Joel Montgomery
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Day 4: Back to My Beginnings
Today, I moved into my permanent housing, which is in the home of a mother and daughter who live near the center of the city. After negotiating the price earlier in the day, I brought all of my belongings to the windowless cement room with high ceilings and green walls. The stifling heat makes a high-powered fan a necessity. The two women that are hosting me are incredibly hospitable. This evening, the mother, Maria, has popped into my room around 10 times bringing with her little things to make the room more a home. “Here’s some shampoo,” “Here’s some medicine for headaches,” “Here’s some juice,” “Here’s a table,” Here are some bananas.” As part of the negotiated price, breakfast and dinner are included. When Maria asked me what I liked for breakfast, I told her that I usually just ate some cereal and juice. 10 minutes later, she entered the room with some baby cereal. Hmmmmmm… not exactly what I was expecting, but hey, I’ll try it.
Joel Montgomery
Joel Montgomery
Day 3: Protests & Football
My day changed from ordinary to extraordinary at noon today when I began to hear a lot of noise outside the second story window of our office. The building, which is owned by the municipality, houses a number of non-profits, government programs, and businesses. As I peeked my head out the window I noticed a mass of people carrying bright banners and chanting at the entrance to the building. One banner showed a shark breaching the water with a small seal in its mouth. Underneath the shark was the name of a well-known brand of flour, “Maseca,” while the seal’s caption was, “Tortilleria Sabrosa,” a local company that made tortillas that must have been put out of business. The rest of the banner was quite explicit in its condemnation of CAFTA-DR, the Central American Free Trade Agreement. The police were standing by at a distance but did not directly engage the peaceful protesters. As we left for lunch, the building was under lockdown, with armed guards manning the entrances. Upon returning from lunch, all that remained from the swarm of people were a few signs haphazardly thrown on the ground.
Later in the evening, Jesus and Ami Noel took me to the Maratón, which in Spanish means marathon. What I soon found out was that we were not going to a marathon at all, but the soccer stadium to watch the local team, Maratón, play against Ceiba’s team, Vida. As we approached the stadium, there was garbage strewn on the walkway and grass growing in the bowl that once was a fountain. Approaching the gate, I felt more like I was attending a high school football game instead of a local soccer match of a city of 800,000. The tickets were small pieces of blue paper that cost 50 lempiras each, or about $2.50. Just before we reached the steps of the stadium, a number of food vendors were hawking everything from steak and beer to tortilla chips and snow cones. With every step we took toward the innards of the stadium, the beat of a drum got louder and louder. At the top, we got our first glimpse of the green grass and few thousand spectators who had gathered for the event. Taking our seats, we watched the local team struggle against its red-jerseyed countrymen, who gained an early lead because of a penalty kick.
Throughout the game there was a flurry of sales men and women who would come by offering a variety of tasty treats. Some of the sales people were as young as five or six. Off to the left of where we were seated was a mosh pit of sorts where the craziest of local aficionados resided. They would climb up the large fence that separated the fans from the field and hoot, holler, and rant at the top. At one point in the match, they ignited three green flares (green is the team color) and held them at the top of the fence to help cheer their team on to a goal. Finally in the last few moments of the game, Maratón scored, followed by an eruption of celebration from all the fans. Our common plight resulted in immediate friendship as hugs and high fives were exchanged by all.
Joel Montgomery
Later in the evening, Jesus and Ami Noel took me to the Maratón, which in Spanish means marathon. What I soon found out was that we were not going to a marathon at all, but the soccer stadium to watch the local team, Maratón, play against Ceiba’s team, Vida. As we approached the stadium, there was garbage strewn on the walkway and grass growing in the bowl that once was a fountain. Approaching the gate, I felt more like I was attending a high school football game instead of a local soccer match of a city of 800,000. The tickets were small pieces of blue paper that cost 50 lempiras each, or about $2.50. Just before we reached the steps of the stadium, a number of food vendors were hawking everything from steak and beer to tortilla chips and snow cones. With every step we took toward the innards of the stadium, the beat of a drum got louder and louder. At the top, we got our first glimpse of the green grass and few thousand spectators who had gathered for the event. Taking our seats, we watched the local team struggle against its red-jerseyed countrymen, who gained an early lead because of a penalty kick.
