One Hour... Or Three Days

One thing I am consistently surprised by living in China is the amount of time things take. 

When I order a coffee from the local coffee shop, sometimes it is made and delivered before I even get an opportunity to take the money down to our front desk to pay for it.  Fifteen minutes tops.  I know I’ve waited longer in lines at a Starbuck’s just to order a coffee. 

A few weeks ago, our STUCO sold roses for a fundraiser.  We ordered about 200 roses on a Thursday afternoon.  The next morning, 200 nicely packaged, wrapped and de-thorned roses were delivered to our school.  And they were insanely cheap.

I’m always amazed by my trips to our local clinic.  I can usually get an appointment within an hour or two.  I am seen promptly by the nurses and doctors.  All blood tests or diagnostics are done in house and I get results back while I wait.  Any prescriptions are filled right on the spot. 

Need a tailored suit?  Choose your fabric, get measured and you should have a finished suit in just a few days. 

Your A/C needs fixing?  If you have the right landlord, it’s done in an afternoon. 

You’re having a party and you’ve run out of wine/beer.  It’s just a phone call and about 20 minutes away. 

Nice, right?

On the other hand...

The Bank.  The black hole of time suckage.  Knock on wood, I have not had to endure The Bank, but I have heard the stories of runarounds, arguing and bureaucracy at it’s finest.

My friend Rachel just lost her bank card.  In the UK, where she is from, this would require a simple phone call to the bank wherein the person at the other end of the phone confirms your identity, your bank card is cancelled, and a new card is ordered.  Easy.  Worst case scenario you actually have to go to the bank to talk with someone, but usually the same process is followed.

Not here.

Something this simple could involve multiple trips to multiple bank branches, multiple copies of multiple passports, and multiple attempts to clearly communicate what the issues are. 

Hours, upon hours. Days, upon days. Just to stop a card and get a new one.

See the thing is, if it involves man power, job done.  If there is one thing China has going for it, it’s man power.  Lots of it.  If you throw enough people at it, a job gets done.  My coffee gets delivered because there is always at least one person at the coffee shop who’s sole job is to deliver coffees.  The rose assembly and de-thorning was probably finished in a short time by a small army of flower workers.  My doctor’s office is teaming with nurses with such jobs as “walk patient to room, take vitals, walk patient back to waiting area.”

But if the job involves problem solving or paperwork of any kind, you’re in for it.  Take a deep breath and endure.  It’s going to be a while.  Man power cannot solve problems.

The bureaucracy here is so elegantly and perfectly knotted that no single person can untwist it.  The canceling of a card and the reordering of a new one probably only takes three or four people, but those three or four take their jobs very seriously.  If everything is not perfectly in order, job stalled.  End of.

I truly fear the day that I have to enter The Bank, sidle up to the VIP line ask for help.  It will be a truly ugly day. 

There is one key hitch in my hypothesis.  The dumpling shop. 

I went to a dumpling shop the other day.  It is a tiny hole in the wall run by two ladies and a man.  They offer a vast array of dumplings and delicious side dishes.  I ordered vegetarian dumplings and cucumbers marinated in chili sauce.  Thirty minutes later, my dumplings were delivered to the table.  In a town where a plate of noodles or rice is in front of you before you even finish attempting to order in Chinese, “Wo yao yi ge...nevermind” thirty minutes is an eternity.

They were amazing.  Delicious, fresh, delicate little dumplings.  It helped me finally understand why “dumpling” is said as a term of endearment.

Quality?  Maybe that takes some time.