I stay locked up in my room for the rest of the day. I don’t even go back out for meals. There will be plenty of time to explore after I’ve wowed the team with my ideas. Instead, I order room service. They bring up a bento box with small compartments of food, all presented so prettily that I almost don’t want to eat it.
By Monday morning, I’m well rested, well dressed and ready to kick some butt.
I actually remember how to get back to the office this time and arrive early. Sarah is already there, but I can’t see David yet.
Good.
“Hey! I’m glad you made it. How did it all go?”
“Really well. I have some fantastic ideas. David won’t know what hit him.”
“Excellent. Let me show you around and then you can get started.”
She points out the stationery room, the kitchen, the bathrooms and all the exits.
The office is mostly open plan with small tables all grouped together in blocks like in a restaurant. Each workspace is tiny and there’s no room for anything apart from a PC. They’re older computers than I’m used to working with. As a graphic designer, I prefer new technology. I wonder if they’ll let me use my laptop; it will take way too long to create anything on the work computer. I would have thought they’d have cutting edge Macs, but apparently not.
I start up a word processor and begin madly typing up my report. At this rate, I’ll have most of it done by Wednesday.
The surrounding seats are empty but they gradually fill up. I recognise the geeky Coke bottle glasses guy and a couple of the others from the baseball game. The seat at the head of the table is empty, but I can guess who it belongs to.
At ten to nine, David shows up and takes his place. He looks over at me, pretending to be mildly interested.
“Ah, I see you’re all settled in. And I suppose you’ve also read my memo about what’s required of you.”
I smile sweetly. “Of course. No problem. In fact, I’ve already made a start over the weekend. You’ll have everything you need with plenty of time to spare.”
For a second he looks annoyed. “Oh. Well…uh…that’s great. Keep up the good work.”
He hides behind his computer screen, doing a pretty poor job of acting busy. I can tell he’s frustrated that his ploy to ruffle me hasn’t succeeded.
I ignore everyone and get back to work. I can’t wait to see his face when I present my proposal.
At lunchtime, a little bell chimes and everyone files into the cafeteria. A lunch lady wheels around a trolley with bento boxes for everyone. I’m really starting to like the Japanese way of eating.
Geeky Coke Bottle Glasses Guy introduces himself as Yoshi. He sits down next to me to practice his English.
“You are great baseball player, Jessica.”
“Thank you, Yoshi. I think it was an accident, but I appreciate you saying so. Have you always lived in Osaka?”
“Oh no. I am just here for work. My hometown is in Oita prefecture.”
“Is that far from here?”
“Yes, very far. You know Beppu?”
“No, sorry. I’ve only been here for a few days.”
“You only just arrive in Japan?”
“Yes. From Australia.”
“Ah. Or-stray-rya.” He nods thoughtfully while he pronounces it. “My friend went to Cairns and then Sydney.”
“Ah. Have you been?”
“No. I want to. I want to see kangaroo and koala.”
“My family has a koala in their garden at home.”
“Wow!” His eyes bug out.
“I know.” I picture the overgrown bush in my parents’ backyard with a pang of sadness. I spent a lot of time exploring that garden as a kid—it was my own private kingdom. Then I remember that I haven’t called Mum and Dad yet to let them know I’ve arrived.
“You are lucky.”
“Thanks Yoshi, I know.”
I’ve barely thought about home since I arrived. It’s only been a few days, but it feels like forever since the homeless incident.
And Luke…
Oh! I never checked whether I added him as a friend on Facebook!
I’ll need to figure that out tonight. Sarah mentioned they block Facebook on our work computers.
The intercom blares, and a peppy little tune begins to play. I stare around the room as everyone stands up and sings with fervour. I don’t understand a word but it’s quite a sight to behold. I can’t see Sarah to ask her what’s going on, but David is on the other side of the room singing heartily and waving his hands as if he’s conducting a pub sing-along.
How odd.
***
After lunch, I get back to work. I e-mail Sarah to ask why everyone was singing madly at lunchtime and she informs me it’s the company song. Apparently the more enthusiasm you put into it, the more devoted you are to the firm.
Huh.
I guess I should learn the words then. It might get me in with upper management.
At five, my team packs up to leave. I follow suit, switching off my computer and making sure my desk is clean and tidy.
David makes no move to leave. He looks up.
“Most of us work until seven,” he says pointedly.
“But everyone else…”
“Never mind everyone else. You can either stay and show that you’re worthy of this assignment, or you can leave and slack off like the others. Your company picked you to come here for a reason. Show me that you can do your job.”
I grind my teeth, but force a smile.
“Of course.” I switch my computer back on and open my notebook.
Yoshi gives David a strange look as he leaves, but David pretends not to notice.
***
At 6:50pm, I begin to pack up again. I’m exhausted. The rest of the floor is empty except for the two of us.
“I think I’ll call it a night, David.”
“If you must. Oh, and one thing before you go.”
I stop expectantly. Is he going to thank me for staying on later than everyone else? Finally show some appreciation for all the hard work I’ve been doing so far?
