“When your father married me,” she’d say, “he didn’t even know what cheese was. When I made breakfast he thought I’d let the cheese spoil because it smelled sharp, and he asked me what it was. I was shocked at his ignorance.”
Mother laughed when she told this story, but her laugh disclosed a sense of disgust. My mother had grown up in Tokyo, where her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all been either upper-level bureaucrats or lawyers. My father, on the other hand, was from some hick town in Wakayama Prefecture, where he had to struggle just to make it into Tokyo University. He had no choice after that but to enter a company and work as an accountant. My father was proud of using his wits to succeed. My mother was proud of her pedigree.
And what about me? After I graduated from Q University, I entered a top-notch firm. I was fashionably thin and men paid attention to me. I had it all, which in and of itself was extremely cool, I thought. By day I was respected for my brains; by night I was desired for my body. I felt like Superwoman! It made me grin as I thought about it.
“Kazue! Watch what you’re doing! You’re spilling your coffee!” I heard Mother scream angrily. I realized I’d dribbled here and there. A brown stain was spreading on my polyester skirt. Mother picked up the dishcloth and threw it at me. I tried to wipe the coffee off but only succeeded in making the stain worse. Once it had set, it was not going to come out. Resigned, I picked the newspaper off the table and began to spread it out.
“Aren’t you going to change?” my mother asked, without looking in my direction. She began clearing away my younger sister’s breakfast things. She always made my sister’s breakfast: toast, fried egg, coffee. My sister worked for a manufacturer and had to leave at the crack of dawn. I only had to be at work by nine-thirty, so I usually didn’t have to leave home until eight-thirty.
“No. The skirt is navy so it’s not that noticeable.”
I heard my mother release an especially loud sigh, so I looked up.
“What?”
“I just think you could pay more attention to your appearance. You’ve worn the same outfit how many days in a row now?”
This made me angry. “Look, I’m old enough to dress myself, so just mind your own business, will you?”
Mother was quiet for a minute after that. But then she started in again.
“I don’t want to bring this up now, but there is something I simply must speak to you about. Lately you’ve been coming home very late. What have you been doing? Plus your makeup has gotten so heavy, you’re thinner than ever, and I just wonder if you’re eating properly.”
“I’m eating.”
I chewed up a gymnema pill and washed it down with a swig of coffee. Gymnema was a popular weight-loss product. It was distilled from natural sources and helped break down fat cells in the body. I bought a bottle in the convenience store and ate the pills instead of breakfast.
“That’s not food, it’s medicine. You’ll get sick if you don’t eat well.”
“If I get sick, there will be no one around to keep earning money, will there?”
Mother had gradually begun to look like a nasty old woman. Her hair had thinned and her face—with her eyes spaced so far apart—had begun to look more and more like that of a flounder. When she heard my taunt, Mother let out a big sigh and then she said, “You’ve really become a monster. It’s frightening.”
She pointed to the bruises I had on my wrists. “Are you into something weird?”
“Oh-oh! I’ve gotta run!”
I looked at my watch and jumped up. I slapped the newspaper down on the table. Mother covered her ears with her hands and glared at me angrily.
“Was that loud enough?” I shouted. “You ought to be able to grant me that much. I mean, you’re living off my wages, aren’t you? Why do you think you can tell me what to do?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because I’ll do whatever I damn well please and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I felt better once I got that off my chest. Back when I first entered the same company where my father had worked, I was so proud of the fact that I was able to provide for my mother and sister. But now it had become a big weight around my neck. My father had collapsed in his bath. If we’d discovered him right away, we might have been able to save him. I couldn’t help secretly blaming my mother. She was at home, but she’d already gone to bed. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind that she was somehow to blame.
After my father’s death, my income was the sole support for the family, and I began to feel the pressure. I took on as many tutoring jobs as I could and spent all day running from one to the next. And what did she do, my mother? She just sat at home fussing over the plants in her garden. What a big fat zero. A worthless woman. I looked at my mother in total disgust.
“If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late,” my mother said, without glancing over at me. What she meant was, Hurry up and disappear. I threw on my trench coat and grabbed my shoulder bag. Mother did not go with me to the front door to see me off. Here I was, setting off to earn the money that enabled her to live in this house, and she couldn’t even say good-bye. She’d always managed to send my father off.
I slipped into my dust-covered black high heels and left the house. I was tired, and my legs felt heavy. I hadn’t had enough sleep. As I walked to the station, I looked down at the bruises on my wrists. The customer I had last night was into S&M play. He’d tied my wrists tightly. I encounter that kind of customer from time to time, and each time I add an extra charge to the usual fee. “If you want to get kinky, give me another ten thousand yen and I’ll play along,” I tell them.
At work I was so sleepy I couldn’t take it, so I went into the conference room and stretched out on the table to nap. It was as close as I could get to crawling into bed. I lay there on my back and slept. Someone came into the room, but seeing that I was on the table, he closed the door in a hurry and left. I was sure someone would call me on it before long, but at that point I didn’t care.
