An Epic Trip With My Bosses
As an employee of a local manufacturing company specializing in international business, I often found myself on solo trips overseas. But one day, I received a surprise email from Paul, the company’s president. He and Carl, the CEO, wanted to join me on my next business trip to China, starting with a visit to a supplier in India and then attending the famous Canton Fair.
With excitement and some trepidation, I quickly got to work, organizing our itinerary and making all the necessary arrangements. I shopped for our flight tickets, booked our hotels, obtained invitation letters from suppliers and the trade show for visa applications, and applied for visas to India and China. I also arranged tours of the factories we would be visiting and secured transportation. I even made sure to notify our credit card issuer of our travel plans and exchanged foreign currency.
When it came to accommodation, I thought about saving the company some money by having Paul and Carl share a room. But Carl quickly dismissed that idea, citing Paul’s snoring habits. I was grateful for his honesty and made sure to secure separate rooms for everyone.
As the flight to India would be long and grueling, I considered getting Business Class tickets for my bosses. However, I checked with them first.
“I’m shopping for our flight tickets now,” I said to Carl, whose office was right next to mine. “Would you and Paul prefer First Class or Business Class?”
“Same as yours, Lily,” he replied.
“Then we will all fly in Economy Class,” I said.
Paul, the oldest among us, is in his early fifties, and Carl, like me, is in his early forties. They both are in good health and could withstand the long journey, I thought.
A young, blonde employee overheard our conversation and made a comment about the three of us flying together. She couldn’t resist giggling at the thought of two tall Caucasian men sandwich a petite Chinese lady in the middle. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her and made sure to reserve aisle seats for my bosses in an exit row, ensuring they had enough legroom and could stretch out during the flight.
Unfortunately, my India visa was delayed, so Paul and Carl had to depart without me. But thankfully, our China visas were approved smoothly, and I arranged to meet them later at Baiyun Airport in Canton. Despite the unexpected delay and challenges, I was eager to embark on this business adventure with my bosses and explore all that China had to offer.
#
As I anxiously scanned the crowd at the airport, I finally spotted Carl and Paul. But as they drew closer, my heart sank. They looked as though they had been through the ringer, their faces pale and drawn, as if they had just returned from a brutal battle. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to them.
It was clear that they were not in the mood to talk. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Paul finally managed to muster the strength to speak. “You’re lucky you didn’t make it to India, Lily,” he said wearily. “We’ve been sleepless for the past 72 hours. The hotel was a disaster. People were so loud, and they had parties every day throughout the night. We complained about the noise, but nothing was done. The road to the supplier’s rural factory was long and blocked by cows. There were cows everywhere. And the streets were dirty and crowded with people and animals. When a man was injured on the street, all vehicles had to stop, and people had to get out of their cars to stand and watch the injured man, as this was their custom. We were not allowed to leave, so we waited on the street for hours, observing the half-dead man.”
Canton Fair was our first stop in China, and I had faced difficulties in finding suitable accommodation. All the hotels near the trade show were fully booked while I was in the U.S. planning the trip, and the only options were an hour away by taxi. Fortunately, I managed to secure three rooms at the Scholar and Expert’s Suites of a local university. The hotel was just a ten-minute subway ride from the trade show.
But the next morning at breakfast, Carl and Paul looked like they had barely slept a wink. “I was looking forward to having a good night sleep in China, but the mattress was so hard. Now I have back pain,” one complained.
“The same happened to me,” the other chimed in. “The entire night I had been turning and tossing this way and that way.”
Then came the innocent, pleading smiles. “Can you please get us a softer bed, Lily?” Carl asked, with a childlike expression. Paul echoed the request.
I tried to help by speaking to the hotel manager, but it was clear that softer mattresses were not an option. “These suites are meant for scholars and experts. They believe hard beds are better for the back,” the manager explained.
#
The bustling Canton Fair was a frenzy of activity, with crowds of people jostling each other as they visited booth after booth with different vendors. By the end of the day, my bosses were famished and in desperate need of a good meal (We had settled for McDonald’s food for lunch at the trade show, but the taste was subpar, and we didn’t want to wait in line for another half an hour to get Kentucky Fried Chicken or Chinese fast food).
Luckily, Canton City offered a beautiful respite from the chaotic trade show. The city was clean and well-organized, with stunning architecture and colorful flowers and plants adorning the streets. The October weather was perfect, and a cool autumn breeze made us want to take a leisurely walk through the city.