“I want to see all of your ideas tomorrow morning. Seeing as you’re so well prepared, I’m sure you won’t mind if we bring the deadline forward.”
“But you said Friday! And that’s already a lot less time than I’m used to.”
“We do things differently here, remember?” David lectures. “You should know that by now. So is there a problem?”
Bastard.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll have a report for you in the morning.”
“Fantastic. See you bright and early.”
I leave the office quietly, but then stomp down the hall, almost praying for another earthquake. If a wall fell on him, that smirk wouldn’t last long.
There’s only so much a girl can take.
TEN
On my way home, I buy a couple of cans of something called Chu-Hi. I figure they’re the Japanese version of alcopops back home. They’re really cheap and I get them out of a vending machine on the street. They wouldn’t last five seconds with the teenagers at home. How do they monitor that kind of thing here? Japanese kids must be really well behaved.
Just near my hotel is a stall with a man cooking little balls of octopus. He looks so friendly that I feel obligated to try his food.
He takes my money and hands me a small box with six of the balls covered in sauce and some sort of brown flaky stuff on top. He also gives me a toothpick to eat them with.
I wait until I get back to the sanctuary of my room before I try them. I don’t want to offend anyone by spitting them out if they’re gross.
But at first mouthful, I’m in heaven. Why don’t we have these back home? Why have I never seen anything like them before? I must have been going to the wrong Japanese restaurants in Australia.
I wash them down with my Chu-Hi. It’s not fancy by any means, but it’s exactly what I wanted.
I finish it all far too quickly and I still feel a
bit wired from my first day in the office, so I pop open my duty-free vodka and swig straight from the bottle.
I soon have a nice buzz going. My heart rate has slowed and everything is great again. I decide to ignore the worrying concern that I might be bordering on alcoholism. Isn’t drinking alone the first sign of a problem?
I have a brainwave. I won’t be drinking alone if I’m talking to someone. But it’s too expensive to call home and I haven’t bought a calling card yet. Maybe writing e-mails is just as acceptable.
And what about Luke? I still haven’t worked out what happened the other day after the earthquake.
I quickly open my laptop and log on to Facebook. I scan my friend list for a Luke.
Nope. Not there. I denied his friend request.
Maybe I can find him again. What was his surname? It started with an M. Martin? Mitchell? Milne? I’ve got it! Miller! I type in Luke Miller and get over one-hundred results. This is going to take forever!
I scan through the miniature pictures but can’t see the one from the other day. Could he have changed his profile photo already?
After half an hour, I give up. This is useless. Why couldn’t he have a unique name? I’m sure there are hardly any guys out there called Tarquin. Although, I’m not sure what kind of Australian guy would have a name like Tarquin.
I compose a message to Alex instead, telling him about my experiences so far. Before I know it, I’ve written several pages about how I didn’t realise I was going to be stuck here for up to a year, and then how horrible David is, but how cool Japan is, but then also how I kind of miss Luke even though we’ve never really had a proper conversation and now he thinks I don’t want to be friends with him on Facebook.
I end the message telling Alex how much I love him, and how I’m going to miss him and I want him to come and visit as soon as he can get the time off work. I’ve probably gone a bit overboard, but Alex will understand.
***
I can’t believe I’m back at work again already. It feels like I only just left. I’ve done the occasional all-nighter in the past, but I would have thought they’d go easy on me here in my first week.
My head is throbbing. Those drinks last night were a bad idea. This could quite possibly be my first hangover. So all this time, all I had to do was buy cheap Japanese liquor and I would know what the rest of the world was experiencing after a big night out. It’s typical that it would happen on a day when I needed to keep it together.
David is sitting expectantly at his desk. The others haven’t arrived yet. It’s obvious that he’s waiting to see if I’ll crack.
“So, Jessica, let’s look at what you have for us.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?”
“Don’t be silly. They won’t be in for at least an hour. And besides, they won’t understand half of what you’re saying. Best to tell me first and I’ll brief them later.”
“Right. Okay, well, I’ve put together a bit of a presentation.”
I hand him a bound booklet. I especially went to a printing place on the way in to get it done. It looks impressive, even if I do say so myself.
He takes it gingerly, obviously not expecting me to be so well prepared.
“Also, if you want to open the shared drive and find the file called Graphics in the marketing folder, you can launch the PowerPoint presentation I made to accompany the booklet.” He raises an eyebrow in silence, but obliges.
I take a breath and switch to presenter mode.
“Okay, so what I would like to do is overhaul the entire Bella image. You currently have a 1.5% market share in the local cosmetics and toiletries market. I believe by updating the logo and running a couple of savvy advertising campaigns you could increase that market by at least another 0.5% in the next twelve months.”
David nods. He’s clearly discomfited by the fact that I know all the business figures. I don’t normally get involved with the numbers, as my job is to purely create the artwork, but I know it’s an important part of justifying my argument in this case.
“Your colours are a bit insipid. The greeny-yellow colour doesn’t represent beauty at all. And the pink is too girly.”
