I never had a little brother … but I was one. So I know how this works.
There is an unwritten bylaw in the “How Family Works Field Guide” that states very explicitly that elder siblings reserve full rights to be absolutely annoyed by little brothers. Because little brothers are built with an intrinsic and sophisticated capacity for annoyance.
It’s uncanny.
We’re born with it.
You don’t have to teach us the classics, like “nana nana boo boo” and “I’M NOT TOUCHING YOOOUUU.” It’s just engrained into us and we are compelled to exploit every opportunity to grate every nerve.
There is (for the preservation of the species) of course, a parental safety zone that protects the bratty brother from fiery elder sibling wrath but we all know full well that getting caught on the wrong side of that line doesn’t end well for said brat. That’s where the fire is unleashed.
It is their elder sibling right.
And their elder sibling duty.
EVERYTHING CHANGES though, when the bully steps in.
It’s an understanding as old as families and it is sacred code:
“I get to pick on my little brother … but you need to back off.”
That’s how expats feel about their host countries.
When you live abroad it feels like family. Sometimes you hate it but you always love it more. It is constantly present and always in your business. It pushes your boundaries, invades your personal space, and annoys the pot out of you.
So you whine. You gripe. You complain because there is a sense that you are paying your dues and you are earning that right.
We’re family. That’s how family’s do.
But something gets triggered in us when the kid down the street starts badmouthing our host.
When they reduce it to its most bratty features.
When they drag it through the mud and make threats.
When they make up lies and fabricate stories.
When they joke.
When they blame.
When they shame.
When they mock.
When they mimic.
When they meme.
And the absolute worst is when they laugh out loud and slap you on the back like you should get it. As if you’re going to jump on the bandwagon and turn on your own little brother.
“Dude. You LIVED there. You know what it’s like. Validate me.”
No.
Just no.
Because the reality is that I DID live there. I DO know what it’s like. And you’re not even close.
Your barely informed, ethnocentric stereotypes and conspiracy theories that weren’t even smart when you found them on Facebook don’t even begin to paint the picture of the richness, or the depth, or the magnificence, OR the issues connected to my host culture. Your presumptions and assumptions and spineless attempts to stir the pot and snag some “likes” along the way, point straight to your insecurities, and showcase your ignorance. There is SO much more to these people. They are more complex and nuanced than you will EVER glean from your one-sided podcast or the evening news.
They are more beautiful AND more broken than you can imagine.
I know.
Because I lived there.
And I can’t imagine it either.
But here’s the kicker. Living there showed me MY OWN CULTURE too. From the outside. With a different set of lenses and from a different perspective.
And guess what.
It’s also richer, and deeper, and more beautiful, and more broken than I ever imagined AND you don’t own the rights to stereotyping. They’re doing the same thing to you and when that happened over there — it triggered me.
Because we’re family.
Living where I lived broke open the bigger picture and left me with a willingness to admit that there is ALWAYS more to the story.
And sometimes.
Just sometimes.
Over there.
Someone would ask a question instead of raising a banner. They would confess their ignorance instead of defending it. They would lead with “I always thought” but open up to “I never knew” and it was SO GOOD.
I loved those conversations.
I got to be the expert but I learned so much more than I ever taught. It was intelligent, and enlightening, and significant, and challenging, and frustrating, and sometimes downright annoying — and I walked away every time just a little more in touch with the human side of my stereotypes.
And so did they.
So, I’m just putting it out there and I’m gonna’ go ahead and speak for EVERY EXPAT EVER.
If you would like to have a conversation about our host country, we would LOVE THAT. Ask some questions about the people, the places, and even the politics. Let’s dig deep, not because I’m the expert (I am not) but because I’ve seen them, up close, with your eyes, and I’ve seen you up close with theirs.
But if you’re a bully — then back off.
Because that’s my little brother.
Can you resonate expats? Ever feel like this or is it just me?
You know that feeling? It’s a sick one. In your gut.
Sometimes you catch it early. Two minutes down the road on the way to the airport.
“Did you pack the swimsuits?”
“Yes.”
“Socks?”
“Yes”
“Underwear?”
“Yep.”