We stumbled upon a bustling Chinese restaurant, where two weddings were taking place. My bosses were immediately drawn to a massive tank filled with a plethora of fish, and their extensive knowledge of fish species evident as they excitedly pointed out the different types. The restaurant offered to cook the fish in any style, and after learning that they could purchase the biggest fish in the tank, Paul and Carl decided to get the three-foot-long striped bass. Paul even had the opportunity to catch the fish himself with a fishing net, adding to the excitement of the meal.
As we eagerly awaited our steamed fish, we were captivated by the restaurant’s astonishing parade of roasted piglets, steamed lobsters, steamed turtles, and other delectable dishes being served to the wedding attendees. When our own fish fillet finally arrived, it proved to be tender and scrumptious. However, the portion size was incredibly huge, leaving us only able to consume a mere fraction of it. I briefly pondered the idea of taking the leftovers to offer to the professor friend who assisted us in securing our university hotel, but ultimately decided against it.
#
The next evening, Paul had his heart set on Italian food at a five-star hotel an hour away by taxi. Unfortunately, hiring a taxi during rush hour proved to be a major obstacle. Despite stopping multiple taxis, either someone would beat us to it, or the drivers would refuse to go that far due to shift changes.
In previous years, hiring a taxi in Canton was a convenient experience due to the fierce competition among service providers. However, during the current period, Canton was bustling with both the Asian Olympics and China’s biggest trade show taking place simultaneously. With the Chinese government determined to safeguard the country’s reputation and enhance its image in the eyes of foreigners, stringent measures were implemented, resulting in a ban on private taxis and auto rickshaws being visible on the streets.
Eventually, we spotted a three-wheeler vehicle and offered to pay double the fare to take us to our destination. The driver agreed, and we hopped on, feeling victorious.
Riding in the three-wheeler auto rickshaw was a blast, more thrilling than any Disney ride and more exhilarating than an open-roofed racing car. The vehicle deftly maneuvered through the congested streets, allowing us to bypass the stalled taxis and cars. My bosses were so joyful and playful, like big kids having the time of their lives, and I couldn’t help but feel happy for them.
As the autumn wind blew on our faces, Paul and Carl laughed delightfully and waved "bye-bye" to the taxis we passed.
Twenty minutes had passed since we hopped on the rickshaw, and the Americans were in high spirits, enjoying the bumpy ride down a high bridge when the unexpected happened—the police were after us. The driver refused to stop and sped up, causing us to dart through red traffic lights and drive against the traffic flow on a busy street.
My bosses’ faces went from red with excitement to pale with fear as they gripped their seats tightly. “I'm afraid I won't make it back to see my wife again,” murmured Paul, while Carl mumbled, “It will be a shame if I die like this.”
I couldn’t sit there and do nothing, so I stood up and leaned towards the driver, urging him to pull over for everyone’s safety. But the driver refused, shouting back that his entire family lived on the rickshaw, and he’d rather die than be caught by the police and have his vehicle seized.
The speeding rickshaw tossed me to and fro, akin to a small tree caught in a powerful gust of wind, despite my desperate attempt to grip onto one of the rickshaw's poles and anchor my feet to the floor. I pleaded with the driver again, “Please don’t drive against the flow of traffic. If an accident occurs, your family will lose their main source of income.” Overwhelmed with emotion, the driver sobbed and said, “I apologize, but I would rather endanger your lives and my life than face the consequences. If the police apprehend me, they will confiscate my rickshaw, imprison me, and impose substantial penalties. I cannot bear the thought of my child, wife, and elderly parents going hungry.”
As the chase continued, more police joined in, and at one point, an officer on a motorcycle tried to grab hold of the handlebar, but the driver kept slapping his hand away. I knew I had to intervene before things got worse.
I desperately implored the pursuing police officers to halt their chase, stressing the importance of my American bosses’ safety as they were attending the Canton Fair. However, my pleas fell on deaf ears. The velocity of our chaotic pursuit resembled a forceful gust of wind, possibly preventing the police from hearing my words, I surmised. Determined to ensure my message reached their ears, I raised my voice and repeatedly bellowed from the depths of my lungs, “Please cease this pursuit! By continuing to chase, you are putting my American bosses at risk. They have come here to attend the Canton Fair, representing a company that has been faithfully procuring products from China for the past decade. If any harm befalls these two Americans due to your relentless pursuit, it will jeopardize the relationship between our two countries...”
