So on my roughest days, I have crawled home from work, peeled off my sweaty clothes and cried like a baby cracked open a self-help book or two with the objective of learning how to cope with life in the "Land of the Rising Sun." Being that I spend 9 hours of my life at work, 99% of my anxieties are work related. "Realize that nothing about your host country is bad or wrong" the self-help books repeat, "just different." This advice is perfect. It's fair, it's logical and it's the truth. "Just different" I imagine a soothing voice saying. "It's just different," I repeat to myself.
This line of reasoning has gotten me over quite a few "Japanese-life" hurdles . . . except one. And that, dear reader, would be anything workplace related. That is where my feeble American brain shuts down and the only thought that escapes is "This is crazy!" Now I'm not bashing Japan and I'm also not saying that everyone's situation is like mine. But this is my blog and I can only tell you about the world that I see.
So when it comes to the "business end" of Japan, things get a little . . . (how do you say?) . . . tight. Pun intended.
THE most important thing to realize is that hierarchy is EVERYTHING. One of the first things that I was handed when I started my job was a notebook. On the first page of this notebook was a list of everyone who worked for the company and their respective titles. The president's name and title was first, followed by the vice president and so on and so forth. Near the bottom of the list the names started to disappear and there were only titles. And gracing the edge of the paper, at the very bottom, the lowest position on the list was that of the Native English Teacher. Of course, at the time that I received this notebook, the symbolism was lost on me. I suppose if they'd have straight out told me that this was a totem pole and that I was at the bottom, it would not have been very appealing. Especially with my coming from the United States, a country where everyone wants to believe that they are special. (Ahh . . . Silly Ahmellicans)
In America they give "the little people" incentives to make them feel special. Gold stars to wear on their name tags, employee of the month posters to display, $50 gift certificates to Best Buy or the Olive Garden. "You can call me Bill!" you're friendly American manager might say on your first day of work in order to give off a more "friendly" and "personal" vibe. Followed by, "We're all like a family here." (Which, by the way, is the kiss of death for any job and means you should probably run as fast as you can in the opposite direction.)
Which reminds me of a story. When I was on my way to meet my manager for the first time, I was flustered because I realized that I'd forgotten her name. I sat on the train, purging my memory for any detail I could remember. Finally, when I met her, I gave up.
"I'm sorry, but may I have your name again?" I said apologetically.
"Oh! No name . . . you call me manager," she said.
I remember it taking a while for this to digest. (Feeble American brain, remember?) Regardless, "Manager" is what I call her among many other things. Later on, though, I learned that in Japan employees are called by their titles and not their names. This is kind of a constant reminder of where you stand in the grand scheme of things. You are never to forget your position. You're position is prevalent in every interaction and it means everything.
Anywho, along with this whole "title" and "hierarchy" business, there's the business of decision making. And I'm definitely not knocking the Japanese way of getting things done (because it works for them), but seeing things from this side of the fence really sheds some light on how America and Japan differ when it comes to making decisions.
Okay, I'll just get right to it. In Japan's business culture (meaning my job), everything takes time. A very lonnnng time. The process to grant a vacation request takes so long that sometimes you are still waiting for approval 2 months later, while you are on vacation. And it's not because everyone is just sitting around twiddling their thumbs. The problem difference lies in the fact that when it comes to getting something done, as a friend of mine would put it, "Japan's got more hoops than the circus."
At my job there are 4 or more higher ups that must approve every decision. Book requests, vacation requests, sick day requests, etc. And often times, these people are very . . . particular. They want you to fill out a request, several months in advance and then submit it to your manager. Your manager must then add her 2 cents to the request as to whether she approves of your plan. Then up the steps of hierarchy your request goes, sometimes getting knocked all the way back down, meaning you have to resubmit and start all over again. You can track the process online and I swear, sometimes it's like watching a bill become a law.
One day, I thought I was doing the company a favor by insisting that two of my students purchase a certain book as supplemental material for their lessons. Being that I decided against using a book from an outside publisher, so that the company would profit from selling one of their own books, I thought that I would get some "brownie points." But instead, I got just the opposite.
"Are you sure this is something you want to do?" my manager asked, with a little more intensity than I thought the situation called for.
Me: Umm, yeah. (confused face . . . as usual)
Her: (Deep sigh and walks away)
Apparently she had to submit a bunch of requests to get this decision to go through. And considering that along with the sale of these two books, there was a possibility that the company would have to purchase one (yes, just one) teacher's manual to go with it, well . . . this was what dragged the situation out for 2 straight months. My manager tried to explain to me that it was too much trouble, but I just didn't get it. I couldn't understand why they would make such a big deal out of a couple students deciding to buy some of their books. Yeah, they would have to buy a teacher's manual for me, but they'd still be making a profit. I've seen them sell books before. They'd even told us to push students to buy books that month. So here I was, doing just that, and I was getting dragged through the mud. Regardless, the decision was finally decided in my favor when the company realized that there was no teacher's manual for the book that I was requesting. I guess they forgot to check in the first place.