David interjects. “You may not have noticed, but many Japanese women under the age of 35 relate to the colour pink.”
“Yes, but I believe you need a more sophisticated image. I’m sure women would find something like this much more appealing.”
I open to a page in the booklet and click on the corresponding slide in my PowerPoint presentation.
I can immediately sense David’s approval. But then he quickly remembers where he is and frowns again.
“Tell me your logic.”
“Well, I’ve chosen a medium Persian blue for the primary colour. This symbolises wealth and self-cultivation. I think you can capitalise on the idea of encouraging women to educate themselves about buying beautiful organic products as part of your campaign. I don’t think you need the word products in your logo, so I’ve shortened it to just Bella Beauty. I’ve used gold to also symbolise wealth and sophistication. It will only be used as an accent on labelling and very sparingly in advertising. But I think it’s necessary to add that bit of sparkle and make the product look expensive.”
He’s quiet for a minute. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin. He flicks through the other pages in my book and asks to see the rest of the slides. They are all variations on the same concept. I’ve mocked up some ads and even some example labels. I’m very well prepared.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Jessica. I can see you’ve put a lot of work into this, but it’s just not what we’re after. I can tell you now that if I take this to Hiroshi, he’ll throw it out immediately. It just doesn’t appeal to our target market.”
I stare at him, surprised. I knew he was going to try and make things difficult, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.
“David,” I start reasonably. “You’ve been doing the same thing for the past five years and you’ve hired my company to help out. I would have assumed you were ready for a change in direction.”
“We are. But I just think this is too drastic. We’ll have a heck of a time convincing management to change the corporate colours. Do you know the cost involved in re-printing all the product labels, not to mention internal marketing materials?”
“But if you just look at my report, it takes all that into consideration,” I explain patiently. “I’m suggesting a staggered approach where we gradually switch over. We don’t have to do it all at once, and we can phase it all in as the old materials run out.”
“Look, I appreciate the effort, but this method just won’t work. I need you to start over, this time using the original colours and something more in line with our existing corporate image.”
I almost burst into tears. How am I supposed to work like this?
“Fine.” I close down the PowerPoint and take back my report.
“Just leave the report for now. We might be able to salvage something,” he offers consolingly.
I spin around and hurry towards the elevator. I need some air.
“Where are you going? It’s almost nine. We start work in a few minutes.”
“I’m just going to the bathroom. If that’s okay with you?”
“Of course. But don’t be long.”
I’m so upset, I want to leave and not come back. But I know that’s exactly what David expects—for me to cave in and beg for mercy. So I can’t call it quits yet. Apart from the obvious incentive of a promotion when this is all over, I’m just starting to get to know Sarah—and the rest of the team seem quite nice too. If I make a fuss, then David will contact my office at home and tell them I’m not up for the job. I’m just going to have to stick it out until the big meeting with Hiroshi. I’m sure everything will be fine after that.
I sneak downstairs and grab a coffee from one of the thousands of vending machines dotted around the city. I’m becoming quite partial to them. The one outside has a row
of hot canned drinks. My friends at home would shudder in horror at the idea of a canned latte.
I go back up and pretend everything’s fine. Yoshi gives me a little wave and the others nod a brief acknowledgment. David ignores me, although I know he’s aware of my presence.
I can’t concentrate. I’m silently fuming. I really don’t want to start all over with a terrible colour scheme and an old-fashioned advertising campaign. But I have no choice. I open up Illustrator and start drawing up some new ideas using the icky yellow and pink.
***
As the week wears on, David gets more and more demanding. And annoying. He orders me to stay behind every evening, even when I’m sure everyone else in the building has gone home. We sit at opposite ends of the table, typing away and pretending that the other isn’t there.
He asks me to do inane tasks like fetch him coffee, which I know is definitely not part of my position description, but I do it anyway to show I’m a team player. I’m surprised he isn’t worried that I’ll spit in it or pop in a laxative or something.
On Thursday I have to photocopy an entire five-hundred page binder of some marketing report from last year. It is an incredible waste of my time, but I bite my tongue because I’ve managed to come up with another angle for the Bella project. It’s using similar colours to the old logo, but a much nicer font. I’ve tweaked the yellow to a more pleasant gold. David hopefully won’t notice, but it makes a big difference. And I’ve changed the pink to a sophisticated shade of scarlet. I even came up with a couple of great print advertisements using photos of cherry blossoms I found online. If they want the same old stuff, I’ll give them the same old stuff. But better.
I avoid David as much as possible. He asks to see my new ideas, but I fake a meeting with Sarah in the afternoon so I don’t have to show him. I’m going to present everything when Hiroshi arrives on Friday morning. I can’t bear the thought of being shot down again with no time left over to re-work my ideas.
***
Meanwhile, in the couple of hours I have outside of the office each day, I fall more and more in love with Japan. I love the noise and the chaos and the people. I never feel lonely, even though I hardly know anyone. It’s exhilarating. I understand what Sarah means about not having to worry about judgment from your family and friends.
Zen Queen Page 9