After engaging in negotiations for a prolonged ten minutes, we ultimately reached a resolution: the rickshaw driver would halt only if the police made the first move, coming to a stop across the street, approximately 200 meters away. In exchange, I would undertake the responsibility of covering the driver's penalty fees.
As we hopped into a real taxi and headed to the Italian restaurant, my bosses burst into laughter, relieved that we made it out alive. They even compared the chase to O.J. Simpson’s infamous police chase in Los Angeles and joked about finding themselves in satellite footage.
Carl admitted that he had mistaken my passionate plea for yelling at the police, which further alarmed them, intensifying the situation. Meanwhile, Paul boasted about his bravery. “I was considering knocking out the driver and taking over the wheel myself.”
Later, Paul directed his gaze towards me and remarked, “You should not have taken the risk of paying the driver's penalty yourself. Both Carl and I were genuinely concerned for your well-being as you dashed across the street towards the police. We were afraid they might incarcerate you, but rest assured, we would have done everything in our power to secure your release had that happened.”
Throughout the rest of the evening, they excitedly recounted the events of the police chase repeatedly. Whether it was during our meal at the luxurious Italian restaurant, the taxi ride back to the hotel, or even during dinner with a supplier the following evening, the story was retold with fervor. Despite the inherent danger we faced, I was grateful that the chase left my bosses with a fond memory, and we all made it out safely.
#
Our next stop was Ningbo, a city bustling with industrial activity. We had a jam-packed itinerary ahead of us, starting with visits to three suppliers in the area before moving on to other cities. We arrived at the airport two hours before our scheduled flight, eager to get started on our adventure. And as they say, time flies when you’re having fun.
Our group was in high spirits, chatting and laughing, even when the loudspeaker announced a delay to our flight. We didn’t let it bother us and decided to enjoy a leisurely lunch while we waited for the plane to be ready. However, as hours ticked by, our patience started to wear thin. Finally, after three long hours, the loudspeaker crackled to life once again, announcing that the plane had an engine problem. Paul and Carl started to get restless, their unease palpable.
“I’m not getting on that plane,” one of my bosses said. “Do you have any other options, Lily?”
Without missing a beat, I offered to cancel our flight and book tickets for the next day. However, this meant canceling our current hotel reservation in Ningbo and either rearranging our entire schedule or skipping some factory tours. My bosses decided to stick with our original plan, and we boarded the plane after the engine had been fixed.
The flight was short, lasting only two hours, but we landed in Ningbo after sunset. Our first supplier was a crucial contact, and we had a lot planned with them. Unfortunately, due to the flight delay, we missed seeing their production line in action, but we still got to tour the facilities. The supplier and his team had been patiently waiting for us, and they even had all the lights turned on to welcome us. They graciously guided us through the various facilities, showcasing the warehouses, machinery, finished products, semi-manufactured goods, and raw materials.
By the time we finished the factory tour, it was already late into the night, and we were famished. But I had arranged for a dinner reservation beforehand, and the supplier had gone above and beyond by arranging for a restaurant to stay open late just for us.
However, our good mood was short-lived when we arrived at our hotel to find out that our rooms had been given away to attendees of a national leadership conference. It was close to midnight, and we were all exhausted. After some negotiations with the hotel manager, I was able to secure three presidential suites for the price of executive suites, much to the delight of my bosses.
#
We kicked off the new day bright and early at seven o’clock. Over breakfast, Carl made an outlandish claim, “My bed is so huge, it could comfortably accommodate sixteen people! My room is decked out with hot springs, a massage bathtub, and a toilet that washes your behind. Unfortunately, I was so beat last night, I didn’t get a chance to use any of those fancy features.”
“I didn’t either,” Paul chimed in. “It’d be fantastic if we could extend our stay by another night.”
Much of our day was spent at the same supplier we had visited the previous day, and we didn’t leave until late afternoon.
Day three began with a pleasant visit to two vendors in the morning, and when we finished at the second factory around 1:00 p.m., the vendor treated us to lunch at a local seafood restaurant. The menu featured not only seafood but also steaks and other dishes, and we thoroughly enjoyed our meal.
However, tragedy struck later that afternoon on our way to a vendor two hours away in the countryside. “I urgently need to use the bathroom,” Paul said to our driver, who spoke English. “Could you please pull over somewhere?”