“Boarding passes?”
“YES! I got everything ok?!”
“Sorry . . . (long pause) . . . passports?
“Shoot! Turn around.”
It’s nice when the light bulb goes on in time. Nothing hurt. We can still make it.
It’s not so nice when you’re sitting on the airplane, or unpacking your boxes and it hits like a lightning bolt. That thing you really need in your new place is the thing you left in the old place.
But there is a whole other layer. A deeper one.
The one thing that almost all of us (at some level) forget to take with us in a massive life transition . . .
is ourselves.
Who we were in the last place gets washed out in the new place. Our new life demands our attention. So we give it. The new people don’t know us yet. So we show them the surface. There is a language that we don’t speak (even if we’re “returning home”). So we get by. The systems, the patterns, the customs, the culture, the way of life are all radically different. So we scramble. We make do. We figure it out.
And then we wake up . . . weeks later — sometimes months — occasionally years — and the light bulb goes on . . . I forgot myself.
And it feels too late to turn around.
Transition challenges personality.
It attacks normalcy.
It assaults identity.
So if you’re waking up in the middle of a massive life transition, take heart, you’re not the only one who doesn’t feel like yourself.
But that helps nothing right?
“Great, everyone is screwed up but I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM!”
That’s fair.
Here are a few thoughts on reclaiming your identity when you wake up and realize you left it sitting on the kitchen table in a place you can’t get back to.
ONE: Learn the difference between inside and outside.
When you move from one place to another you immediately start responding to outside things — the external forces that are pressing against your daily existence.
You have to. You’re supposed to. You’re not doing it wrong.
But.
In your core, there is a pile of values that didn’t change when everything on the outside did. There are beliefs, passions, habits, dreams, joys, frustrations, and pet peeves that define who you really are.
You should know those.
Like really — know them.
Not just in response to a question but intimately — KNOW THEM.
List them out.
Spend time with them.
Pick them apart.
Deconstruct them.
Put them to the test.
See what gets cut — and what doesn’t.
You should be the top scholar of your own core — but maybe you never had to be until now. Maybe your inside has always been supported by the outside so you didn’t have to think about it.
Now you do.
When you KNOW who you are in your core you can go ANYWHERE with confidence.
When you DON’T, you’ll be stuck in the anxiety of a missing identity because you’re relying on the outside stuff to define you.
TWO: Know what makes you YOU.
Little y big Y.
Just because you have moved doesn’t mean YOU have arrived. Not all of YOU.
What did you give up, for the sake of the move, that feels like it was actually a part of you?
What did you DO back there that you don’t do anymore?
What did you leave behind that feeds your soul?
This one might sting a bit . . . who are you blaming that on?
Here’s the kicker — it’s a REAL challenge to do life (as you know it) in a new place. It doesn’t look the same. It doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t even smell the same.
I’ve known marathon runners who threw up on their first run in China because of air pollution.
I’ve known musicians who couldn’t find an outlet for their music in their new spot.
Chefs who can’t get baking powder.
Artists who can’t find art stores.
More often than not though, it comes down to the fact that their motivation just got kicked in the gut. They had to spend so much of their energy re-learning how to do regular life stuff that they really struggle to find the space for the things they love.
Again. Fair.
But.
Transition is the process of becoming YOU again. Did you catch that? It’s a process. Movement from one highly functional place to another with a completely dysfunctional dip in the middle.
So.
When the time is right, remember who YOU ARE.
Finish the sentence. I AM ___________________.
A runner?
An artist?
A writer?
An entrepreneur?
A designer?
A people person?
An introvert?
An encourager?
A party animal?
A reader?
A hiker?
A dreamer?
Then dig into the HEART of why YOU are who YOU are. What is it about that thing that makes you come alive? Maybe you can’t do it in the same way but maybe . . . just maybe . . . you can. Or you can find a substitute that recaptures some of it. Or you can create a space that hits the same mark in a different way. Or you might just discover something new about yourself while you’re digging around.
The point is that if a piece of YOU is missing in your new place you don’t have to settle for it.
But we do.
We run the “I used to be so good at” or “I gave up so much to” or “I just can’t anymore” narratives in our head until we believe that there is no way around it.
