This is awkward.
We’re in Dalat, Vietnam for now. We’re staying in a very pleasant hotel that provides a “free” breakfast. I love the “free” breakfast, even though I understand that it isn’t actually “free.” I get it, but at $40 per night for this giant, clean, beautifully furnished, brand-new room on the main street, it feels pretty “free.”
I just got back from day two of the “free” breakfast, and it was awkward. Not as awkward as yesterday, but awkward nonetheless.
The awkwardness starts with the need for the receptionist to walk me over to the breakfast spot and hand me off to the woman running the restaurant. Okay, fine. Now, I’m in the restaurant and not sure where to go as there’s a buffet plus a cooking area, and there are a dozen women bustling nearby serving me and others. It’s a bit overwhelming to me, especially before coffee.
It’s noisy and crowded, and there’s little English being spoken outside of the scripted interactions that repeat with each English-speaking guest.
I navigate the ordering of an omelet, and the questions start. “Drink?” “Coffee, please.” “Milk coffee?” “Yes, milk please.” “Fresh or condensed?” “Condensed.” And we’re done. I turn to find a seat, and the place is packed. The tables are big round tables that accommodate at least 10 people. I find an empty one and sit.
A few minutes later, my omelet and coffee show up. I’m good. That’s really all I need. “Baguette or toast?” she asks. It’s easier to say “baguette” than to give “I’ll pass on bread today” a try given the language/translation issue that will cause. The baguette arrives promptly, and I read the New York Times on my iPhone. Life is good.
It takes me about 10 minutes to finish. I’m not dawdling, as I know I need to sit down and write to you, so I’m chewing, drinking, reading, and wrapping things up. I stand, head for the door, and am pretty pleased with myself for navigating breakfast.
And, just as I get to the door, one of the young women comes rushing up. “I have your (indecipherable).” “What?” I say as I hold my hand behind my ear (I do this gesture frequently). “Your (indecipherable),” she says again. “Ah, okay, thanks,” I say and stand and wait. A moment later, she returns with my yogurt, a napkin, and a tiny spoon. I thank her and leave.
Why yogurt? I have no idea. The French influence I suppose. I really have no idea.
It was awkward. I had no idea how things work, what to expect, how to behave, where to stand, sit, etc. I’m watching people and trying to follow the rules, but the rules aren’t clear. Awkward is how it feels.
Your Clients Are Also Strangers in a Strange Land
And that’s exactly what it’s like for your clients. It’s awkward when they call. It’s awkward when they come to the office. It’s awkward with the receptionist. It’s awkward with you. It’s awkward when they attend a deposition. It’s awkward when they go to court. It’s awkward at every stage of the process. And you don’t even force them to take a yogurt.
Interacting with lawyers isn’t something your clients do every day. Legalese is a foreign language. Your office is as foreign to your clients as Dalat, Vietnam is to me.
The antidote to awkward is guidance, instruction, and warning. The antidote comes from understanding their awkwardness and anticipating the moments when they’ll need advance notice of what’s coming and what to do next. The antidote comes from you better understanding what it looks like and feels like from their perspective and point of view.
In Vietnam, I’m a foreigner. I’m a foreigner in your office as well. What are you doing to make it less awkward? How are you making your clients more comfortable?