“There are no restrooms along the highway,” the driver replied. “But I’ll keep an eye out. If I don’t see one, I’ll take the next exit.”
But there was no restroom or exit to be found. Paul, who was in dire need of a toilet, kept begging the driver to stop the car, while the frustrated driver repeatedly said, “Sorry, I can’t stop in the middle of the highway. It’s too dangerous. We’ll probably come across an exit soon.”
“I can’t hold it in any longer,” Paul begged. “Can you please pull over on the side of the road?”
“It’s too dangerous to stop on the highway,” the driver reiterated. “I’ll speed up a bit.”
Frustrated, Paul started yelling, commanding the driver, “Stop! Now! Just stop the car.”
A few minutes later, as soon as the driver pulled over, Paul leaped out of the car and dashed to the nearby hillside. He returned shortly after, exclaiming, “I had an accident. I need to change my pants before visiting the supplier.”
Sitting in the backseat next to me, Paul apologized, “I’m sorry, Lily, for the smell.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “My sense of smell isn’t great, so I don’t detect anything strange. I hope you are feeling better now.”
Carl turned his head to glance at us in the backseat and exclaimed, “Are you sitting on your poo, Paul?” He tried to suppress a smile but couldn’t and burst into laughter.
#
After we visited the supplier in the countryside, it was quite late, Paul decided not to join Carl and me for dinner. He claimed he didn’t feel like eating anything and believed he had gotten food poisoning from either the steak or the seafood we had for lunch. I offered to take him to the hospital, but he declined, saying he had brought some medicine from the U.S. and all he needed was some rest.
Paul felt better the next morning, so we continued our trip as planned and headed to the airport for our flight to the north to visit a supplier in Shandong.
At the airport, customs officials stopped Paul because they discovered canned food in his carry-on luggage. They didn’t impose any penalties on him for bringing American food to China, but they tossed his food in the trash.
Carl couldn’t resist poking fun at his pal. “Hey, Paul! So, you were hiding in your room, indulging in canned food last night. I’m amazed at how you managed to get it through customs in India and Canton. You didn’t mention a word about bringing food from the U.S. to me.”
Shandong this time around was a stark contrast to my previous visits. The sky was nowhere to be seen, and the surroundings were shrouded in an eerie, dense fog. What was even more bizarre were the locals on the streets, sporting face masks. Our supplier informed us that the air pollution was so severe that it had persisted for weeks, with Beijing bearing the brunt of it. We were grateful to the supplier for providing us with some of the best face masks available.
#
As we headed to Jiangsu via a bullet train, we dined on board, hoping to save time. By the time we arrived, Paul was exhausted and desperate for a comfortable bed. Thankfully, his hotel room was more than satisfactory, and he soon drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
The following day was a long one, with Paul feeling unwell. However, he was determined to make the most of our visit, and we spent the day exploring our key supplier’s factory. With me serving as the interpreter, Paul went to great lengths to establish a deeper relationship with the supplier, chatting about their family, children, and hobbies. We delved into new products and discussed business in detail, inspecting their production procedures and product quality in the process. Despite feeling ill, Paul joined the supplier for lunch but barely ate a thing.
As evening approached, we were whisked away to a high-end restaurant. We were led to a spectacular box room, where a dozen young waitresses and waiters decked out in beautiful Chinese traditional clothing served us with grace and elegance. Unfortunately, Paul was unable to join us, feeling too unwell. We urged him to seek medical attention, but he declined, expressing his lack of faith in Chinese doctors and medicines. “They’ll likely do more harm than good and kill me faster. The best course of action for me is to sustain myself solely on water and rely on the pills I brought from the U.S.”
#
Yiwu, our final stop in China, was a blur of activity as we raced to meet our last supplier. The roads were jammed with traffic, and the four-hour journey took our Jiangsu supplier a grueling six hours to navigate. Upon arrival, we devoted the entire afternoon to touring the factory, and Paul seemed to be holding up fine. He was all smiles, cracking jokes, and even joined the supplier for dinner that evening.
Late that night, as we parted ways to retire to our own rooms, I couldn’t shake off a nagging worry I had about Paul’s health. I urged him to call me if he needed anything during the night, but he assured me that he’d be fine. Little did we know what was in store for us the next day.
As we gathered in the hotel lobby the following morning, Paul stumbled in last. His face was drained of color, and he looked like he hadn’t slept all night.
“Are you okay, Paul? You look terrible,” Carl and I asked at the same time.
