People respond to incentives, said Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner of Freakonomics and SuperFreakonomics. How does a company incentivize people to stay loyal and align with the company’s goals? A Chinese company figured this out. This unique system is probably worth a Harvard MBA case.

Selected employees may participate an aggressive profit-sharing program that yields, sometime, several times the base salary. This program is the goose that lays golden eggs: it keeps on paying out as long as the person stayed employed. But it is structured as an investment: employees must first put in their own money and wait for the returns to come later — typically 7 to 8 years for it to really blossom.

Predictably, new employees work their asses off to get invited to this program. In less than 10 years, they would be starting to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. If they manage to climb the corporate ladder, they would enter the senior rank and become really wealthy. As long as they stay employed by the company, the checks keep on coming. The top executives knew that all worthy employees want the same thing: profitability for the company. Since as long as the company makes money, everyone get rich. This works beautifully.

But it smells like a ponzi scheme. In essence, the new employees’ hardwork pays for those who are already in the club. A prospect recruit faces a last fool gambit. Can he rise to the cruising level fast enough before the pyramid collapse? The current club members, usually senior with authority, have the incentive to drive new comers harder ever.

Senior outsiders find it hard to join the company. They have proven themselves elsewhere and expect to enjoy similar compensation as their peers; not waiting years for the investment to mature. Conversely, those who worked their way up would resent the new comer that has a free ride. This system, therefore, repels external senior talents.

Like a ponzi scheme, it needs a constant infusion of new blood that, in turn, needs continued growth. This will end one day. But, for now, the last fool has not arrived yet. The bust of the bubble would be someone else’s problem.

The best way to come in town is via the Link Light Rail system, if you can drag your luggage through about 600 meters or so paved and sheltered path. That’s less than half a mile.

After you get leave the secure area, you need to find one of the sky bridges across the road to the parking lot. If you have luggage, that will be one level up after getting them. After passing through the sky bridge, look for a sign “Link Light Rail.” It should point left.

There are six sky bridges forming the spokes and the parking lot is the hub. Follow the sign and eventually reach sky bridge number 6.

Then there is this semi-open pathway with a grill-fence on the right. You are close.

When you reach the end, there is another sky bridge like tunnel. Yes, this is the last stop. Well, almost.

Look for the ticketing kiosks. There are four, two on each side. Approach any one of them, touch the screen, and choose a station. For those going to downtown, it should be one of Pioneer Square, University Station, or Westlake. Pay with credit card or whatever ($2.50). There are two escalators, go up.

Most of the time, a train is there. Press the button on the door and it opens. Sometime, there are two trains. If you cannot figure out, there should be someone with a bright yellow jacket around.

It takes about 40 minutes to reach Westlake, the last stop. Most stops in downtown are underground. You can find an elevator or go through the escalator to find the surface. Hopefully, someone is waiting to hug you on the platform already.

Sunday, 8am, woke up hungry. The refrigerator was empty, like the rest of the apartment. I needed to feed. Internet showed the way. So I braved into Seattle’s cool morning and find Bauhaus Books and Coffee. The street sign said, “less cold than elsewhere.” Ah. Sunday morning cannot be much better than a cup of good coffee, a big and tasty muffin, and the cartoon pages of Seattle Times.

Isn’t it great that so many stores allow pets? Even Metro buses are OK with them.

I grew up surrounded by rice paddies, trees, and farm animals. When I was 10, we moved to the dazzles of a big city. I remembered the thrill when I got my first wheels, a beat-up 100cc motorcycle that was the coolest thing ever. Then I emigrated to American suburban to raise a family. Now the city seems to be calling me. This one-bedroom apartment gives me a 10-minute commute, in public transportation. I keep a pair of office shoes and change into walking boots for the road. Of course I would have a light water-resistant jacket and the iPod.

