The Nuts and Bolts of Selling California’s Widgets

Joanne Corday Kozberg nurses a latte in a tiny coffee shop, waiting for the start of one of the last official meetings of the arduous, 21-day trade mission led by Gov. Pete Wilson that ended late last month.

Weary from an endless string of official encounters, California’s secretary of the State and Consumer Services Agency doesn’t realize it, but she’s on a roll. Earlier this week, she scored a long-sought memorandum of understanding in Beijing to harmonize construction standards with China. It has taken 15 years and a last-minute, 5:45 a.m. conference call to agree, essentially, that California nuts should fit Chinese bolts.

“But this,” she says of her upcoming parley with Shanghai housing officials, “is just exploring. Let’s see what their needs are.”

The business of selling business on an international trade mission can be exhausting, frustrating and slow. The governor’s team has been criticized both for taking expensive international trade junkets and not taking them enough. While Wilson’s official aura and his stature as a past presidential candidate are enough to open doors--he has met with presidents, prime ministers, tycoons and the king of Thailand--it’s up to the trade team to translate that access into deals.

During the course of 100 meetings in three weeks in seven countries, the governor’s delegation members have tried to be instant experts in negotiation, policy and culture, as well as California cheerleaders in places they’ve never been before. Sometimes their efforts pay off.

Kozberg is unsure what results await her as she greets the Shanghai government handler assigned to oversee her appointments. The officious aide bundles Kozberg off in a limo to the tall pink Shanghai Overseas Chinese Mansion a few blocks away. Following in a minibus are another government handler and two members of the business delegation, Margaret and John Wong, who have come along on the mission to help California companies in general--and their own businesses specifically--do more trade here.

While it isn’t unusual for business people to ride on official coattails during trade trips--President Bush and late Commerce Secretary Ron Brown both took fleets of eager executives on high-profile visits abroad--this time it seems to work the other way around.

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Margaret Wong, who visits China frequently for her trading company, McWong International Inc., not only knows Shanghai, she also knows the officials Kozberg is about to meet, and she will simultaneously play the roles of interpreter and businesswoman. She whispers terse protocol hints to Kozberg: They must defer to ritual while subtly showing their authority. Body language is important. Power is respected here; so is money. Her Chanel suit and Prada handbag aren’t just fashion items, they’re business tools in China.

After a flurry of handshakes, two-handed card exchanges and translated greetings, the California delegation takes its place on one side of a long wooden conference table. Kozberg in her red skirt and jacket is a bright contrast to the five officials lined up on the other side of the table, all in dark suits, their arms identically folded, elbows on the table, hands formally clasped. They don’t seem receptive.

Now the stage is set. The Chinese officials have the power seats, facing the panoramic picture window looking out on the Shanghai skyline spiked with dozens of construction cranes and skeletons of buildings. On the table are trays with towers of fresh strawberries and plump grapes, and lidded cups of weak jasmine tea. No one reaches for the fruit or uncovers the tea. The California delegation’s view: just the Shanghai delegation.

The housing bureau’s top official, Cai Yutian, hasn’t arrived; he’s been detained at a government meeting, a bad sign. It can be read as a snub, a signal that he doesn’t have enough power to control his own meetings or as simply a scheduling accident. After a volley of anxious mobile phone calls, Cai agrees to appear later.

And the formalities, which open every meeting, begin: “We welcome you to Shanghai . . . “ says Xiao Hongzhen, the vice chairman. “First we will give you a profile of our company.”

Then Kozberg’s rejoinder: “We thank you for having us.”

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Though Kozberg has not been with the California delegation for all 100 meetings in 21 days of travel around Asia, she is well-versed in the vocabulary of trade diplomacy: California isn’t there to “teach” China about construction techniques or earthquake-proof building materials, its representatives are there to “share their knowledge.”

She talks of “mutual benefits” and “forming relationships.” She neatly works in Tuesday’s Beijing meeting with President Jiang Zemin and his stated enthusiasm for housing reform, indirectly lending his imprimatur to the talks. So far, the response from the other side of the table is merely polite. Their arms are still crossed.

More than an hour passes while Kozberg gently probes for signs of interest. This is the time that makes the difference between a courtesy call and new commercial cooperation. How much housing is being built in Shanghai, Kozberg queries. High-rise or low-rise? Historic preservation? California is the world’s expert on that. Margaret Wong translates. John Wong, flanking Kozberg, interjects suggestions and proposes projects.

“How about a California village, built California-style by California developers?” he pipes in. “Maybe that’s something we can consider.”

“Not so fast.” Palms up, He Songquan, the housing equipment manager, takes a verbal step away from the table and starts talking about the importance of foreign financing.

But then Kozberg, remembering that a Beijing official had visited a Home Depot store in the United States and was stunned by the scope of do-it-yourself materials, says the magic words: “How about home repair?” As more people begin to buy their own homes--a new development in China where the state has held the property--they’ll want to improve them, she points out.

Xiao ponders a moment. His colleague offers this: “People in Shanghai spent about $1.25 million on interior decoration last year!”

Kozberg smiles. “Wonderful. I think we have a mutual interest here.”

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Xiao’s arms unfold. Next to him, senior engineer Gu Luzhong leans back in his chair. Conversation ricochets, with the interpreters talking over each other. Mutual interest!

Xiao, relaxed now, plucks at the fruit, nonchalantly spitting grape seeds back in the fruit tray.

“Shall we sign a memorandum of understanding or set up a task force?” he says. “Let’s do both,” says Kozberg, smiling and scribbling notes.

Just then, director Cai walks in, and the talks thud and halt.

“We welcome you to Shanghai,” says Cai, after exchanging cards.

And the formalities begin again.

At the end of the day, in the same coffee shop, Kozberg and her colleagues dissect the meeting. Although they didn’t sign a memorandum of understanding--a step that usually takes months to reach--the trade team feels that they made an unexpected breakthrough. And that’s what they came here for.

“It can be so difficult,” Kozberg says. “Sometimes you just don’t know where you’ll have common interests.”

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How now to make that meeting mean opportunities for California companies? They map out a plan: First, establish the memorandum, then convene a group of businesses who want to bring home repair to China, and then what--another trade trip?

“The challenge is follow-up,” says Julie Meier Wright, the secretary of the California Trade and Commerce Agency. “I’ve got a stack of business cards a foot high.”