It’s 4 am as the cicadas chirp in the wet grass and all is momentarily quieter in the village and our factory. It’s interesting times as we spiral through Depression 2.0 and work to keep businesses moving, hiring, and financed. In an effort to streamline and become more efficient (or die economically) I terminated our Managing Director (MD) four days ago. As a retired big city official; who’s previous boss was executed for corruption, he’s a dangerous adversary to have in the countryside/village. The next day his eight relatives; who work for us, staged a strike at our factory and his other relatives starting showing up demanding payment for materials sold to us on terms. AS the police arrived (we called) I found it interesting
civilians can scream at police in China and actually not get arrested. Compare that to the police in the Land of the Free and the Brave and ask that black professor who was recently arrested on his front porch for being no doubt belligerent to a cop. As the supplier screamed her story to the police we finally exited her from the office leaving her big brother to calmly discuss a solution. Everyone sat calmly and chain smoked and drank hot tea on a hot steamy day. All was well in the entrepreneurial world.
The next day MD called and threatened our new Manager, a younger but tough college educated farm girl. Seemingly unperturbed she calmly related his threats while making suggestions of how to continue to increase production of our Mad Bomber hats (www.madbomber.com), increase wages rationally (50%), double shifts with less management,
and parlay our planned contribution to the new playground on the school next door into a matching fund with local government.
As I ran through the village mud the next morning; training for a 50 mile trail race in Virginia, I pondered the interesting facets of our tough business associates and partners as well as the average Chinese and recalled the early days of the 1980’s when the same Chinese could be ruthless officially but kind and generous at home. Up ahead bleeted a heard of goats my way driven by an old goat herder. I asked him in Chinese are the goats for eating or milk? He misunderstood; or I again massacred the language, and instantly invited me into his home for breakfast.
It’s 5 am now and time for work, hot tea, chain smoking, endless discussions before decisions, and another day of production with the mystery of what may be ahead.

never a dull moment,
the Mad Bomber
aka
Brent Reynolds