Don’t give up that easily. This is YOU we’re talking about.
THREE: Postpone your expectations. Don’t forget them.
I HATE the phrase “lower your expectations.”
I get it. I understand the heart behind it. Going in expecting to be able to function at the same level as you did in the last place is a recipe for a letdown.
“So just expect it to be horrible. Then you won’t be disappointed.”
No. Just no. Stop saying that.
Expect delays. Expect challenges. Expect frustration. Expect hiccups, and speed bumps, and problems (big and small) ALONG THE WAY to a fully functional, (dare I say) thriving life where you are not only enjoying the best bits of who YOU are but you are pouring them out on the people around you.
Write this down – it’s important.
You should NEVER compare the beginning of the new thing to the end of the last thing.
That’s not fair.
That’s like a farmer planting seeds and coming back to harvest the next day.
“Why is there no corn here?! I PLANTED CORN YESTERDAY!!”
I’m not a farmer but even I know the answer to that. “Because you chopped it all down a few months ago.”
It took time in the last place. You had to figure it out. You had to meet the people. You had to build the relationships. You had to learn the systems. You had to set things in motion and find the rhythm.
None of that is in place when you move into a new thing.
None of it.
You chopped it down.
So plant the seed. Set the right environment. Put the right things in. Keep the wrong things out. Start with some tiny roots. Then give yourself the space and the grace to emerge in due time.
You’ll get there — even if you can’t get there yet.
If you are in the middle of a big move or a massive life transition there is so much hope. There is hope in the collective groanings of “I am not alone.” There is hope in the process of transition. There is hope in the core of who YOU are.
If you have forgotten yourself — go get yourself back.
Like globally-minded, would be (or former) world travelers and serial expats who haven’t been on an airplane (or put on pants) in over a year.
The tension is mounting.
We’re lined up. Anxiously and impatiently waiting for the CDC and the WHO to pull the trigger on that stupid starter pistol.
We’ve been grounded.
Wheels down.
AND (as you would expect when humans are involved) it hasn’t been pretty. Our worst bits came out. Things got ugly. We pointed fingers and called names. We shamed each other. We canceled each other. We jumped on political and social bandwagons and tried to crush each other with naughty words and hilarious memes.
We showed our teeth and our true colors. The masks came off as soon as the masks went on.
And now.
We can see the faintest, slightest, tiniest inkling of a glimmer of the possibility of the potential of a fraction of hope.
We’re not jumping the gun.
We’re waiting.
We’re skeptical.
We’re cynical.
We’re broken.
But we are SO READY.
So what is life going to look like now? If and when this surreal nightmare comes to an end (whatever that means), how are we going to go about the process of rediscovering (or maybe redefining) normal?
We’ve been speculating those questions since this thing began but most of the theories and guesses have been formed in the “normal” world. Going back to school. Getting back in the office. Returning to the theaters and the restaurants and the concerts (remember those?) and all of the places where dozens or hundreds or thousands of people smash themselves together and only give each other the regular diseases.
But there is a twist to this story.
Thousands — probably hundreds of thousands of people will be moving this year into a NEW, NEW NORMAL Relocating to a new place. Starting a new role. Moving to a new country. Returning to an old one.
Transitioning from one way of life into a COMPLETELY different one while simultaneously recovering from the most globally impacting event in the history of … well, history.
Transition into a new thing is challenging enough but compound that with the impact and inevitably long lasting remnants of the last year and it gets down right complex.
If you’re standing at the gate, staring at big changes on the tail end of bigger changes, you’re in for the race of your life.
Here are three critical thoughts to tuck away as you consider what this incredibly complex, multi-layered next leg of your journey is going to look like.
BUT FIRST ONE DISCLAIMER
This is not rocket science. This is nothing revolutionary or groundbreaking and quite frankly, you would be good to apply ANY of these under ANY circumstances at ANY stage of life.
AND
ESPECIALLY right now — they are game-changers.
These four golden nuggets will transform your next. They are the difference between taking the leap and falling off the edge.
Here we go.