Throughout the game there was a flurry of sales men and women who would come by offering a variety of tasty treats. Some of the sales people were as young as five or six. Off to the left of where we were seated was a mosh pit of sorts where the craziest of local aficionados resided. They would climb up the large fence that separated the fans from the field and hoot, holler, and rant at the top. At one point in the match, they ignited three green flares (green is the team color) and held them at the top of the fence to help cheer their team on to a goal. Finally in the last few moments of the game, Maratón scored, followed by an eruption of celebration from all the fans. Our common plight resulted in immediate friendship as hugs and high fives were exchanged by all.
Joel Montgomery
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Day 2: There is Much to Learn from Hondurans
This morning, Jesus picked me up and brought me to his house to eat breakfast. He has been incredibly accommodating and hospitable since my arrival. Southern hospitality doesn’t compare to the genuineness of Latin America. Most Southerners would hate to have a relative stranger come to their house for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but Jesus and his family have treated me as one of them. What an honor and a blessing.
At work, I am continuing my study of CJM by conducting interviews, reading the business plan, and observing what happens in the office. The environment does not feel like a work environment, which in some instances could indeed be an advantage, but in this particular case, I feel it is too informal. I listened in on one of Jovel’s sales calls and was shocked to hear him ask the client if she could send him a copy of the quote that CJM had given her. I told him that they needed to develop a process for keeping track of all their customers. I also told him that in my opinion, he should not receive commission for selling projects that were below the actual cost of the service. While, he is quite passionate and has the makings for being a good salesman, Jovel needs to work a bit on his professionalism. That being said, he has been incredibly open to constructive feedback and admits when he is wrong. It has been exciting to see his light bulb turn on several times during the last couple of days.
At lunch, the group took me to eat Arroz Chino, a local specialty. Over our meal, we discussed the huge presence of the maquiladoras, or foreign-owned factories that dot the North. While the salaries are better than what people make in rural areas, it is still quite exploitative. According to my friends, workers work four days each week in shifts of 12 hours. Unlike what has occurred in China and other countries traditionally known for cheap labor, Hondurans have not left factories in order to pursue education. As a result, there is incredible demand for factory jobs, which has kept the cost of labor quite low. If only China’s 15% increase in salaries could happen here. The average Honduran worker only makes around $300 per month.
I must admit that my first inclination toward CJM was that it was not a good idea. Now that I have gained a bit more information, I am convinced that the idea of offering multiple technical services is a good one, especially given the social focus of CJM. As they say, the devil is in the details and poor implementation is what is killing the bottom line.
On a personal note, I am really enjoying living in Latin America once more. I feel much more relaxed simply by being in an environment of patient people. This evening, the electricity went out in Colonia Buena Vista, but instead of pitching a fit, most people came out of their homes into the street. I met two of my neighbors who were also passing the time outside their home. Life in the US is so much more confined. By in large, people stick to themselves and stay within their house in their yard. Here in San Pedro Sula, on the other hand, people are constantly interacting with one another, whether it is to buy some last minute items from the local pulperia or speaking to the armed youth who is guarding the entrance to the neighborhood. There is much to learn from this supposed developing country.
Joel Montgomery
At work, I am continuing my study of CJM by conducting interviews, reading the business plan, and observing what happens in the office. The environment does not feel like a work environment, which in some instances could indeed be an advantage, but in this particular case, I feel it is too informal. I listened in on one of Jovel’s sales calls and was shocked to hear him ask the client if she could send him a copy of the quote that CJM had given her. I told him that they needed to develop a process for keeping track of all their customers. I also told him that in my opinion, he should not receive commission for selling projects that were below the actual cost of the service. While, he is quite passionate and has the makings for being a good salesman, Jovel needs to work a bit on his professionalism. That being said, he has been incredibly open to constructive feedback and admits when he is wrong. It has been exciting to see his light bulb turn on several times during the last couple of days.
