Whenever I tell someone that I speak Chinese, I get the usual chorus of “oohs” and “aahs,” and the occasional demand to say “I like to eat hamburgers” in Mandarin. More importantly, ever since I learned how to say chopsticks and read “fried rice” on a menu, every adult has told me that I’m set, because I have Chinese under my belt and will have no trouble finding a job.
In a country where kindergartners get gold stars for “expressing themselves,” my fellow Americans created a bubble of security for how I felt about my future. With all of this praise for being able to order at my local Chinese restaurant, I figured Chinese CEOs would be lining my doorstep as soon as I flung my graduation cap into the sky. Last summer, I spent one week in Beijing on my way to Vietnam with my mother. While there, that rosy construct was reduced to rubble. I quickly saw my golden career path of corporate Chinese success decay into competing with qualified Chinese high schoolers for underpaid, if not unpaid, internships.
With the Chinese education system pumping out amazing test-takers who are fluent in Chinese and have passable, if not excellent, English, I quickly found my own value to the workforce disappearing. Speaking Chinese was my selling point in the U.S. But in China, it would simply earn me a pat on the back, where my Chinese peers, dare I say competitors, would quickly outshine me. I thought of all the thousands of flashcards I had made bearing vocabulary ranging from goofy chengyu, Chinese idioms, to “state-run enterprise,” and felt supremely disappointed.
Don’t get me wrong; the opportunities in China are still endless. From 2000, the average income has risen from $760 per person to around $9000. The Chinese middle class represents a huge untapped market for international companies, and theoretically a surge in jobs for Americans going to China. However, the opportunity gap for Americans across the Pacific is growing slimmer. Most jobs for laowai, or foreigners, are upper-level management positions in multinational corporations that transfer established employees over from other offices. There is a small slice of entry-level positions available for foreigners, but appropriate matches are already fluent in Chinese and possess some other incredible skill—more than just my study abroad-level knowledge of French and Italian.
This is not to say that I have given up on working in China. Most of the people I met with in China told me similar things: I was going to have to improve my Chinese, to the point where I could contribute at a meeting, but that they had confidence that I would be able to find some opportunity. Some even went so far as to suggest that I simply move to Beijing, Shanghai, or Hong Kong and figure out my career upon arrival. The perfectionist in me wasn’t elated with that uncertain trajectory, but the sinophile in me rejoiced.
If I move to China, it is nearly certain that I will be scraping by on what many of my friends earn as a stipend. It is probable that I will be tossed to and fro in the bustle and insanity of the Beijing metro. It is also highly likely that after a few years, I will return to the U.S., but when I do, I’ll be all the better for it. Not only am I unwilling to see eight years of learning an alphabet-less language go to waste, but I am confident that I will be able to have an impact in my first job in China, and my later career back in the States.
On my way back from another interview in Beijing, I spoke with the taxi driver. He was impressed, and even honored that I was learning Chinese. He told me that he often felt disrespected when Westerners came to China. Whereas he was making every effort to learn crucial English phrases, even beyond what was needed of him as a cab driver, he never got more than a weak ni hao and a mispronounced xie xie from American travelers. He thanked me for my effort, and I thanked him for boosting my somewhat shattered confidence.
Regardless of where I end up, I hope that I will show China the linguistic commitment I have made, show them the respect they deserve, and bring deeper understanding of China back to the States. Perhaps my newfound inspiration is coming from the advice of the contacts I met with in Beijing, or perhaps it is just my mother’s threats of financially cutting me off upon graduation, but I am determined to find a job across the Pacific where I can make a difference, and be made different in return.