Double the PATIENCE
Duh right? Never a bad thing to be patient, especially in a transitional state. But pause. Consider the deep realities of what you’re about to step into. This is NOT normal — and the hard-hitting wake-up call that always travels with significant change is that THINGS TAKE LONGER.
They just do.
You can’t accomplish the simplest tasks in your new space in the same way that you could in that old space. It took you time to figure life out there. You developed systems and routines. You learned names and places and eventually, you could set parts of your life on auto-pilot.
News flash — your auto-pilot doesn’t work when your path changes.
Not yet. It takes time.
That’s normal transition. Now multiply that by COVID. Not only is YOUR new normal not normal but literally, for the first time in your life, EVERY PLACE in the world is NOT NORMAL.
So while you are figuring it out, they are too.
You don’t have to give up. That’s not what patience is. It’s actually the exact opposite
“Ah well. Pandemic. Guess it’s just gonna’ be terrible.”
Nope. It’s not. BUT it might take longer this time for it to get good. Commit to the long haul on the front end. Anticipate delays and slower than usual movement. And press on.
Patience young one. Patience.
Three times the GRACE
I think I’m probably the first to notice this but people are not always the best version of themselves during a pandemic.
Am I right?
We just went through some stuff. Like, all of us. Every single human.
So run the numbers. What are the chances that the new place you are going to is filled with people who are struggling and stretched thin?
Did you say 99%?
So close. Missed it by one.
Being the new kid is always stressful but being a new kid in a tornado is some next-level stuff.
Be willing to entertain the thought that first impressions shouldn’t chart your course. Your new people just went through some major challenges. They switched into panic mode and scrambled to figure out how to keep moving forward. There were some tense meetings. Some sacrifices. Some hard goodbyes. If they had been allowed in the same room they might have choked each other.
(Zoom saves lives)
And you just showed up. “Hey guys! Really excited to be here. Let’s do this thing.”
For your own safety, maybe you should try that on a Zoom call first.
Recognizing that your new people are recovering (just like you are) and giving them grace in the short term to be less than on point will not only greatly increase your capacity to enjoy them, it will astronomically increase the likelihood that they will do the same for you.
Grace new kid. Grace
Incessant THANKFULNESS
Sob stories have never been so prevalent or hard-earned. We’ve all got one. This has been hard.
COVID has served up a massive helping of change which comes with a big bowl of loss and your choice of three sides. Look around. Most people prefer whininess, self-pity, and (it’s a tie between) self-righteous indignation or sarcastic mockery.
Pandemics come with bitter side dishes. So do big moves. Trying to navigate both at the same time is loss gluttony. The narrative naturally turns dark.
It makes sense — and it’s fair. The loss is real. The pain is legit. The stories are true.
Choosing thankfulness in a loss context though, is a flat out muscle choice. It’s not the natural go to for most people. You might even get funny looks.
“You want WHAT with your COVID story?! Thankfulness?! Would you also like some ketchup in your coffee?”
Losing sight of the richness around you is a downward spiral. You know it is. You’ve ridden that ride before.
There are two flavors of thankfulness though.
‘BUT thankfulness.’
Or ‘AND thankfulness.’
“BUT thankfulness” is a weak, happy stamping attempt to cancel the pain.
“My life’s a mess. I lost my job. I haven’t seen a real person in 15 months … but I’m sure thankful for Zoom calls.”
You’re reaching.
Plus it just sounds like you’re 12 years old … snortlaugh “You said ‘butt thankfulness.”
‘AND thankfulness’ on the other hand, is an intentional acknowledgment that your story is more than just a COVID tragedy. It doesn’t ignore the hard parts. It calls them out. Wrestles with them. Does the hard processing.
AND
Never loses sight of the rich bits.
EVER.
Not for a second.
The best bits of your life are always there — Not in the background — As the foundation.
When you stack one transition on top of another you can safely bet that more loss, more stress, and more sobs are going to show up in the next part of your story. Now is NOT the time to pretend it’s not hard AND it is absolutely NOT the time to forget (or ignore) what you are truly thankful for.
Thankfulness friend. Tuck that away. You’re going to need it.
I’m a huge fan of transition and the people who are walking through it.