At lunch, the group took me to eat Arroz Chino, a local specialty. Over our meal, we discussed the huge presence of the maquiladoras, or foreign-owned factories that dot the North. While the salaries are better than what people make in rural areas, it is still quite exploitative. According to my friends, workers work four days each week in shifts of 12 hours. Unlike what has occurred in China and other countries traditionally known for cheap labor, Hondurans have not left factories in order to pursue education. As a result, there is incredible demand for factory jobs, which has kept the cost of labor quite low. If only China’s 15% increase in salaries could happen here. The average Honduran worker only makes around $300 per month.
I must admit that my first inclination toward CJM was that it was not a good idea. Now that I have gained a bit more information, I am convinced that the idea of offering multiple technical services is a good one, especially given the social focus of CJM. As they say, the devil is in the details and poor implementation is what is killing the bottom line.
On a personal note, I am really enjoying living in Latin America once more. I feel much more relaxed simply by being in an environment of patient people. This evening, the electricity went out in Colonia Buena Vista, but instead of pitching a fit, most people came out of their homes into the street. I met two of my neighbors who were also passing the time outside their home. Life in the US is so much more confined. By in large, people stick to themselves and stay within their house in their yard. Here in San Pedro Sula, on the other hand, people are constantly interacting with one another, whether it is to buy some last minute items from the local pulperia or speaking to the armed youth who is guarding the entrance to the neighborhood. There is much to learn from this supposed developing country.
Joel Montgomery
Social Entrepreneurship in Honduras
As part of a program with MBAs Without Borders, I have traveled to San Pedro Sula, Honduras to work with an organization that is trying to help former gang members reintegrate into society through training and job placement. The basic idea is to have a company that offers a one-stop-shop for a variety of technical skills, including painting, air conditioning repair, office cleaning, fumigation, etc. The majority of laborers are former gang members.
As soon as I arrived to Cooperativa Juvenil Multiservicios’ (CJM) office, we had a meeting discussing expectations along with what I should do during the time I’m here. During most of the meeting, I just listened. Towards the end, I shared my point of view, especially since I hope to enable them to step out of their focus on the day-to-day elements of the business and focus more on the big picture. I hope we might start by looking at what the goal is of the organization and then work our way down from there.
After our meeting, I sat with Javier, who is one of the former gang members who is currently working with CJM. He immediately began to give me a sense for what the situation was really like. The more he spoke, the more I began to doubt the organization’s effectiveness. Unfortunately, he was the only member of CJM’s team to participate in Technoserve’s business plan competition. It has obviously made a deep impression on him and made him see where the organization is not properly acting as a business. Unfortunately, he will be leaving this week, but he has a dream to build his own Graphic Arts business.
During the afternoon, I continued to interview people and begin to put the pieces together. The reality has already become quite clear and it’s just my first day. Around 4:30pm, Jovel returned from his sales meetings and he, Javier, and I began to discuss some issues that had come to my attention. One of the most important issues that I found out was that the eight former gang members that are receiving scholarships to study are receiving their schooling and a monthly living allowance for free. Despite the fact that these students only attend classes from 7:20pm – 8:45pm, they have resisted CJM’s requests to work on projects, blaming the fact that they were busy or that the work did not fit into their areas of expertise. I told Jovel that this program was a wasted opportunity as these young men could be the key to bringing some technical expertise to other members of the group, but unfortunately, they have not shown much interest in involving themselves. For me, the key to sustainability of this organization and ultimately to the recovery of these students lies in a fundamental shift in their attitude, which is quite an enormous challenge.
Joel Montgomery
As soon as I arrived to Cooperativa Juvenil Multiservicios’ (CJM) office, we had a meeting discussing expectations along with what I should do during the time I’m here. During most of the meeting, I just listened. Towards the end, I shared my point of view, especially since I hope to enable them to step out of their focus on the day-to-day elements of the business and focus more on the big picture. I hope we might start by looking at what the goal is of the organization and then work our way down from there.
