A question that hangs around in the air here is, "What are you going to do after Cambodia?" For most ex-pats, living here is a placeholder for a
real ambition. There are exceptions, of course; The old men who retired here to find young wives who can live like kings on their Social Security checks; the couple who was born oceans apart, fell in love and built a business. The fugitive who skipped town whilst on bail.
For the most part, however, whether you're here 10 days or 10 years, you will reach your Cambodian expiration date and go on to a new adventure.
A few weeks ago, my friend Robin and I were trying to figure out if anyone we know is first world qualified to do their Cambodian jobs. Lee, who is the most capable person I know, even says that he can run a business here but has no desire to back in England. So what happens to people when they create a home in a small beach town over several years, then decide to move?
I said that it's all about how you break down your experience. Any Joe Schmo with a few grand can open a bar here, but a small percentage of those people are successful. Still, can they go back home and say they ran a successful business here without anyone knowing the wiser?
It becomes painfully obvious who knows what they're doing and who doesn't. It's all well and good to say "I own a restaurant," but when your first world interviewer asks you very specific questions about accounting procedures (which are done entirely analog), human resource management (with unheard of turnover), and marketing (go to the bus station and hand out as many fliers as possible), your fantasy job as a Cambodian business mogul looks no more impressive than a child's lemonade stand that uses a Country Time mix instead of fresh lemon juice.
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I'm looking for ballpoint needles. Do you have them?
Do you know what they are? Where am I? |
It comes down to the fact that doing business in Cambodia is grinding. For example, if I need to restock all of my sewing hardware, I can't pop down to Jo-Ann's or even go to the online store that sells wholesale. There are no superstores here, and shipping anything will cost more than the items you're buying. I wait until we go to Phnom Penh and find two hours where I can sit on the back of a moto and hold on for dear life as the driver navigates the roads to find the zipper store, the twill stall, the linen lady, and hopefully some place near by the sells a seam ripper.
Imagine how my world changed when I went back home for a month and visited Mood Fabrics in New York. Everything was there. I took two trains, walked a few blocks, hopped in an elevator (with an elevator attendant (what?!)) and found myself in the promise land.
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| Mood Fabrics NYC via my sister |
Running a successful business in Cambodia is like the baseball batter who puts weights on his bat before he steps up to the plate. You do a few practice swings with two extra kilos so your arms suddenly feel lighter when that perfect pitch comes your way. Cambodia is the weights. The first world is being at-bat.
When we go back home and interviewers asks us how our experience in Cambodia relates to what you're trying to do in the first world, laugh in their faces and tell them the weights are off and you're ready to hit it out of the park.