It excites me to think about the big moves that are going to bust out of the gate the second the trigger is pulled. It’s going to be a pivotal year for a lot of people.
There is a MASSIVE difference between “oops” and intentionality.
You’ve been there right? Tell me I’m not the only one.
The clock says three hours past your bedtime but your brain is in full-on bargaining mode.
One more episode won’t kill me.
I’ll catch a nap tomorrow.
I stayed up way later than this in college.
Three episodes later, when the dark reality of tomorrow indisputably outweighs the primal urge for just one more, you muster the courage to hit the power button (before you can change your mind).
And the wave of shame comes crashing in.
You just WASTED an ENTIRE DAY binge-watching 4 seasons of a show that wasn’t even that good.
You showed zero self-discipline.
Zero restraint.
Zero control.
You produced nothing.
Contributed nothing.
And you have NOTHING to show for it.
The only thing you can be proud of is that you earned back the two minutes it would have taken you to put your pajamas back on had you gotten dressed this morning.
At least there’s that.
So to quote a good therapist, “how does that make you feel?”
Lazy?
Guilty?
Embarrassed?
Pathetic?
Pretty certain that you’ll do the same thing tomorrow?
Here’s the thing. SOMETIMES the one thing you NEED more than anything is to detach — to shut your brain off — to unplug — to let Netflix do your thinking because your thinker is busted.
SOMETIMES … you need to disconnect.
AND
There is a MASSIVE difference between “oops” and intentionality.
Imagine the same day. The same scenario. The same binge with some forethought.
Instead of the shamewave of “I just wasted an entire day” what if you gave yourself permission ahead of time? Planned it. Declared it. Looked forward to it.
“I’m taking a full day and doing absolutely nothing except clicking ‘next episode’.”
The end of that day is a completely different experience.
You actually accomplished a goal.
You had permission instead of breaking the “rules.”
You paid attention to your own exhaustion instead of being crushed by it.
Sidenote — This isn’t about Netflix. That’s a metaphor. You get that right?
It’s about RETREAT.
Pulling back when you need to pull back.
Shutting down when you need to shut down.
Crashing when you need to crash.
But doing it with forethought and intentionality instead of regret and humiliation.
SOMETIMES, and (write this down) ESPECIALLY in times of significant change, you NEED to STOP. Your cup is full and overflowing with high consequence decisions. The demands are intense. The implications are overwhelming. The pressure is consuming.
Has anything changed for you recently? (he writes with a snort-laugh because it is 2021)
Maybe it’s time to pause and consider what an intentional disconnect might look like.
Here are some thoughts on Retreating Well.
Stop faking it
Hey! People of 2021. You just went through some stuff. You took a beating. We all did. So for the love of everything that is good and for the sake of everything hanging in the balance, cut yourself some slack.
You’re not better because you never take a break. That is such a broken narrative.
You’re not superhuman because you pretend to be.
You’re not bulletproof just because you got shot.
You’re not fooling anyone. Scratch that. Maybe you are, but the reality still exists. Just stop. Acknowledge what you’ve been through and how bad it hurts. Label what has changed and call out the impact it has had on you.
Know what YOU need.
This is not a prescription for a digital bender. That may sound horrible to you. So what DO you need? What would feed your soul instead of sucking the life out of it? What would truly allow you to rest with intentionality and temporarily shut off the noise?
Be realistic
Retreat is the exact opposite of ignoring reality. Ignoring reality is what happens when your body and your subconscious brain initiates a hostile takeover because they’ve been screaming at you and you refuse to listen.
Hence “oops I just wasted a day.”
Retreat is a strategic plan to engage your challenges with a better version of yourself. The hard stuff doesn’t take a break so you have to plan around it. Carve out the right time to shut down without creating bigger problems.
Plan ahead
Joy is directly connected to anticipation and quality is directly connected to forethought. Think it through. What needs to be in place for you to get the most out of disconnecting?
Family out of the house?
“Out of office” message set up?
Queso in the fridge?
Think through the details and then, let the excitement build. Look forward to it instead of just doing it on a whim.
Tell someone
Shame hides in the dark, scared that it’s going to get ratted out.