Either way this leads to something else. The "no" factor. Now this may just be my truth, but at my job, I've noticed that every request is given a "no!" before it is granted. And it used to bother me, but now I just realize that "no" is more of a reaction than an answer. It's more like, "You want what?! . . . NO! . . . wait, what did you want again?" Kind of like a grumpy old man who thinks that everyone's trying to get over on him.
Regardless, it takes patience and a quiet strength to get through the day sometimes and this is something that, I'm sorry to say, I have to work on. I've never realized how quick and impulsive America is. And as an American, I've always prided myself on my ability to (as it says on my resume) "assess a situation and react accordingly," or "my determination to be goal-oriented" and "results driven." But here in Japan, that's not a selling point. It's not about the results, so much as the long, strenuous, agonizing process. If your superior has reason to believe that you are not respecting the process (in other words, if you're making it look easy), they don't care what the results are . . . they will shut you down with the quickness.
Now there are some jobs in America where the people are like this. For example, every office has that person who walks around looking like they are going to have a heart attack. You know, the "oh-my-god-my-life-is-so-hard-why-god-oh-why-do-I-have-to-bear-the-weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders-every-single-day-'do-you-need-help?-"no, because-only-I-know-how-to-do-this-and-you-wouldn't-understand-it-even-if-I-explained-it-to-you" person.
Well, that's how most of the managers are at my specific company and if you think you are going to mosey on up to them and nonchalantly get something done, your casual-ness might come off as reason to get a quick "no" because well, you're not respecting the process which is "complicated-and-oh-my-god-what-do-you-think-you-can-just-come-to-this-country-and-get-anything-you-want-you-silly-American-things-take-time-and-work-and-seriousness-and-you'd-better-just-wait-a-minute-what-did-you-want-again?"
I say all of this to say that casualness is the kiss of death in the Japanese workplace.
So, about me. I've been working for a Japanese company for 5 and a half months now. My routine is not perfect, but it's stable. I wake up every morning, make and eat breakfast, read a few bible passages, make a feeble attempt to clean or do something useful but just end up on Skype chatting to my friends and family, I turn on my favorite dvd full of music videos (a REALLY thoughtful gift that I got from a friend) dance around in the living room for a while, get dressed and then admire myself in the mirror for a few minutes. I am a tall, lean, caramel complexioned Black woman wearing a dark suit, a silk blouse and heels. My makeup is done and I like to wear my dread-locked hair in an elegant up-do. I don't look like I am going to a job that requires me to crawl around on the floor with 2 and 5 year old babies. I don't feel like I am ready to listen to some overweight 11 year old with spiky hair attempt to be sarcastic to me in broken English. I don't look "child-friendly" and I don't feel "child-friendly." But this is the costume of a working person in Japan. So I tell myself, "it's just different" and I hop onto my bicycle and ride past other souls, who are also going to their daily grind. These brick-faced individuals, all wearing the same kind of dark suits, look like Japanese versions of me. No more thrilled to be going to work than I am. We all blend together like a swarm of black bumble bees, collectively charging toward our prison cell to be held captive for 9 or 10 hours. The whole time I ride to work, I am blasting my iPod at full volume, purging all of the happiness and rhythm that one can muster from a Luther Vandross song.
" . . . who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar.
I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holla! . . . "
When I arrive at work, the music stops. I hop off of my bicycle and prepare for the (as I like to call it) "9 hours of silence." I teach English during this time and run around with "the midgets," make small talk with my adult students and just try to look as busy as possible. My interactions with my coworkers are pleasant but limited. There's something about the environment that sucks the life out of everything, I don't know whether it's my business suit, or the fact that no one understands "natural" English or that it's always too hot or too cold in the lobby but gradually my desire to converse at work diminishes and I am left with the feeling of introspection. And honestly, I don't mind this at all. Actually, I think this is something that I probably needed to work on anyway. It feels like a bootleg version of meditation. (Maybe one day I'll work my way up to real meditation.)
During these moments, I look around and take in my environment. I listen to the conversations that I hear from the parents as they gossip in the lobby. I watch the way the Japanese teachers plug away at whatever project they are working on. I watch my poor manager run around the lobby looking worried and smiling desperately at children. I wonder what kind of lives other Japanese "business-people" are living and if this is how they imagined they would spend the majority of their lives. At work for ten to twelve hours a day. My meditations have lead me to believe that "work" is a kind of religion in Japan. The purpose for life. Sometimes, I look at the children running around in the lobby, playing with hand held video games and cell phones and wonder if they are ready to worship at the shrine of corporate industry. And then I decide that I don't feel sorry for these children because they don't know any other way. Just like my boss and my coworkers. This is their way of life. As my Japanese coworker said, defensively, (after I told her that I don't like spending so much time at my job), "Life isn't about having fun!" My initial thought was, "It isn't?" but I guess that's just a reflection of American culture. Here in the U.S. we judge a person's success by how much leisure time they have, while in Japan it seems (in my opinion) that a person's success is judged by how much they work. So here I am complaining about something that any other Japanese person would (maybe) feel blessed to have. Eh, either way . . . these are the thoughts that run through my mind during my 9 hours of silence.
. . . just different.
So at the end of the day, I hop onto my bicycle and the music commences.
". . . Oh my love!
A thousand kisses from you is never too muuuuch"
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