The Westlake shopping area is kind of like San Francisco’s Union Square. Down the street comes the famed Pike Place Market, a tourist attraction and a local favorite too. The labyrinth excites new explorers and makes old acquaintance at home. There is enough foot traffic for every specialty stores to thrive. Their uniqueness, in turn, brings more foot traffic.

I have liked Seattle for years but couldn’t find the reasons. I think her size is just right: large enough for standardized services and conveniences that come with the economy of scale, yet small enough for characters and charm to survive the great equalization.

Come to think of it, that describes my new gig here too.

“Stop, or I am going to fall,” I commanded my legs that had gone independent. They are moving roughly according to my will, but not exactly. I willed them to move in sync to the way my weight was shifting, yet they lagged just a bit and also took on some side-way motions. Just when I was about to gain control over my body parts, with precision timing, the ground jumped just an inch or so. So, naturally, highly un-dignified, I wiped this public concrete floor with my left face cheek.

“Geez! Are you OK?” Shari rushed over. “Did I tripped you?” asked Chris. That was a kind attempt of him to save my face. He was more than 10 feet ahead of me and could not possibly. I stood up and jogged toward the waiting gang, my ego bruised much worse than my face. Several minutes later, Jonathan, the trainer, arrived.

Shari introduced me as the new member. “Battle wound on the first day! Excellent.” Jonathan smiled broadly. “Welcome to the boot camp.” I grimaced back and made a lame joke. Everyone laughed politely.

Nerds have little defense against Shari. She is the girl that bring life to parties with smiling eyes and easy-going personality. When she asked, “Hey, do you want to…,” she gets “yes” most of the time. But Boot Camp?

It was a cold and drizzling day. We arrived Qwest stadium’s side corridor with about 7 or 8 fellow campers. The trainer was late so the senior campers started the session: warm-up followed by a series of passes up and down the corridor in different ways: lateral, skipping, hopping, etc. I was in heavy perspiration in no time.

Jonathan had us do strange, yet effective, moves without any equipment. He is not the “yell-in-your-face” drill sergeant. He demonstrated the move, told us how many repetitions, and just told us to start. He walked around the corrected our motions gently, but was always greeted with groans, “Hey, that makes it harder.” I was taking longer breaks to catch my breath and checking my watch every minute or so.

The five-minute walk back to the office was a difficult. I could hardly climb up the stairs. Of course I was ache and sore the next few days.

“So are you coming next week,” Shari checked on me the next day with a big smile. “Of course I am! I am in.” I smiled back.

Had I not live in Beijing for three years, I wouldn’t have dared to re-pot myself again. Five years ago, I had an anxiety attack on that final “one-way-trip” to Beijing with the entire family in tow. I was leaping into darkness with nothing more than a faith. The family trusted me. Should they?

Seattle’s public transportation really impressed me. The light-rail connects SeaTac to downtown (about 15 miles) in about 50 minutes, with a fare of $2.50. The whole downtown is “ride free zone,” one can jump on and off any bus, street car, or light rail, for free. The water-edge, the east shore of Elliott Bay, has a special bus that runs free all day along the Alaskan Way. Ferries come and go from the terminal near the King Street Station that has Amtrak and other rail transportation too. There is a down town tunnel that allows buses and light-rail train to traverse without other traffic interference. My commute is less than 10 minutes one way.

Speak of Seattle and pouring scene from the movie comes to mind. People thought of grey sky, wet clothes, and chilly winds. Yes, the city gave me all those during my first week, but sun showed its face most of the days. The rain did not bother me much. I was under-prepared for the cold, though.

Of course this is the Starbucks city. Within 50 paces, you are sure to spot a Starbucks, sometime more. I have been conditioned to like Peet’s but never dislike Starbucks. Honestly, Pike Place Roast is quite drinkable. It is quite nice that Starbucks defines the lowest quality here. Pretty much all coffees here are quite good. I fear that the coffee here will spoil me like Beijing’s Chinese foods. I have developed an aversion to Chinese restaurants ever since I came back. Sigh…

It is easy to be the boss in a Chinese firm. In this authoritarian civilization, everyone agrees with you and seeks your approval. What you uttered becomes gospel. People quote and obey you. It is the toughest thing to be the boss in a Chinese firm. You cannot be wrong. Ever.