Think about the difference though when you shift the tense from past (oops) to future (intent).
“Yesterday I laid on the couch and watched 4 seasons of Growing Pains.”
Response to that — “Wow. Anything you need to talk about?”
“I’m shutting down Saturday. Not leaving the house. Not getting out of my PJ’s. Binge-watching 80’s sitcoms.”
Response — “Wow, that sounds incredible. You might be my hero.”
Letting people know about your retreat will reaffirm that you have nothing to be ashamed of and it might just inspire them to do the same.
Don’t hide.
Set the end time
This is critical. A retreat without an end time is just a rut. Don’t leave it open-ended.
So how long should a retreat be? Great question.
What do you need? What’s realistic?
An hour? A day? A weekend?
When do you cross the line between healthy disconnection and just plain lazy?
Regardless, setting that time in advance and KNOWING that when time is up you are going to fully reengage is astronomically better than trusting future you to end it when it feels right.
This year has been hard.
Stop pretending it hasn’t impacted you. Stop apologizing for needing a break. Stop stomping on the gas when you’re stuck in the mud.
Just stop – but do it with a plan.
Because there is a MASSIVE difference between “oops” and intentionality.
Ten years ago today I hit “publish” for the first time. I had no clue.
I had no clear agenda. No long term goal. No 10 step plan for optimizing SEO, driving traffic, managing bounce rate, or maximizing widgets.
I barely knew what a blog was.
I just knew that cultures, smashing together, mixing, tangling, merging, jumbling, sometimes exploding, but always blending, was something that sparked my synapses, and I wanted a place to write about it.
So, with the expert tech support of my way cooler and much more savvy colleagues, we launched a blog with this post.
The Culture Blend has been a decade long whiteboard for scribbling out the thoughts that keep me up at night and a platform for sharing what I am learning along the way. It has followed me through repatriation, re-expatriation, experimental expatriation, and re-repatriation and it has given birth to three books.
More than anything … it has been a point of connection. A watering hole where global beasts and traveling herds with vast differences and similar stories have come together, interacted, gotten some refreshment, and moved on to the next thing. I am so thankful for the kindred souls that I may never have met had I never hit “publish” in 2011.
So if you’ve got a minute, celebrate with me. Reminisce a little. Dig into something you missed along the way. Connect. Reconnect. Reach out to your global people and remember how good it is when cultures blend.
Here are the Top Ten Culture Blend Posts from the past ten years
If you are running, leading, investing in, managing, or somehow otherwise involved in the oversight of an international business, team, or organization, someone in your group is shoveling money out the window.
You should do something about that.
Transitory teams are built on the principle of the revolving door. People come in, people go out.
It’s understood
It’s inevitable.
So we adjust. We crunch the numbers. We calculate the extra costs. We stamp a sticker price on every measurable, objective expenditure that fits neatly onto a spreadsheet.
Recruiting.
Marketing.
Processing.
Vetting.
Plane tickets.
Shipping.
Visas.
Training.
All obvious, ADDITIONAL costs that come with doing business abroad. Every line item adds up to equal the price tag which gets smacked on the forehead of every person who walks through the revolving door.
Oh, if it were just that simple.
Write this down, it’s important.
That price tag is a lie.
That number gives a false sense of security to decision-makers and spreadsheet owners. The door may be the only way in BUT the windows are wide open . . . and someone has a shovel.
Here’s what is happening in the background.
At any given time a third of your people are likely adjusting to a whole new world.
A third are considering leaving it.
And all of them are wrestling with ongoing changes.
The NEWBIES
Live in a world of “NOTHING is NOT new.”
They operate on a learning curve where even the simplest tasks (personal and professional) take more time, energy, and support (all requiring resources).
They often feel like dependent rookies even when they were seasoned superstars in the last place.
They are forced into vulnerability, constantly asking for help or worse, pretending they don’t need it.
They often translate constant (necessary) change as unprofessional or worse, unethical.
They get excited because they can clearly see EVERYTHING that is wrong and set about fixing it … with ZERO relational capital.
Then they get frustrated when no one likes their ideas. They feel unheard, dismissed, or disrespected.
