, and I quickly found the bus to the behemoth of a fabric market, 2 kuai gone, 8 left and not an ATM machine in sight. I proceeded to walk around for 6 hours, and don't think I even covered 1/3 of the whole place. Very good leads found on exactly the fabric we're looking to offer, so in all due respects, today was an excellent day for the Monkey of Dress.

I made mention to a practice that I have quickly dubbed "fabric molestation" in my intro, and perhaps I should explain as anyone in the textile world or even anyone who has purchased raw textiles may already know what I'm writing about. Basically, those who are buying textile in bulk form are not concerned so much with how it looks, but more on how it feels, and rightfully so. Those who analyze fabric have a very strange way of touching fabric, and I'll be honest its borderline creepy. I brought several samples of what I wanted to duplicate with me, and every time I showed them, they didn't so much want to look at it, but wanted moreso almost actually stimulate themselves with the fabric. On more than one occasion, I saw a guy touching a fabric actually make the "O" face. And when they touched my precious samples, they didn't just touch, they rubbed it on their hands, arms, and even face sometimes. Some textile nerds are creepy, but I'm willing to tolerate a certain degree of fabric molestation, only if it gets me a good price.

My stomach started to growl and I realized that the Cap'n'Crunch I stuffed in my mouth on my way out the door wouldn't count for 2 meals so I meandered over to the local Xinjiang noodle place. Good thing I did, because I had the best fried noodles I've ever had in China, and it was all for 2 kuai. 6 kuai left, ATM's found, but they don't accept my card, and when they do, all I can choose from is "Deposit" or "Transfer." This doesn't make me feel less nervous about my lack of money at this stage. 3:30, a shitload of samples, a full stomach, and a new layer of filth on my sandals and its time for me to get on the bus back to the bus station to catch my ride to Shanghai. Bus ticket is 3 kuai back, I argue, but no avail. 3 kuai, 150 miles from home. After a long busride, I arrived at the Shanghai Bus Station, and still couldn't find a damn ATM. So I took the subway, where, unfortunately I was 1 kuai short of getting to my ideal subway station. I was tired, dirty, and sweaty and the last thing I needed to be was 1 kuai short, but I dealt with it and walked the extra 10 mins home from a different subway station. But after all that anguish, it proved to be a great day for DressMonkey, and a glorious day for the Frugal Traveler.

Photograph By: Jeff's Mom
Wool 100's Navy Blue Blazer - DressMonkey

A harmony of ooohhhs and aaahhhs rang out at our inaugural fashion shoot in Paris last week. DressMonkey - the embodiment of all things young, American, and male - captivated the larger-than-expected crowd of Europe's perfectly dressed beautiful people. I was caught in a fit of Parisian fashion fury for one brief moment, as a couple of the pictures above point out. I suppose anyone wearing their DressMonkey in 100 degree weather under the Eiffiel Tower would do the same.

I'm back from an incredible vacation through Europe and Northern Africa. First of all, I gotta give credit where credit is due. Huge props to Coley for being the lone force kicking Dressmonkey in the butt these past few weeks. His well documented adventures on the frontlines of China's textile industry, laughable as they may seem, has undoubtedly been much harder on the soul than my caravanning across Europe. DressMonkey has taken a huge step forward with Operation Meet My Monkey, and Coley deserves most of that credit.

Anyways, I'd like to offer up some tidbits of advice and important revelations I picked up during my travels:

- There's nothing more entertaining than being in Portugal, Germany, and France while their teams compete in semi's of the World Cup
- My pronunciation of French words is god-awful
- If you enjoy museums you'll love Berlin
- Moroccan salad is abslolutely delicious
- Switzerland is way too damn beautiful, but also way too damn expensive
- The premium you'll pay for a blazer in Paris will make you wanna scream DRESSMONKEY

Perhaps the only disappointment during my travels happened at the night market in Marrakech, when I had the chance to take a picture with a monkey. Sure, I'd have gone against the local guide's advice (and my mom's doctorly advice) and risked the chance of contracting something gnarly had the monkey bitten me or strached me, much less breathed in my general direction. But just imagine the incredible PR opportunity I squandered -- the guy behind this dirty idea called DressMonkey posing with a much dirtier Mr. Bojangles African monkey and its caretaker, whom by the looks of it was probably even the dirtiest of us all!!!

Alas, I'm home safe and disease free.

Now, time to help Coley and launch our company!

There are few things in life classier than being able to tie a bowtie. You’ll also look much cooler at the end of your best friends wedding party with it undone and draped around your neck rather than sporting a clip-on stuffed away in your breast pocket. Not to mention your improved chances of getting to know thy cute little bridesmaid. Follow these easy steps from the folks at The Bow Tie Club the next time you want to strap one on to the tune of wedding bells.

The origin of our "Hate Your Job, Not Your Clothes" tagline is forever linked to a certain day in early 2006, but the stickiness of it and overall significance it has for DressMonkey is still unknown. Will "Hate Your Job, Not Your Clothes" become a mainstay in desk jockeys vernacular and help define — or refine as the case may be — custom tailored blazers for the millions of job-hating Americans? The simple yet indefinite answer is, maybe. But if what Betuitive believes are the key ingredients for any effective corporate tag or campaign slogan is true, then DressMonkey Speak may already be driving a gravy train with biscuit wheels down the yellow brick road. And even despite the constant what-if and how-can scenarios being played out in my head, I am excited and confident about our launch this fall and the subsequent full-out marketing assault we will unleash on the American young professional demographic.