Sorry for Potty Rocking
In Which I Party for a Job at a Vietnamese Toilet and Sink Company
All names have been replaced for respect and humor.
To see the collection of Instagram stories that go along with this experience, go here: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CiSn0jjJCtH/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
The Strange Series of Events Preceding this Party Interview:
Arrived in Vietnam.
Found a Cafe near our house that serves gluten-free food.
Made a friend at said cafe (she’s awesome!)
I asked this friend for work - she said I could work at the cafe.
So I met the owner.
I tried working at said cafe for 2 days, it wasn’t a good fit…
Owner of cafe introduced me to a Finnish man looking for a replacement for his current job as a brand-marketer-writer-ambassador-thingy for the “sanitary” company Viglacera.
I get coffee with Finnish man.
Finnish man is funny, nice, and helps me get an initial interview. He is now Finnish friend.
The First Interview
I show up to Viglacera tower, in a brand new tailored but itchy shirt, tailored and comfortable pants, and a pair of borrowed dress shoes.
The guy who would be my director, Boss Man, greets me quickly, then immediately apologizes and walks out, leaving me with two ladies for the interview: HR Lady and Head of Product Lady…so they ask me about my work history and then…ask me if I have any questions.
Me: wut?
Them: is that your question?
The interview ends shortly after. I leave it feeling confused, but hopeful I made a good impression. Hopefully, my one answer to their one question sufficed.
Also, the toilets they make are beautiful and highly functional. “I can be a brand-marketer-writer-ambassador-thingy for this company,” I think, still unsure of what the job actually is.
I message my would-be boss man about meeting him (I figured he could give me a more thorough interview.) The boss man invites me to be his guest at a “party.”
I message Finnish man, who says this is good. Says it will be an adventure. Also tells me the dress code is “business cool.”
And this is where things get *smacks lips* interesting. The invitation is sent to my phone and it’s all in Vietnamese. I pop it right up into my best friend, Straight up T (Google Translate), and it explains the detailed order of events beginning at 4PM, with the event ending ~9PM.
I realize this is not the Boss Man’s personal party, like a birthday event for his kid. It’s a corporate bash. A big hoo-bah. It is then that my Finnish friend explains that there will be exorbitant amounts of drinking. That’s cool with me, I said.
The Pre-Party
I return to Viglacera tower wearing the same clothes as my interview, but this time wearing my shiny, white New Balances, as Finnish Friend told me it was “business cool” dress code. 😎
Everyone else is dressed to the 9’S. Noice.
We hang out until the bus is ready to go. There’s about twelve of us. The bus has AC. I forgot my headphone dongle, so I stare out the window, listening to the cheerful Viglacera cohort speak animatedly in Vietnamese. They are aware of my presence, but barely.
I quietly sip my coconut water, preparing for a deluge of booze.
One of the ladies who interviewed me, HR woman, is there on the bus. She is my temporary handler, I discover, as I start chatting with her. She moves and sits next to me. We talk a little here and there. She shows me her family. I show her my wife and dog. It’s nice. She is now HR friend.
After passing some lovely rice paddies against a clear, hot and humid sky, (like how is the water not boiling everywhere??), we arrive in Bach Ninh. Finnish friend is there with Head of Product Lady, and so there’s more chatting and waiting. It’s only 4:30 pm and the party don’t start till…I walk in.
I mean till 5. It doesn’t start till 5 PM.
More chatting. Some coffee. Then a horrible realization as we go upstairs to where the event is.
In my head, I pictured a smallish conference room with another room for snacks and the booze deluge.
Nope. We’re here for a 500-person event show, where all the region’s Viglacera buyers roll up to get pampered and thanked gratuitously with food and rice wine.
Watching the preparations for the show, I realize that I feel underdressed and underprepared. Not only does the stage have a full floor to ceiling (like two stories high) screen setup, there are dancers, drummers, and a bonified legitimate VIGLACERA BALLAD THEME SONG.