Chinese have perfected this authoritarian art over about 2,500 years of practicing and try-and-error. They knew that the boss can be apprehensive at times and found ways to obtain diversity, have discussions, debate: all in somewhat a, gasp, diplomatic manner. History and classic wisdoms have both warned the difficulty of those skills — yet few middle level executives have any time to practice them.

Today’s typical Chinese firm has a cadre of menacing, abusive, tycoon, and domineering junior executives, those who manage a large organization and have slightly more than a decade of industrial experience, usually at the same firm. They are competent, smart, and driven. They fought hard and won most of their battles. They have been loyal, obedient, competent, and hard-working. What they give to their boss they want it doubly with their subordinates. They are authoritarian and like it. They crave for the big glory.

Only a superior or disruptive competitor will ruin the plan. If a new and foreign power shows up, years of hardworking will go to ruin. They are too senior to start over, the jungle is ruthless, they cannot afford the risk and must eradicate those new comers before they take roots.

Street smart, decisiveness, and guerilla-like nimbleness brought them the success today. Inspirational and diplomatic skills are critical to the next phase. But time has long passed for them to learn those softer skills. They do what every cornered beasts will: kill the new comers before they are proven superior or disruptive, even at the expense of the company. What’s the point of the company thriving without self sharing the glory?

Many wrote about different leadership styles; I found Hershey and Blanchad’s theory most straight-forward:

The “telling” style is for project lead and junior managers. Executives must migrate to other styles as they progress in their career. Heeding this will make a difference to those Chinese companies aspiring to be a global force, instead of a domestic player forever.

Before Wife woke up, I started the coffee and readied for the well planned 15-minute project. I fantasized the victory breakfast, bacon and pancake, as I was fishing for the white Teflon tape. When the J-pipe, the hooked pipe that’s directly under the sink, crumpled with a slight twist of my big and heavy wrench, I sighed and threw out the pancake dream. Put everything down, came inside from the garage, and yellowpaged local plumbers. Within minutes, Wife woke up with a “what have you done this morning” look. Three plumbers would bid for this job and I expected to shell out several hundred dollars that day.

“Now that you are here,” I shook hands with the chosen plumber in jump-suit off a well-stocked van. “Would you mind fixing my leaking faucet in the bathroom too?” He shrugged and added $25 to the estimate.

He started and I came inside. Five minutes later, I heard a groan. The pipe that goes into the wall, broke off. He needed to replace it by first sawing off for a clean cut. Had I kept going, I would not have the tool. “I sure glad that I called you,” I smirked. Half an hour later, he finished the pipe job, started testing, and found water dripping off to the floor. “Your sink is leaking,” he was not pleased. It was a cast-iron sink that weigh about a ton and was as old as this 40+ year-old house. It is a back-breaking job to replace it. He called office and scheduled himself for the next day. After that, he headed the bathroom for the leaky faucet. Should be an easy $25 to make in five minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, I heard another groan. He went back to the van for his torch. “What happened?” I do not have a torch and this has become more interesting. “Your pipe twisted off. I need to cut it off and extend it. It will take about 45 minutes.” “I sure glad that I called you,” second time I said that. He smiled back. We were now buddies.

That 45-minute project became 90 when he broke my faucet. He was now quite hungry. When I handed over my credit card, he said, “You did exactly the right thing. You started early in a day and called a pro when you are in trouble. You would have got into a much bigger trouble than I am about to charge you.”

Wife actually rewarded me a great breakfast. She was glad that I took care of the problem professionally. She knew that I would have wasted more time and money had I not called.

The morale of this story? Know when to ask for help, prepare for the unexpected, and customers do not care who solved the problem, as long as it was solved.