Back in high school, I took an accounting course that taught me the meaning of the term “FOB.”  Free On Board.  It is used to determine who pays the shipping.  When I came to San Francisco, I learned a new, and more definitive, meaning: FRESH OFF the BOAT.  New Asian immigrants.  Heavily accented.  Caricature specimens.

For my readers in the Midwest (or anywhere else lacking a significant Asian population), the acronym FOB is most often used by another subset of the Asian population: the ABC’s (American Born Chinese).  We use the term FOB, often in a pejorative sense, to describe our brothers and sister who look like us, yet couldn’t be stranger than if they came from Mars.

I suppose I am a hybrid of sorts: I wasn’t born here, but I grew up here starting from the 3^rd grade.  I’m a FOB/ABC.  I have one heel planted in each culture. 

I started a new job this week as a filing clerk.  The files consisted mostly of Chinese and English documents.  I was hired as a Chinese reader; I got paid a little bit more. 

But I had to work with some major FOB’s.  You know how I write a lot about how Chinese I am?  Well, the truth is that I am very American Chinese.  I worked with my FOB cousins for a mere 5 hours before I realized…

I.  Don’t.  Really.  Like.  Chinese.  People.

Reuben says we dislike in others what we really hate in ourselves.  At the end of the day, it’s our own issues that we project onto other people.  I guess I’m ambivalent about being Chinese.  I understand what it’s like to be Chinese.  I know the language.  I know the thought process.  I carry the DNA.

But do we have to be so uncouth?

Because we were asked to work overtime, the company graciously offered us complimentary dinners.  No one loves food more than Cassandra.  But even I know that on the first day of work you at least have to put on the appearance of being consumed by the task at hand.  It’s not becoming to seem preoccupied with the freebie perks.  You either keep your mouth shut or you ask intelligent questions. 

What you *don’t* do is harp on the limit of the dinner stipend.  Or which dining establishments you may order from.  Or whether if you can keep the stipend if you bring your dinner from home.

When the Chinese lady asked this last question I was so ashamed to be Chinese and sitting next to her.  

Old Lady FOB actually had the nerve to ask the supervisor if she could surf the web for other employment opportunities (like Craigslist) when using the company computers.  Old Lady FOB then took it upon herself to explain that other job sites don’t usually allow for this.  She said this quite indignantly, as if the supervisor would understand immediately how unreasonable these other workplaces were.  Apparently, she doesn’t understand WHY it’s not an acceptable practice.

Do you feel me?  Are you ever ashamed of your people? 

There were two Caucasian file clerks in the group.  Since they were filing only English documents it is assumed that they would be paid less.  There is a premium to being fluent in a second language.

But, if everyone already knows this, why state the obvious?

Why must Old Lady FOB ask the “American” file clerk, how much do you get paid?

She received a response that was polite, yet left no doubt as to the inappropriateness of the question: I don’t feel comfortable discussing it.  How much do YOU get paid, the American reviewer countered.

Old Lady FOB didn’t respond.  The entire room was awkwardly silent after that.

I don’t think Old Lady FOB is a bad person.  She’s just very Chinese.  Extremely competitive with her peers.  Show-offish.  She gives off a very, “me, me, me — it’s all about me” vibe.  Universal traits, to be sure.  But she doesn’t know, and doesn’t seem to care, that there is a different way to do things in America. 

Instead, she makes all the rest of us look like jackasses, with no tact and extremely bad manners.

I know all this, but I don’t have the balls to pull aside Old Lady FOB and tell her.

She reminds me too much of my mom.

Tags: race