Alpha/Beta Culture

**Please understand that everything I say is obviously biased since this is based on only my perspective and interactions with many international students, intensive Dutch students, my lovely Suriname landlady and random people I hassle. With that being said, enjoy!

This past quarter I took a management class on organizational behavior. Toward the end, we went over expectations for expatriates; an outline of sorts to serve for when one of us might need to move to another country for work. Within this section of the class we went through a cultural simulation where the class was divided into two groups: the Alphas and the Betas. (I was appropriated into the Beta crowd) We were shuffled into separate classrooms where our new cultural norms were established.

As a Beta, I was given seven cards in various colors, speckled with numbers of significance. Our end goal was to get a monochromatic collection of cards with a matching number sequence based on the top right-hand corner. A new set of communication standards was also established, mostly verbal and English was banned. We were a competitive, equal, dog eat dog culture. In other words America.

During this exercise, we had the opportunity to send one scout over to the Alphas, who would then relay what he saw to us, then a larger team went over and they came to us and so on and so forth. Of course, when I was sent over, taboos were all I did. I didn’t understand their “game,” meaning of their words even though they all spoke English, norms, etc.

You see, the Alphas, were focused on the experience of life. They, like the Betas, had a game. They just didn’t care who won. If they saw you were greedy or too competitive they would just hand over all of their cards and chips to you. They encouragingly patted each other on the back a lot. As Betas the only human contact we encountered is when we pushed someone aside in order to exploit a new person so that we would win. They had a strict gender divide. There was a head of sorts, an all-seeing man in a chair set up high on a collection of desks. Infractions were reported to him, and so forth.

What I would like to say with this brief outline of the global simulation, is that now—at least for me—it’s not a simulation. I love the Beta culture. It’s familiar. It’s American.

Dutch it is not.

Yes, I’ve only been here for an inkling over a week, but let’s face it, I don’t like to waste time and have dove right in. First, the most important thing that should be conveyed is that the Dutch are truly the most sincerest and nicest people I have yet to encounter. They really will go out of their way to be most hospitable.

That said, they are odd.

Let’s start with food. I now know why they are so darn thin. They don’t eat. You know how it is said that man shall not eat by bread alone, well part of that is true. The Dutch just add cheese to their bread. Oh and they eat their fries with mayo and well of course since I am trying to get the entire experience, I tried. You shouldn’t. But I’ll save that story for a bit later.

Continuing the oddities of the Dutch, are their schedules. Everything closes at five…let me correct myself at 17 hours. Supermarkets, bike shops, libraries, etc. And one would assume that then one would go eat and retire to bed to gear up for an early productive day. Ah, dear friend, one would be mistaken. No, no. While dinner does mean that one would indeed enjoy the one (yes SINGLE) hot meal of the day, it does not on the other hand suggest that one goes to bed. One would then take a little break and get together with friends around 22 o’clock to hang and talk.

And talk they do. One of the first questions shoved in my face with glee was Hilary or Obama?!!?? Why?! Really…hmmmm… Quickly after do you own a gun? (Sincere shock when they find out I don’t believe in violence) I really believe that they know more about America than the tour guides at the Smithsonian. I met this group of guys who could not only name every state in the US, but also their capitals and yes the NBA teams as well. Thank goodness Vitalik is my brother and yaks about geography, peppering duller conversations with geography games. It’s helped me avoid looking like an ignorant fool in quite a many conversation.

Thus, they spend hours and hours chatting it up. I call it a night at 2am and have been called lazy—by the Dutch and more so by the Italians. When I say this will help me get a good night’s rest and be more efficient tomorrow, they simply roll their eyes at me.

Class! Ah.

Here’s another interesting schedule example. Upon arriving to class, we have door monitors. Usually women dressed in rent-a-cop wear who promptly close the doors at the exact moment class begins. Late students will not be permitted entrance. My Ukrainian-Russian, grew up in Holland, friend explained that otherwise everyone would easily be significantly late. Class length is about two to three hours long, yet forty-five minutes in, we have a break. Not the American sliver of a five minutes break to run to the restroom or refill your water bottle break even though we know that when we get back class within two minutes class would have already resumed. No. This is at least fifteen minutes. One is to socialize, wander, grab a sandwich, coffee or tea, whatever. Bringing up business is always followed with gushing apologies, but best just not to be brought up in any social situation. However, from what I can gather—every situation is a social situation.

Then there is the subject of class lecture. Thankfully, I have a brilliant professor who has taught at the University of Chicago’s MBA program and is sticking to the American style of teaching. Otherwise, my 500 person lectures (a standard) are a third filled (if that) where the students who do show up babble amongst themselves while the prof stands on stage and goes about his business seemingly oblivious that everyone else in class is talking!

Time seems endless. Life is about living. I see clots of grandmothers chatting at corners, children playing football in my courtyard, teenagers acting like teenagers, professionals going about their business—it’s life, just much, much, much more relaxed and taken with an air of European.

I have grown up a Beta. But here I am living in an Alpha culture. It’s odd. Uncomfortable at times. However, that’s the whole point of this experience, to get out of my little bubble.

Well, let me tell you--I’m out of my bubble.