They retreat, withdraw, cut loose, blow up, disconnect, dominate, or find some other way to medicate with what FEELS good instead of what IS good.
They feel pressure and guilt from “back home” to “get this ‘adventure phase’ out of their system.”
They question their decision.
They question your competence.
They show up to work and do their job.
The STAYERS
Mourn the loss of last years leavers.
They often resent the arrival of this year’s Newbies.
They miss innovative ideas because Newbies are annoying.
They adjust and readjust to a community that is “not like it used to be”.
They begin to wonder if investing in new relationships is even worth it.
They navigate the MASSIVE challenge of unsatisfied families who DO NOT “love it here.”
OR the equally MASSIVE challenges of singleness abroad.
They may feel pressure and guilt from “back home” to stop missing every wedding, every funeral, and every niece’s birthday.
They begin to question whether the investment is worth the return.
They sporadically, routinely, or constantly question whether this is the year they should leave.
They show up to work and do their job.
The LOCALS
Get utilized at a fraction of their potential because they are viewed as less valuable than foreign workers.
They contribute sparingly because “what’s the point? You’re not listening and you’ll leave anyway.”
They often form grudges because they caught a glimpse of the foreigner pay package.
They may grow bitter because their perceived intelligence (and value) is unjustly attached to the accent of their 2nd or 3rd language by people who live in THEIR country and can’t say three words.
They feel marginalized by systems designed to favor foreign staff while they do the heavy lifting in the background.
They feel bound by cultural mandates on hospitality and conflict, leaving them no healthy outlet for grievance.
OR they get tagged as aggressive and hostile because they handle it the “wrong” way.
They do endless, thankless, grunt work for helpless people in exchange for a pat on the back and a Starbucks gift card.
They begin to question the integrity or intelligence of the organization.
They question their career choice.
They show up to work and do their job.
The LEAVERS
Start checking out as soon as the decision is made.
They drop the big vision project that they couldn’t wait to champion last year.
They daydream about next.
They stress about next.
They spend company time googling job offers and used cars.
They stop offering input into a place they won’t be.
OR frantically try to “fortify” so it won’t fall apart when they’re gone.
They disconnect from relationships to brace for departure (sometimes even subconsciously sabotaging to make it easier to leave).
They miss the chance to resolve conflict because leaving will “fix it.”
They often question whether they’ve had the impact that they once dreamed of.
They question their remaining contribution.
They show up to work and do their job.
The BIG PICTURE
When the measure is, “are people showing up and doing their job?” then all is well.
It looks like this.
Peel back the top layer, however, and you’ll discover something much different. Even a cursory peek into the hearts and minds your people will paint a vivid picture of very costly realities.
Your real org chart looks something like this
YES they are showing up. YES they are getting the job done.
But look around.
There are people in the margins.
There are people on their way out.
There are strugglers.
There are strainers.
There are toxic pockets of people who are scrambling to find a place where their frustrations can be vented.
More often than not, that gets aimed at leadership.
Those things don’t have a budget line item — BUT THEY ABSOLUTELY SHOW UP AT THE BOTTOM.
The unseen impact takes a heavy toll on:
Satisfaction
Productivity
Longevity
The GOOD NEWS
The realities of transition are incredibly costly but they do not (necessarily) equal dysfunction. Cross-cultural organizations, by nature, are forced to adapt or fail.
It’s what we do.
Unfortunately, we often adapt to the wrong things.
We treat the symptoms instead of the disease.
We put out the fires instead of fixing the faulty wiring.
We keep playing the game but we learn to play with a limp.
It’s just the cost of business abroad,
Right?
So, so wrong.
There are, without a doubt, unavoidable challenges beneath the surface — things that you can never change, eliminate, or outsmart.
BUT
If YOU don’t know what they are … specifically … in detail … by name …
then the shovel is in your hand.
When you discover what is beneath the surface, you can ask the RIGHT questions to the RIGHT people instead of the same questions to every person.
When you IDENTIFY where your people are on their journey and what is really going on for them, you can start taking steps toward DRAMATICALLY lowering the HIGH HIDDEN COST OF TRANSITION.
