<p>By Venkateswaran K</p> <p>Recently, I wished an ex-colleague a Happy New Year, and he messaged me back: “Thanks, Venkat-san.” That simple suffix sent me down memory lane, reminding me of my time as a project manager for a Japanese client. In their culture, san is more than just a title; it is a mark of deep-seated respect.</p>.<p>As many of us are aware, the Japanese are incredibly process-oriented and unyielding about timelines. Coming from an Indian work culture, I’ll admit I had a tough time keeping pace. I vividly remember a meeting where my Japanese counterparts asked for the upcoming schedule. I presented our plan confidently, only to be met with a question that completely baffled me: “Where is the backup plan?”</p>.<p>I almost retorted that back home, we are lucky to have a primary plan, let alone a backup—but I bit my tongue; gave a sheepish nod; and promised to have one ready.</p>.The Yin and Yang of career planning.<p>This meticulousness extended to every facet of the project. They were particularly insistent that any reported issue wasn’t just solved but that its root cause was unearthed so it would never recur. My team spent countless hours documenting “Five Whys” analyses for every single issue. By the end of the project, we had become so proficient that the issue reports practically vanished—perhaps because we had mastered the craft, or perhaps because the team just dreaded the paperwork!</p>.<p>One incident, however, stays with me most vividly. We had a customer meeting scheduled for 9:00 am in Japan. At 8:45 am, we received a call: the client was caught in traffic and would be fifteen minutes late. They arrived at 9:15 am sharp. As they entered, they performed a deep bow—a saikeirei—to show their sincere regret for the delay, despite having warned us in advance. Coming from a culture where punctuality is often viewed more flexibly, I was deeply moved by the reverence they showed for our time.</p>.<p>During that same meeting, our hosts spoke in English, but as we moved into critical business details, they switched to Japanese. They preferred the precision of their native tongue to ensure nothing was misconstrued—a stark contrast to the hesitation, or even mortification, some of us feel when speaking our mother tongue in a professional setting.</p>.<p>It has been a long time since that project concluded. I have since moved on to other roles, but I like to believe that I have hopefully carried with me some of those admirable traits of the Japanese san.</p>.<p>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH. </p>
<p>By Venkateswaran K</p> <p>Recently, I wished an ex-colleague a Happy New Year, and he messaged me back: “Thanks, Venkat-san.” That simple suffix sent me down memory lane, reminding me of my time as a project manager for a Japanese client. In their culture, san is more than just a title; it is a mark of deep-seated respect.</p>.<p>As many of us are aware, the Japanese are incredibly process-oriented and unyielding about timelines. Coming from an Indian work culture, I’ll admit I had a tough time keeping pace. I vividly remember a meeting where my Japanese counterparts asked for the upcoming schedule. I presented our plan confidently, only to be met with a question that completely baffled me: “Where is the backup plan?”</p>.<p>I almost retorted that back home, we are lucky to have a primary plan, let alone a backup—but I bit my tongue; gave a sheepish nod; and promised to have one ready.</p>.The Yin and Yang of career planning.<p>This meticulousness extended to every facet of the project. They were particularly insistent that any reported issue wasn’t just solved but that its root cause was unearthed so it would never recur. My team spent countless hours documenting “Five Whys” analyses for every single issue. By the end of the project, we had become so proficient that the issue reports practically vanished—perhaps because we had mastered the craft, or perhaps because the team just dreaded the paperwork!</p>.<p>One incident, however, stays with me most vividly. We had a customer meeting scheduled for 9:00 am in Japan. At 8:45 am, we received a call: the client was caught in traffic and would be fifteen minutes late. They arrived at 9:15 am sharp. As they entered, they performed a deep bow—a saikeirei—to show their sincere regret for the delay, despite having warned us in advance. Coming from a culture where punctuality is often viewed more flexibly, I was deeply moved by the reverence they showed for our time.</p>.<p>During that same meeting, our hosts spoke in English, but as we moved into critical business details, they switched to Japanese. They preferred the precision of their native tongue to ensure nothing was misconstrued—a stark contrast to the hesitation, or even mortification, some of us feel when speaking our mother tongue in a professional setting.</p>.<p>It has been a long time since that project concluded. I have since moved on to other roles, but I like to believe that I have hopefully carried with me some of those admirable traits of the Japanese san.</p>.<p>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH. </p>