And I thought my New Balances were nice (business cool is not cool enough), also, my wife warned me so. Darn it when the wife is right.
I digress, but not too much. Boss Man rolls up, looking suave and clean, even rocking a little soul patch. He looks at me, smiles, clasps my shoulder like a long-lost uncle, and asks if I want a tie.
Ha ha. Ha ha ha. Noice. New Balances. 😎
The Party
At this time, Finnish Friend and Boss Man are schmoozing the local TV. Something I learn about this job is that I’d most definitely be the “high-class” westerner representing the brand. In Vietnam, this sort of thing happens to lend credibility to companies. Not sure how I feel about this, but I also need a job. It’s conflicting.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Party first, ethics later.
After waiting around for another half hour, getting passed to this handler and that handler, the guests start to arrive. They get goody bags. They enter giveaways to win Transportation (motorcycles), TVs, and Toilets. Wow. It’s going to be a real shindig.
I walk around and examine the sanitary products Viglacera is showing off. I drink up the marketing material like a camel at oasis (there was nothing else to do besides smoke inside, which I did, or keep filling my hands with snacks).
ANNOUNCER VOICE™
Viglacera: Toilets reimagined. Crafted from the highest quality porcelain, then coated with our patented enamel sealant, Nano Titan™, it’s the easiest clean you’ll ever see. No more streaks or plunging squeaks. It all flushes down with the ease of a seal down a waterfall.
And it’ll flush hard, too, with the Max Vortex™ flushing system, featuring cyclone-style water dispersion at the rate of 1000 gallons per second.
Nothing, not your bowl-lining post-buffalo wild wings dump, nor your pet fish, your grandma’s dentures, potty-trained cat or child can escape the Max Vortex™.
Please do not flush anything that’s not meant to be flushed. water is not actually dispersed at the above rate, it’s hyperbole - for marketing.
Oh, oh, oh, I almost forgot to mention. During the pre-party, I meet my competitor. That’s right. These schmucks found in someone Finnish Friend didn’t know and he’s…perfect for the job. He’s worked with furniture marketing. He’s a white german, but knows Vietnamese. I’m, how you say, Finnished.
But he’s nice, so it’s chill.
When we finally head inside, I’ve rejoined Finnish Friend and we sit at a table with a bunch of Executive Dudes who I will never see again (unless I get the job, which doesn’t seem likely at this point.)
There’s lots of greeting, sitting around, more waiting, finally some water, and then KABOOM GO THE DRUMS. This giant troupe bangs on these plastic drums, but they’re not hilariously out of time with the song playing the actual drum sounds. They look like children whacking moles in a garden.
I struggle so hard not to laugh - and that’s when I notice how ridiculous it all seems. The ridiculousness monster is creeping up on me, and unlike some professional man who behaves like he needs job and would be immune to such things, I’m incredibly weak. I laughed to myself quietly.
The screen’s visuals and the sound quality are great though. My hearing loss is proof enough.
The Drinking
After many speeches, even one by my Finnish Friend who bravely goes up there and has his marketing presentation translated by Head Product Woman (this is what I’d actually do for the job, which happens to be Brand Ambassador. It was a devil getting the job description.) Then another speech where Boss Man sits in a chair with the announcer and they say stuff.
Then, the food arrives. The drinking starts.
The bevvie of choice? A pale red rice wine served out of unlabeled plastic bottles (question mark face). VERY SUSPECT, but when in Rome.
The drinking chant goes like this (Một, hai, ba, dô!). It’s followed by shaking hands and congratulations. Which I definitely don’t deserve. Especially with my (sotto voce) new balances.
But there’s a procession of people who come to drink at the table with Executive Dudes, Finnish Friend, and myself.
