by Chow, Vann
“You have some guts. How long ago did you move to Tokyo? And why Human Rights?”
“That was about 13 years ago. I have always had a passion for Human Rights laws. I did two internships during my studies at Amnesty International in Japan. There were just two women in a team of nine. Very naturally I looked into cases related to Women's Rights. But the turning point was when I went to Taiwan for my third internships with Amnesty. I started learning Chinese and reading up on Taiwanese Asian news related to Japanese human rights. There were lots and lots of reports, from Taiwan, from Hong Kong and other Chinese media reports and academic researches describing the dire situation of Women's Rights in Japan. It was the locals that were covering up their dirty businesses it seems. When I graduated, I joined InterHRLA Japan without thinking twice.”
“This is mind blowing. You can read Japanese and Chinese? I could barely remember how to spell in English. You made me wonder what I have been doing all these years.”
“What have you been doing?” Aileen smiled.
“Well, it's not nearly as exciting as I thought it was before I met you. I am a Program Director of new businesses for a Japanese raw material trading company, DaiKe. You must have heard of it.”
“Yes. I think about two weeks ago... I think your company's Director had committed to improve females in upper management by 25% by 2013 in its annual shareholder's meeting. That's an aggressive thing to say.”
“I am ashamed to say that I have no knowledge of that. It seems like a good cause, and hopefully it won’t end up the way it did in France.”
Smith felt that he had a good chat with his date, Aileen Martin, a 36-year-old, energetic, convinced, intellectually sexy woman with a good sense of humor from Australia. She was surely a great catch, Smith thought to himself. Her strong feminist ideas, however, made her quite sensitive to misinterpretation of his gentlemanliness. They had debated for a good five minutes before Aileen convinced him that there was no need for him to invite her to dinner. Neither did she accept his offer to call her a taxi to take her home. She drove, he found out later.
How much does a Human Right Lawyer earn in Japan?
Instead of thinking about his date, he caught himself thinking about how much Aileen made working for a non-profit organization. He could not, for the love of God, afford to pay for parking all around Tokyo city every day. Of course, he was not completely broke himself. As a single middle age man, he had little expenses. Besides, he just won 1.4 million yen.
He did not tell anyone apart from his personal banker about his jackpot. He withheld the news from his secretary whom he originally wanted to enlist in order to get more information on his insurance policy because who knew what kind of rumors they were capable of spreading. Secretaries have full access to every detail of their managers' professional lives, and day by day encroaching their personal lives through their growing reliance on them. If his secretary were to know of his frequent late night visits to the Pachinko parlors… he could not bear the thought of it. The gossiping powers of secretaries were not to be disregarded easily, though. Smith had heard a lot of interesting stories from them through Andy, who was the twenty-something, good-looking fellow from America that was also the secretaries' pet. They told him every nasty bit of gossips they knew.
Andy had managed quite well, only his 3 rd year here, to infiltrate himself into many communities up from the tight-knitted Japanese management circle, and down to that of the window cleaning crew that came in every Friday morning. His quick wit and proficiency in Japanese and Japanese culture got him the visibility in the giant organization he craved for. Sloppiness may mark his face and he was; Smith was sure, disabled-at-birth from taking a firm stand on any matter, including the choice of a mistress, he navigated through dangerous waters on many tough situations quite well, keeping himself, while merit-free, blame-free throughout the years. He was the guy you go looking for connections, the obnoxious yet indispensable middle guy, the eunuch, whose power of introduction, association, promotion or opposition, could make or break your career if you let him.
Andy must not know about his winnings, Smith determined. Playing with Pachinko was not gambling, and even when it comes to winning a huge sum of money majestically at Pachinko that should all the more justify its harmless nature. There was no need to give the guy cards against you. Based on history, Christians were the worst kind of prosecutors.
He did not tell Andy about his date as well, though it was entirely his making that he met such an amazing young woman. Without surprise, Andy heard about it somehow and teased him one day at lunch while they were eating at the company's canteen.
“You should give her a call back.”
“Who?”
“The Legally Brunette.”
Smith said, “Her name is Aileen. Marie Newton told you?”
“No, the last time I saw her, she had her mouth stuffed with a ball gag. She couldn't speak.”
“I am eating, Andy!” He stabbed his fork in his pasta and got up, fighting shudders from the mental picture of the S&M activity that Andy painted for him. “Coffee?”
“Yup.” Such was the nature of most exchanges between these two grown men at work.
9. Television Commercial
The clock in the Design and Advertising Department on the 2 nd floor stroke 10 AM. The tingling sensation on the back of Ryuuji Tanaka's hand grew into a full twitch. In the distance, a cell phone sang its ringtone. Furious, the young assistant of Tanaka, Keigo Arai answered the call.
“Where the hell are you? The team is waiting for you. The van was standing outside for almost an hour. Do you know how much... No, don't switch to your agent! I'm talking to you.”
Tanaka's ear twitched as it strained to listen to the answer from the other side of the telephone.