I slept for about an hour before I returned to my desk. As I walked past Kamei’s desk I saw her hurriedly cover up one of her papers. I knew what it was: an invitation to one of the social gatherings that the others in the company organized. I never attend, so nobody bothers to invite me anymore. At that moment I was seized with the desire to have a little fun with Kamei. “What’s that you have?” I asked. Kamei took a deep breath, preparing her answer.
“Ms. Sat, can you come? They’ll be having a party next week.”
“When?”
“On Friday.”
I could feel the air in the office go still. Everyone held their breath, awaiting my response. I glanced over at the office manager. He was sitting at his computer pretending to type something.
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
The air began to stir again. Kamei nodded nervously.
“Oh, well, that’s too bad.”
Kamei’s outfit was garish. Today she was wearing a pantsuit made of some kind of glossy material. Her blouse was bright white and open at the throat, revealing a gold necklace underneath. She really stood out in a conservative work environment like ours. And when she left at night, I suspect she exuded the aura of a “career woman.” I felt a flash of superiority as I compared her double life to my own.
“Ms. Sat, you haven’t ever joined us on one of our nights out, have you?”
Kamei seemed to be launching some kind of offensive strike. I ducked down behind the piles of papers on my desk and did not answer. Just as I stuck the earplugs in my ears, I heard Kamei apologize for overstepping her bounds.
“Sorry.”
Actually, I had gone to one of the events, shortly after I’d entered the firm. There were about forty people there, as I recall. They held the event at a bistro next to our office building. I figured it would be like an extension of work and I probably should go. Other than the old-timers, there were about ten other new employees. Only two of us, another woman and I, had
graduated from a four-year university.
There were hardly any other women in the company with university degrees. Out of the 170 new employees, there were only seven of us. There was no particular title or special section for us, so I assumed we would all demand to be given the same kind of positions that men graduating from university received. But I was assigned to the research post along with another woman with a degree from Tokyo University, just like Kamei, so I was certain that we were considered the talented employees. I think her name was Yamamoto. But I’m not sure, because she quit after working a little over four years.
When I attended the after-work gathering, all I saw were my peers and superiors running around drunk. What was particularly distressing was to see the way the male employees were checking out the new females. They were most interested in the women who had attended junior college and were assigned to lower assistantship positions. Amid all the chatter and hoopla, I sat with one other Tokyo University graduate. We both looked rather stunned. There were other women around us, but they seemed used to this sort of event and were shrieking with laugher and trading jokes with one another. Before long the men started running a poll to find out who the most popular female employee was.
“Okay, out of all the women here, which one would you pick for a trip to the beach?”
A male employee five years ahead of me started it off. The section head and the office manager both started to applaud when it came time to vote for their favorite. In the end an assistant in the design section was selected for the beach. Then the situation was changed. Who would you want to take to a concert? Who for a walk in the park? And so on. Finally they asked, “Who would you most want to marry?” And the bistro erupted in unanimous applause for a sweet modest girl who worked as one of the operations assistants.
“Just look at them all.” The Tokyo University graduate turned to me. I didn’t answer. I just sat there stiffly on my cracker-thin floor cushion. My dream was falling apart. Men who were competent at work were carousing around and getting drunk.
A man who entered the company when I did called over to us. “How about Ms. Yamamoto?” he said.
The men who had been voting on women turned and pretended to look awed with respect. “No, not Ms. Yamamoto. She’s too smart for us!” All the men laughed. Yamamoto was a beautiful woman, the kind most men found it difficult to approach. Yamamoto stared at them coolly and shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, then, what about Ms. Sat?”
The speaker pointed to me, and the men from the research department—all my seniors—looked at me, their faces red from the alcohol.
“Be careful what you say about Sat. She got her job through connections!”
I always believed that I’d gotten the job on account of my own abilities and hard work, but I guess that’s not how it looked to the others. I came to realize for the first time in my life that mine was an existence that would never meet the approval of society.
• 3 •
I want to win. I want to win. I want to win.
I want to be number one. I want to be respected.
I want to be someone whom everyone notices.
I want people to say, What an awesome employee Kazue Sat is. So glad we hired her!
But even if I was at the top of the list, who would know? My job was not one where it was easy to distinguish yourself. The work I did was not easily quantified. I wrote reports, and it was difficult for others to recognize my excellence. This drove me crazy. What could I possibly do to ensure that the others in the office noticed me and my abilities? My superiors claimed I’d been admitted to the firm on account of my family connections. I had to think of a way to prove them wrong—to prove myself.
Later, when I heard that Yamamoto had passed the top level of the Government English Language exam, I started studying for the exammyself. After I’d studied like a maniac for a full year, I took the exam and passed the top level also. But it wasn’t particularly unusual to have people in our firm who had top-level credentials; that still wasn’t good enough. I started taking all my notes and writing memos in English. I wrote Japanese with English grammar structure. As a result, those around me stared at me in amazement, and I was delighted by my own success.