“I’m not feeling well,” Paul replied weakly. “I didn’t get any sleep. I spent the whole night throwing up and felt like I could be sick at any moment. I ended up resting my head on the toilet bowl all night. And I was incredibly thirsty, but I couldn’t find any water.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked, concerned.
“I tried, but the phone in my room wasn’t working. The line was completely dead.”
I was puzzled. “That doesn’t make sense. My room had bottled water and snacks, and your room should have had even more since it was more expensive.”
We approached the front desk, expressing our concerns, and they assured us that every executive suite was supposed to be equipped with six bottles of water—two on the desk and four in the fridge. They claimed that two housekeepers had thoroughly checked every item in each suite. However, when a staff member accompanied us to Paul’s room, we discovered six untouched bottles of water and a functioning phone. Paul was bewildered.
Later, the Yiwu supplier revealed a chilling truth—there was a ghost that haunted this hotel. Apparently, a woman had taken her own life in front of her fiancé after he left her for another woman. And strange incidents like what Paul had experienced had occurred to other male guests as well.
#
To make matters worse, as we arrived at the Shanghai airport for our flight back to the U.S., the airline took away Paul’s exit row seat, claiming that only healthy and strong passengers could sit there. He was relegated to a regular aisle seat far from Carl’s exit row seat and my window seat. And to add insult to injury, his carry-on luggage was deemed overweight and had to be checked in.
After a long and turbulent flight, we finally landed at JFK Airport in New York. As we gathered our luggage, I couldn’t help but notice the conspicuous red wine stain on Paul’s dress shirt. With a heavy sigh, he recounted the horror he had experienced on the flight. “I was surrounded by a group of rowdy tourists,” he explained. “They were throwing punches over my head or jostling the persons next to me as they constantly moved in and out, passing by. I could only assume it was their first time flying. And as if that wasn’t enough, a flight attendant unintentionally spilled wine all over my brand-new shirt while handing a glass to the person seated next to me! I was left shivering from the cold, but my spare clothes were unfortunately stowed away in my checked luggage.”
As we waited for our connecting flight, Paul and Carl shared their harrowing experience with each other. They had been convinced we were going to die before we even landed. “It was like a scene from a disaster movie,” one of them said. “I thought we were done for.”
They were taken aback when they realized that I had no idea about what had occurred with our plane during the landing preparations. One of them said to me, “Didn't you hear the pilot’s announcement about the difficulties we faced due to an engine problem? We circled in the air for about twenty minutes. Were you asleep at that time?”
They were astonished to hear that I hadn’t paid much attention to the pilot’s announcement. Instead, I was fully engrossed in enjoyable conversation and camaraderie with my seatmate. We shared snacks, drinks, and engaged in conversation throughout the entire flight. Or it could be that my ears were plugged from listening to a downloaded song on my seatmate's device while the pilot was making the announcement.
During the car ride back home, Paul couldn’t resist teasing me about my carefree attitude. “Didn’t you watch the news on the flight to RDU, Lily?” he asked.
“What news?” I inquired.
The two men seated in the front chuckled. “There were reports of terrorism activities taking place at JFK airport. One terrorist was apprehended, and the authorities were searching for his accomplices and the checked-in luggage containing bombs. It was unclear how many bombs were present at the airport or if any had already been loaded onto departing planes.”
“I had been napping,” I replied. “So, what happened in the end? Did the police located the bombs?”
My bosses erupted into laughter once again, their amusement resonating. “Oh, Lily, I wish I could be as carefree as you,” one of them exclaimed. “The police did discover a bomb on a plane that was about to depart.”
#
The next morning, my office buzzed with activity as visitors streamed in one after another. First, a young creative designer discreetly entered my office, leaning close as if sharing a confidential secret. “Lily, what exactly happened to Paul in China? I overheard whispers of him being subjected to unimaginable torture, claiming it was a result of his karma. Did you have a hand in this?”
Soon after, the company’s founder made an appearance, praising me for taking charge during the intense auto rickshaw chase. Following suit were the CFO and the Vice President of Sales, both treating me as if I were a hero.
As the day unfolded, I realized that my willingness to take risks had earned the respect and admiration of my colleagues. Their support reinforced my belief in the power of perseverance and the ability to rise above challenging circumstances. I cherished the bonds I had forged with my teammates. As the doors closed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that I had made a difference in the lives of those around me and, ultimately, in my own journey.