“What do you mean he can't do it alone? We reserved your actor 2 months ago, and we’ve let you know today's schedule in advance. There was never any question raised. Do you have any idea how much work was involved coordinating a day like this? “he said. “–You have to honor the contract!” The other end's reply was demonstrated by the expression on Arai's face to be dissatisfying. “No, we don't... let me ask my supervisor. One second. Okay? Don't hang up on me!”
“What is it?” Tanaka stood up from the leather couch. Towering above his assistant, he exerted an unintended effect on him. Keigo Arai started to stutter. The warm fumes from his flaring nostril clouded the glasses.
“They... y... want us to pay for... two... two. The British guy needs an extra translator.”
“A hundred and twenty thousand yen later, they are asking us to pay more?” Tanaka slammed his palm on his desk. “Tell them we don't need them anymore. And we are going to report them to the Consumer Protection Agency.”
“But we need someone...” Arai spoke meekly.
“I said No!” Coffee mugs and notebooks jumped as Tanaka slammed his fist on the table for the second time. “Just hang up on them!” he said. And with his trembling hand, Arai pressed the red button to end the call with a loud beeping tone. His posture was one of great disappointment.
“What are we going to do now?” Arai asked.
“Use your brain,” Tanaka said. And swiftly he buttoned his suit jacket up. “There are so many foreigners in this company. Why can't we find someone internally? Arai, take the schedule, we are going up!”
“Which floor?” Arai followed Tanaka hastily into the elevator.
“I don't know,” Tanaka stood there without speaking for a second. “Let's try forty-seven.”
“47 th floor please,” Arai said to the young elevator conductor dressed in pink uniform.
No sooner than Arai's hand stopped trembling, he felt nauseated.– It must be a joke, he thought to himself. He was feeling seasick in an elevator, albeit one that was boasted to be one of the highest speed elevators in all of Tokyo's commercial buildings. To be fair, he had always taken the stairs from the lobby to his design studio on the second floor, the low-levelers both
in its literal, physical sense and in the hierarchy of the company. DaiKe had 2,500 employees in Tokyo and over 13,000 employees worldwide from top management talents to operators working at the furnace. It's a massive organization in Keigo Arai's point of view. Alone in this building of 48 floors, it housed more than 2000 employees from 23 different operation units. Tanaka, his manager, and him, together with their team of bored, unambitious, middle-aged colleagues who one might mistake as patients waiting for their turns in the emergency room of a public hospital for the minor ailments they could not afford to properly care for, worked, all but on the lowest floor of the DaiKe's building located in the center of Tokyo. He should have known better when he was recruited into the company – attracted, almost blindly, into his current position by the, one could say now after the fact, blind passion and misplaced leadership of Ryuuji Tanaka and the name of DaiKe, that there would be nothing to advertise in a raw material trading company that traded metals and plastics scraps with recycling and waste management companies on essentially, rubbish . It had been a long time since he had designed anything other than internal company communications and someone's ten-minute PowerPoint presentations. This was his chance to shoot a three-minute television commercial that would be aired on national television during night time, the so-called ‘Golden Period’. And on top of that, photos from the shoot would be turned into advertising materials for industry magazines, ads in light boxes at the bus stations, painted on the bodies of taxis and buses, big banners to be strung across the outside of buildings all over the country and beyond. The whole world would finally have the chance to see his masterpiece. This was how you make an impact in the world, to hold fast to one's assigned position in the big machine, regardless of how small, how mundane it appeared at first glance, and by hard work and unimpeded optimism he would achieve greatness in life – a romantic notion Arai was a firm believer of ever since he knew of the company's new sustainability project until today's morning. Today's morning, for once his cat did not jump on top of him as it used to do every day. It was a sure sign of something bad about to happen. The cat felt the change of luck from his body and adjusted its behaviors accordingly – something that he chose to ignore in the morning. The Japanese were fervent observers of animals' behaviors for a reason. They were a lot more sensitive than humans in detecting bad karma. What was happening to him now was a classic dream-come-true-turned-tragedy. Arai's shoulders slumped even lower at the thought of ruining the biggest opportunity of his life by listening to Tanaka-san's instruction, to hang up on the acting agency. He should have at least debated the pros and cons of accepting the acting agency's request to get a translator for the British actor they had identified for the commercial. The company was vested with money. It could pay for an extra translator or two, or fifteen. Yet that was the temper of Ryuuji Tanaka. He did not speak much, but when he did, he spoke of old traditional values, like honors, honesty, consistency as if he was stuck in the Seven Samurai's age, and he hated doing business with anyone who did not honor these secret codes. Arai stole a glance at Tanaka-san's face from his reflection on the mirror. It showed no hint of the same nauseating effect he was experiencing. However, Tanaka-san's stern countenance had a calming effect on him. He swallowed and prayed hard for the Gods' blessing.
10. The White Man
“What are you doing here? This floor is by appointment only.” The receptionist got up from her desk immediately to stop Arai and his boss from invading the 47 th floor any further than they already did with her arms spread out in front of them, as if she was herding wandering cattle at the tip of a sharp cliff.
