Working across cultures, I’ve learned that some of the most challenging moments aren’t when someone is clearly wrong — they’re when both sides are absolutely right, yet prioritizing very different things.
Let me share one such situation: It’s about meetings — how they are run, and what people believe a meeting is for.
When I work with Japanese colleagues, meeting start and end times are usually very clear in advance.
That makes it easier for participants to plan the rest of their day.
Finishing on time is seen as a way of respecting not only one’s own time, but everyone else’s as well.
However, in one cross-cultural meeting with Japanese and local colleagues in an emerging market, discussions continued past the scheduled end time.
No clear conclusion was in sight.
And we were about to go over time.
My Japanese colleagues had another appointment and kept glancing at the clock.
They were concerned that arriving late at the next meeting could inconvenience others — and potentially damage trust and credibility.
The local participants, however, saw the situation very differently.
One person would make a point.
Someone else would immediately challenge it.
Another would stand up and passionately explain their own position.
Even as the scheduled end time approached, the discussion showed no sign of slowing down.
My Japanese colleague was visibly frustrated.
Seeing that we weren’t getting any closer to a conclusion, I suggested that we wrap up for the day and schedule another meeting later.
That was when I found myself under intense criticism. The local participants said things like:
“We came here because we have serious concerns about how this project is being handled. Are you saying we should end the meeting without deciding anything? What am I supposed to report back to my team?”
“I came here to hear everyone’s views. Why stop the meeting halfway through?”
“Ending a meeting before everyone has spoken? If that’s the case, I shouldn’t have come at all. That would be the real waste of time.”
As I listened, I completely understood their perspective.
The purpose of the meeting, for them, was problem-solving. Ending it simply because “time is up” felt incomplete — even irresponsible.
At the same time, I completely understood my Japanese colleagues’ frustration.
In meetings with only Japanese participants, when the end time approaches, people often start “reading the room.” Even if they have something to say, they may hold back.
Why?
Because speaking up could extend the meeting. And extending the meeting could inconvenience everyone else.
For many Japanese professionals, respecting other people’s time is a matter of basic professionalism — even morality.
From that viewpoint, the local participants seemed overly focused on expressing their own opinions, with little concern for time for others.
But from the local participants’ viewpoint, the meeting itself was the priority.
A meeting exists to surface concerns, hear everyone’s voices, and reach a solution everyone can accept.
So here we have two equally valid priorities:
Those who prioritize time management and minimizing inconvenience to others
vs.
Those who prioritize open discussion until they feel satisfied that the issue has been addressed.
When we work across cultures, these differences in values and assumptions can quietly — and sometimes painfully — affect trust, relationships, and efficiency.
At the time, I was working as a resident coordinator on a bilateral project between Japan and the country, playing an intermediary role to help a multicultural team collaborate effectively.
And people in roles like mine often find themselves in between — especially when everyone involved is, in their own way, “right.”
When situations like this arise, I ask myself: How can we work in a way that builds trust across differences?
There are no perfect answers.
But I want to keep learning, experimenting, and doing my best to help teams with diverse backgrounds work together — a little more comfortably, and a little more humanely.