Another time, I decided I would contribute an article to the newspaper. With my breadth of knowledge and superior verbal skills, I knew I could write not just on domestic economic issues but on international politics as well. I submitted a short article called “What Gorbachev Should Do” to the readers’ column of one of the national newspapers. When the paper printed the article in the morning edition, I bounded off to work in fine spirits. I was sure everyone would come up to me and compliment me on the piece. “Hey, I saw the paper this morning!” they would say. “Your piece is great!” But contrary to expectations, no one at the office seemed to have even noticed. They all went busily about their work. What, no one here even reads the paper? I found that really hard to believe.
During lunch the office manager frequently read the paper, so I assumed he’d have something to say to me about it. I loitered around his desk during my lunch break, not able to eat anything myself. The office manager looked up and glanced over at me.
“Did you write this, Sat?”
He thumped the paper with his finger. My chest swelled.
“Why, yes, I did.”
“You’re really clever, aren’t you?”
And that was that. I can still remember the disappointment I felt. There must be something wrong here. I could think of only one reason for this oversight, one reason that could redeem me in my own eyes. They were jealous of me.
Two years or so had passed since I entered the firm. Once, while I was writing a report in English, I felt someone hovering over me.
“You write like a native speaker, don’t you? Did you study overseas?”
Occasionally the head of the research division would stop by to check on things. He was now peering over my shoulder, interested in what I was writing. The division head was named Kabano. He was forty-three, a good-natured fellow who’d graduated from a mediocre university and was the kind of person who was often treated with contempt. I ignored him. I didn’t think there was any particular reason to reply. Kabano looked at me—set adrift in that office with no one really to rely on—and smiled compassionately.
“I knew your father well, Sat. He was in accounting when I first joined the firm. He helped me a good deal.”
I looked up at Kabano. A number of people had mentioned my father, but most of them had only been on the fringes of power. Kabano was no different, but I couldn’t help feeling that he was trying to belittle my father for some reason.
“Such a shame about your father—and him still so young. But having an exceptional daughter such as yourself must have made him happy. I’m sure he was very proud of you.”
I said nothing and turned back to my work. Kabano must have been shocked by my lack of response; he left the office immediately. That evening as I was preparing to leave, a male coworker who was five years my senior came over to me. He had been the one who had accused me at the office party of using connections to enter the firm.
“Sat, it really isn’t any of my business, but I’d like to talk with you about something. Do you have a minute?”
He barely spoke above a whisper, glancing around nervously the whole time.
“What is it?”
I could feel my defenses rising. I still hadn’t forgiven him.
“It’s kind of difficult to talk about, but I feel it’s my obligation. I don’t think your attitude earlier was appropriate. In fact, I think you were rude to Mr. Kabano.”
“Really. And what about your own attitude? Weren’t you the one who announced to everyone that I used connections to get into the firm? Don’t you think that was rude?”
I imagine he had not expected me to launch this kind of defense, because his face wilted.
“If I insulted you, please understand it was just the liquor talking. I
apologize if I hurt your feelings. That hadn’t been my intention. I meant it as a warning to others that you are part of the G Corporation family and that they shouldn’t be rude to you. That’s what Mr. Kabano was trying to express earlier. That’s why I think your attitude was rude. In a family such as ours, everyone supports and encourages everyone else. That’s just the way we are, and you’d do well to recognize it. Getting sulky about an imaginary offense is counterproductive.”
“You’re welcome to think whatever you like, but I entered this firm through my own ability. Of course I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps, but I earned my position here on my own. Naturally I’m very proud of my father. But I’m tired of hearing about him.”
My older colleague folded his arms across his chest. “Do you suppose it was really through your own ability?”
When I heard him say this, I practically burst out in tears of rage. “If you don’t believe me, check it out yourself! And stop going on about connections. I’ve had enough.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he continued. “I got in because of connections, too. My uncle worked here. He’s already reached retirement age and isn’t around now. I don’t care if people say I’m here on account of connections or not. There are times I felt protected because of my uncle. Of course, there are always people who will hassle you because of connections. But life is full of enemies anyway. It doesn’t hurt to form strong alliances and turn negatives to your advantage. That’s the way the corporate world operates in Japan.”
“I think it’s wrong.”
“That’s because you don’t understand the first thing about a man’s world.”
With that as his parting shot, my colleague turned and walked away. I was so angry I thought I’d explode. A man’s world! Men trotted that out when it suited them, forming alliances with one another and excluding women at their convenience. If G Architecture and Engineering Firm was supposed to be one big happy family, women ought to be included in these alliances also. I was pretty sure there was a Q University alumni ring in the firm, but no one had told me about it. I was surrounded by the enemy. I really was cast out into the wilderness. Suddenly I heard Yamamoto speaking to someone in a hushed voice.
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