“Maybe we shouldn't have come here,” Arai whispered nervously to his boss.
“We work here,” he said to the receptionist.
“You work here?” The suspicion was higher than the national debt of Japan. “Get back down!” She ordained. Arai was about to back his way into the elevator, which was still there with its door held open by the docile elevator conductor who had by now realized her mistake. However, Tanaka stood there unmoved. Of course, no woman could give him commands. He flashed his badge at the reception, slow enough to let her see the company's logo, but fast enough not to notice his lowly status in the company's hierarchy, and proceeded to walk behind the frosted glass panel that separated the main hall and the office area, ignoring the reception's protest.
And almost immediately, he saw the guy he wanted. The face of the company. In truth, Tanaka knew he was intruding the corporate managerial floors of DaiKe, but he couldn't help feeling a bit heroic and satisfied, to have finally come up to the top, nearly the top, of the building that he had worked for, for two decades. He was himself a manager after all, why couldn’t he walk this carpet and converse with the foreign talents like any other?
The man he was staring at was Smith. He was inside one of the many glass boxes built at the corners of the floor where conferences were held, pacing around the room as he spoke, in elegant professionalism and whole-hearted confidence, as Tanaka noted, to the caller at the other end of the conference call.
“Get this guy for me,” Tanaka instructed Arai, who was at the moment quite busy dealing with the receptionist who threatened to call security.
“What's going on?” The voice of a man asked. Tanaka turned to look at who it belonged to. No sooner than he did, he had to bow, and bow deeply, for it was the Chief Operational Officer of DaiKe, Mr. Ohayashi. So did everyone else around him, including the impertinent receptionist that had no respect. Tanaka was tempted to give her a nudge from the back so she would fall forward, face first. He relished on what could be and smiled to himself.
“They're intruders!” Her voice broke his pleasant reverie. Tanaka made a note to self that he should have done what was in his mind next time.
“No, no, no, sir...” Arai pulled out his own badge and presented it with both his trembling hands, stooping still, to the man. It proved to be difficult because Ohayashi was smaller than him.
Tanaka himself shot straight up and presented himself to the man.
“We are from the Commercial and Advertising Department. I am the manager of the second floor, overseeing the production of all multimedia projects.”
The man grunted. Tanaka continued.
“We have a filming today, but our foreign actor could not make it due to a schedule conflict that was not known to us until last minute. I need a replacement immediately, and we know that there is no better place to find a replacement for the position of the Face of DaiKe than the managerial floors of our own company. The public will find it even more appealing if they were to know we are using real personage in our commercial, not actors.”
“Really?” The man's attitude softened, as he rarely heard anything remotely as interesting as this in his time on the 47 th floor and out in the sites. “Strange, I didn't hear of the project myself.”
“It was all documented and approved by the marketing department, sir,” Arai explained, still stooping. “For sustainability...” he added the magic word of the industry.
“Ah-ha. Yes, a wonderful effort. Your name?”
“Ryuuji Tanaka.”
“Tanaka, then you must not let us down. Do you already have someone in mind as the replacement?” There was a shy smiled on his face. Tanaka knew what was coming.
“We do. It's that gentleman over there.”
“Surely you don't mean Smith-san?”
“Is there a problem?” Arai asked, like a good protégé of his newfound master. “We can rectify it immediately.”
“Smith as the Face of DaiKe... No, no,” he said, thoughtfully, without giving any explanation. “I can free up my responsibility for the afternoon. You don't want to use Smith. He's old and shriveled. Bitter. An American pig to represent our company, how is that good for us?” Ohayashi said. “We have so many other employees who would be excellent in the commercial...”
Arai's jaw dropped. Should he explain that they would like to use foreigner in the commercial, to give the compan
y a more international touch? Of course, he kept silent. And most reliably, his boss spoke up.
“Such as yourself,” Tanaka said what was on Ohayashi's mind. “But if this company were to progress and excel as one of the top material company of the World, then surely a manager of his own project should be respected of his decision on matters he knows better than others. I must say I am rarely wrong in casting actors and actresses.”
Wow. Arai thought. He must be crazy to challenge Mr. Ohayashi like this. Arai and everyone else on the floor had by now stopped breathing, except Smith, who was clueless about the fuss being made over him. His muffled murmur could be heard now with ever more clarity.
“I believe we share the same vision, right?” Tanaka said.
“You go take care of it properly.” Ohayashi said after a long moment of silence, and he walked off to another employee and started talking to him about his present work as if nothing had happened and nobody had been challenged, least himself. Tanaka smiled and walked over to knock on the glass door of the conference room in which Smith was just getting off the phone.
“You should ask Andy,” Smith explained, for the fifth time that he had not the slightest intention of appearing on Japanese national TV, not even for his company which he had dedicated his life's work to. “No, not me, no matter what.”
Tanaka, who was sitting at the end of the conference table with his back to the offices outside, crossed his arms.
“You should know that I am not leaving this room without you.” He pledged adamantly. “It has now become more than a matter of face for me. It is also a matter of my professional judgment and your capability,” he said.