The summer I was 19, I worked in Linden, New Jersey. In America, New Jersey is called the Garden State. That might be true for the southern part of the state. But Linden was known more for its chemical plants than for its botanical varieties. The rounded building-size fuel tanks of the chemical companies dotted the landscaped. I felt grown-up working among the hard-core chemical workers, dressed in their white overalls, hard hats and steel-tipped shoes. I would eavesdrop on their conversation in the cafeteria to decipher their lingo, a world so different from the college students that I ate among just a few weeks before.

I was thrilled then when Tyrell sat next to me one day and struck up a conversation. He had been working there close to 10 years and gave me tips on who's who in the plant. When he heard I spent the previous summer traveling in Europe, he was not impressed.

"I lived in London when I was 21," he confided. "Those English and their accent, I hardly knew what they were saying half the time. No, I like it here just fine." Still, I was amazed that he had lived abroad and spent the rest of lunchtime talking about traveling.

So it was a surprise when a few days later, when I had made friends with others in the plant, that some of them were making fun of Tyrell. Since he wasn't present, I decided to defend him. "Did you know he lived in London when he was 21?" I wanted to impress them.

"Ha," one of the old-timers piped up. "The closest Tyrell's been to London is London, New Jersey." The whole table cracked up laughing. Later, one of them explained that Tyrell was known for his stories. Indeed as the summer wore on, and I had a chance to talk to him some more, Tyrell always seem to have met, seen, or done whatever it was I was talking about at the moment.

That summer in the chemical plant was an education for me. It taught me that people did not lie, but rather like to put themselves in a good light. As I went on into the working world, I was able to differentiate between the stories people told and the genuine advice that I was offered.

It worked well until I came to China.

Suddenly I found myself in a world where I couldn't differentiate between the tall stories and the advice. I did not have the experienced of a Chinese Tyrell to show me the difference. It was as if I were 19 again. Eventually I did learn. The process cost me in money, energy and faith in people. But once I caught on, I realized it wasn't hard to see the signs. I just needed to know the lingo.

I know someone
I know where you can get it cheaper
This is the only way it can be done

I know Someone
You hit the wall in getting the proper authority for a project. Then someone you meet says these three simple words and promises to make all your trouble disappear. It usually involves handing over lots of money, most of it un-documented, and you don't ever even get to meet the person your contact knows, or where the money is going to exactly.

A friend had his eye on a piece of prime real estate that belonged to the district government. If restaurants can open up in houses once owned by Soong Ching Ling (wife of …) then getting this space was not out of the question. Except, he didn't know how to go about it – until he met Madame Zhang.

She knew someone, she said, who had direct access to the District Chief. It was a matter of paying her $20,000 upfront and she'll have the lease contract stamped before the check was cashed. The only part of this business transaction that was not negotiable and must be completed quickly was handing over the money. Two years later, the money long spent, my friend has moved on from the yearning for his perfect location.

Another friend handed over getting an important permit to someone she knew and trusted well. The required permit needed the approval of a few people, "so I'll need some entertainment money," this well-trusted friend said.

"But who are these people," I asked. "Tell your friend you want to go to their next meeting. Sometimes it helps if the owner makes her own case in person," I suggested.

Thousands were handed over to said friend, who gave the advice that "better you don't meet these people. They don't usually like to show their face." Then the news come that the permit can be given only if she made renovations totally over 100,000rmb – on top of the money she already handed over.

You Can Know the Same Someone
Shanghainese local governments are under the spotlight much more than in the past. For big projects, the approval you need probably cannot be fudged by anyone in the local government anyway. If a permit you require hinges on the mood of the person who chomps the application, then it's likely that you can find and talk to this person yourself. Local officials are not likely to look for big payoffs, but rather some respect and humility.

When the gas official who came to inspect my restaurant discovered that I had used a "gas company consultant," he asked why I used such a company. "I was told that it would ensure my gas permit," I answered.

"You don't have to do that anymore," he advised. "These days we're very straight-forward. Next time you just contact us directly."

In the restaurant industry, it's obvious there are vast differences in the hygiene levels of eating establishments. Perhaps the ones who wash their dishes on the sidewalk do need "to know someone" with the right authority in order to operate. But for most of us here doing business in China, our operations tend to be model units when it comes to upholding local regulations.

What's lost in translation in "I know someone" is that as foreigners who have read all the books about doing business in China, we think that is the sure ticket to smoothing over problems. We must learn to differentiate who is that someone in our contact's mind.

Your project might need a government seal from the Central Government or it might depend on the lowly bureaucrat who holds the chomp. These days, it's possible to simply make a phone call to the local bureau and get the name of the person-in-charge. At this level, they are not looking for pocket money. Most times, they just want some respect from the hot-shot foreigner who wants to set up shop on their turf. This respect can be shown by offering a pack of cigarettes, or having the foreigner taking the time to shake hands even when conversing is not possible. Find an assistant who can finesse all the rituals of hospitality and pretty soon, you'll be the one to say, "I know someone" to your associates.