I rush to stuff my face with food between standing up, throwing back a shot of rice wine (it’s not bad, actually, especially when cold), and then chugging water. The food is delicious. Papaya and chicken salad. Small roasted pheasant (or duck? or quail). Beef in a rich gravy with little sweet dinner rolls. A couple things that strike me as odd, but not terrible.
And always, the drinking. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Hey, You Can Really Dance
Ha ha, it’s not over. Not by a long shot.
There begins a series of giveaway announcements, dancing shows, Viglacera Ballad singing, more giveaways, and then…the dancing.
All while drinks are still gettin’ thrown down. If I had a tie, I’d have it loosed by now.
Half of my table gets up and begins a strange hypnotic sort of awkward gyration one might call “dancing”. They move on stage to join the singer, who’s actually phenomenal. However, the effect of their dancing looks more like this…
Stuck between drinking and dancing, I decide to eschew my scruples and join the people on the stage. We get bumpin’, we get dancing. I snicker as I see my German Competitor Who is Nice not dancing. He has been schmoozing and boozing in Vietnamese, though. I’m hoping putting myself on the dance floor is what counts.
But also, buzzzzzzzzzz.
The population of dancers is 100 percent men. It’s kinda awesome actually. In the States, you’d have to pay guys a lot of money to get on a stage and dance like Bill Gates in 1995. It’s a sweaty, swanky, mess, but it’s a riot.
And the only escape from this dance floor gauntlet is to dance.
I escape the first time and drink some water, then meet some people to “network” but nobody is sober enough to do so, and drink even more wine. Then: A CONGA LINE APPEARS. By sheer gravitational energy, I’m pulled in.
Back on stage, dancing. The singer has been replaced by Bono. Not, not actual Bono, but a short lookalike of him. He has a great voice. The music gets louder, louder, until my ears ring. It’s becoming a concert.
A brief respite, more water, more giveaways, more “Một, hai, ba, dô!”
You tired for me, yet?
They bring out two DJ’s, some dancing girls, and the place gets BUMPING FOR REAL LIKE OH MY GOODNESS I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK.
I untuck my shirt, stand, and whisper, “once more, into the breach.”
Some Indeterminate Time Later
I escape the dance floor for more water and have to scavenge it from other tables. Something’s off, and it’s not my sense of direction or a feeling of nausea (I kept pleasantly buzzed, but not drunk, thank you). It’s the room. It’s empty but for the dancing Executive Dudes. The people who Viglacera threw the party for had already left. Like what? It’s suddenly a ghost town.
I was with the last of the partiers. And if you’ve ever been to the end of the party, you know that some people don’t want it to end. Ever.
I’m dragged back on stage. These men are getting VERY firm with their grip, and VERY focused with their eye contact. I had NEVER danced while staring deep into another man’s eyes, and let me tell you, 0/10 would not recommend.
Finally, the Leaving
I swear I want to end this story, but I can’t. It keeps going!
I thank Boss Man for the invitation. He looks tired. I thank Finnish Friend for everything. He looks #whitegurlwasted. I resume contact with HR Friend and a very drunk handler, who guides me downstairs and orders me to sit in the lounge area like I’m a prisoner.
When we make it on the bus, I resume quietly sipping my coconut water and take out my Nintendo Switch and pretend to be Emperor Trajan conquering the world to the sounds of snoring Vietnamese people, whom I hope to call co-workers. It’s only a hop, skip, and a Grab (Vietnam’s Uber), and then I make it home. It’s midnight.
I take off my New Balances (you done good, Business Cool shoes 😎), get out of my dress clothes (the WORST invention ever), and get ready for bed.
Steph asks, how was it?
I laugh.
Ha ha. Ha ha ha.
I sing: VIGLACERAAAAAAAAA!
P.S. I didn’t get the job. WORTH IT.
P.P.S. Thank you for reading.
My question is….do you have any crazy interview stories? Insane things you’ve done for a job? Let me know in the comments 👇
Party first, ethics later? Love this. Thanks for sharing!
Hilarious. Felt like I was right there with you!!