After our meeting, I sat with Javier, who is one of the former gang members who is currently working with CJM. He immediately began to give me a sense for what the situation was really like. The more he spoke, the more I began to doubt the organization’s effectiveness. Unfortunately, he was the only member of CJM’s team to participate in Technoserve’s business plan competition. It has obviously made a deep impression on him and made him see where the organization is not properly acting as a business. Unfortunately, he will be leaving this week, but he has a dream to build his own Graphic Arts business.
During the afternoon, I continued to interview people and begin to put the pieces together. The reality has already become quite clear and it’s just my first day. Around 4:30pm, Jovel returned from his sales meetings and he, Javier, and I began to discuss some issues that had come to my attention. One of the most important issues that I found out was that the eight former gang members that are receiving scholarships to study are receiving their schooling and a monthly living allowance for free. Despite the fact that these students only attend classes from 7:20pm – 8:45pm, they have resisted CJM’s requests to work on projects, blaming the fact that they were busy or that the work did not fit into their areas of expertise. I told Jovel that this program was a wasted opportunity as these young men could be the key to bringing some technical expertise to other members of the group, but unfortunately, they have not shown much interest in involving themselves. For me, the key to sustainability of this organization and ultimately to the recovery of these students lies in a fundamental shift in their attitude, which is quite an enormous challenge.
Joel Montgomery
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Mysteries of China
Culture is an incredible thing. It shapes who we are and how we see the world. As a second year MBA student at Thunderbird School of Global Management, I feel truly blessed to be surrounded with people from around the world. By living, working, and playing with these people, I have come to build some incredible friendships. One of my favorite experiences at Thunderbird occurs when I learn something new about a friend's culture. I treasure those moments as I feel I have gained a unique insight into my friend's background.
Not too long ago, I needed to get a document signed by several of my classmates. Given the incredible cultural diversity of Thunderbird, I found myself speaking with several of my Chinese classmates. I gave my first friend the piece of paper and a pen to sign. My friend placed the pen on the table and signed with his own pen. My second and third friends did the same. At this point in time, I knew that something was going on that I did not understand. I asked my friends why they had not signed with my pen and they responded that in China, it is unlucky to sign one's name in red ink. How interesting!
I just read a great WallStreet Journal article about a Thunderbird professor who recently made a cultural blunder in China. I do not want to give away the story, but my favorite part of the article is at the end when Professor Goddard's Chinese colleagues respect him by each giving him a penny. Please read the article... WallStreet Journal
Joel Montgomery
Not too long ago, I needed to get a document signed by several of my classmates. Given the incredible cultural diversity of Thunderbird, I found myself speaking with several of my Chinese classmates. I gave my first friend the piece of paper and a pen to sign. My friend placed the pen on the table and signed with his own pen. My second and third friends did the same. At this point in time, I knew that something was going on that I did not understand. I asked my friends why they had not signed with my pen and they responded that in China, it is unlucky to sign one's name in red ink. How interesting!
I just read a great WallStreet Journal article about a Thunderbird professor who recently made a cultural blunder in China. I do not want to give away the story, but my favorite part of the article is at the end when Professor Goddard's Chinese colleagues respect him by each giving him a penny. Please read the article... Joel Montgomery
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Take a Balloon to Mars (Turkey)
The peaceful darkness of the cave hotel was broken by the harsh sounds of the alarm, beckoning me to rise from my deep slumber. My eyes opened but were unable to see anything until I stumbled to the lights in the bathroom. At 5:00am, I waited in the coolness of the early morning when the first call to prayer began at a nearby mosque. The echoed tune had an eerie tone as it bounced off the rock faces around me. I arrived at the lift off area and noticed the blackness towards the east starting to transform into pinks and purples. Multicolored balloons quickly followed the path from infancy to full-blown adulthood as their bellies filled with hot air. Our balloon floated just above our heads, yet lacked the strength to lift all 14 passengers. The pilot unleashed six-foot flames from the nozzles in the center of the balloon in order to heat the air and yet the sphere seemed determined to stay earthbound. Finally, the balloon relented and we traveled mere inches above the dewed-covered soil. Inches turned into feet and feet turned into yards and yards compounded so much so that the cars below turned into the Hot Wheels of my childhood. We were airborne over 2,000 feet above the Martian landscape of Cappadocia, Turkey. Below I could see the Fairy Houses with their teepees casting strange shadows in the early morning light. Our pilot descended deep into a canyon and we passed numerous Pigeon houses that had been hollowed out long ago to facilitate the collection of
“natural fertilizer.” Thousands of years ago, a huge volcanic explosion endowed the area of Cappadocia with the necessary volcanic ash required to form the most unique rock formations I have ever witnessed. The shapes seemed to have been a gift from God, immune from the forces of nature. How could erosion create such masterpieces?
After an hour and a half of exploring the bizarre Turkish landscape, our pilot initiated the balloon landing procedure, which simply consisted of gliding along in the wind until a suitable flat area was found. Unfortunately, the wind did not want to cooperate and our gliding turned to crawling. Now that it was airborne, the balloon no longer wanted to return to Earth. Finally, we found a suitable spot in a farmer’s field just outside of Göreme. The pilot dropped a line and several workers from the tour company dragged us to an open area. We slowly descended, yards turning into feet and feet turning into inches. I was selected to join the crew and help tame the balloon. We lifted it unto a trailer and joined the passengers in the basket as they tried to force one particularly stubborn corner into place. With the basket secured, our next step was to pull down the proud balloon. We grabbed a rope that connected to the top of the balloon and pulled. The balloon fought back but without the continued supply of hot air that formed its lifeblood, the sphere could only postpone the inevitable. With all passengers on firm ground, we toasted our flight over the Martian land with glasses of champagne.
Joel Montgomery
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Cons & Cars Part II (Turkey)
As I pass through the automatic toll on my way to work, a loud buzzer warns me that my transmitter didn’t register. I must have been driving a little too fast through the toll. I continue my commute through Asia and thank God that I am not five feet to my left on the other side of the barrier where thousands of people are sitting, waiting to cross the bridge onto the European side of Istanbul. As the collection of European cars and an occasional Ford travel North with me, we engage in a dance of which I have become all too familiar. A speedy Mercedes quickly makes up the distance between my rear and his front bumper. He signals his desire to continue forward at a faster pace than I am going and I oblige by quickly moving into the middle lane. A few minutes later it is my turn to flick my lights as a red Renault creeps up a hill. This dance continues at all hours of the day on Turkish motorways. After passing the Renault, I arrive at the second toll of my journey and am surprised when the angry buzzer yells at me for a second time. Now, this is not normal. My fingers make their way behind the rearview mirror but are saddened when they are unable to find the goal of their pursuit. My transmitter has suddenly disappeared. Has Houdini come back from the dead to posses my innocent black Opel? Soon, my thoughts turn to the seedy parking lot attendants that I have grown to loathe. It has to be them. I continue on my journey trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, the transmitter has fallen down somewhere in the car. As I pull into work, I quickly do a search in the car, trying to find this little white box that I have taken for granted all summer. As I peer under the seat of the car, I do not find the transmitter but another clue in the mystery that envelops my morning. I find a sack full of food wrappers, including two discarded Ayran containers. Aha!!! Further evidence supporting my theory that someone has indeed entered the car and stolen my transmitter. I share the news with my boss and we return to the dilemma that has plagued us since the first incident with these crooks… there is no other parking lot near where I live. The only other option is to try and park on the street, which is even more of a crapshoot. Begrudgingly, we arise at the conclusion that we must continue to deal with these dishonest folk for another 15 days when my contract expires.
The next morning as I walk towards the parking lot, I get a sense that Houdini has moved on and decided to let me be. As I expected, the transmitter magically reappeared overnight. I call my boss and he responds with a traditional Turkish saying. “God makes you lose and find your donkey.” Certainly, you value even the most invaluable items once you have rescued them from being lost.
Joel Montgomery
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