Interview at Kafkaesque, Inc.

News on the job hunt: a couple of Fridays ago I decided to stop in at my local branch of AEON (which stands for Alternate Education...Or...Not?). AEON is one of the bigger-name eikaiwas, which are private conversation schools that are scattered all through urban Japan, mostly right around train stations so busy sarariimen can stop on the way home and pick up a loaf of bread and some English lessons.

I'm a little worried about the prospect of working at an eikaiwa, as pretty much the only things they're known for are 1. being depressing as hell to work at and 2. going bankrupt. "How bankrupt?", you may ask. So bankrupt that Japanese cell phone companies now make gaijin sign huge, scary contracts that stipulate that the phone company basically gets money from us forever and ever, cross our hearts and hope to die. This is to make sure that we don't do something inconsiderate like be forced to leave the country if our eikaiwa folds.

Still, what else do I have to do during the day? I'd seen posters for AEON put up throughout the nearest big train station...sure, I couldn't actually read anything on the poster, but I recognized the name and the picture of a white guy in a suit. How hard could it be to find, right [/foreshadowing]?

I put on my suit, took the trek to the Internet cafe, printed out my resume, and (4 HOURS LATER) decided to go about finding this place. I asked the smiley employee at one of the local information kiosks, in my best Japanese, "AY-ON AEKAYWA, DOKO DESU KA?" She clearly had no idea what I meant. I repeated the words in varying intonations and with a medley of gestures and nonsensical pantomimes, she brought in the other employees at the information kiosk...no good. She was able to point me in the direction of a different eikaiwa that I had already applied at, so I considered that success enough and thanked her, backing away as quickly as I could.

Disheartened, I started walking in a random direction so the info ladies could see that I had somewhere important to be and wasn't just walking in a random direction. Happily, I stumbled upon another information kiosk, where I repeated my performance. This time, I must have mimed "conversation school" better, because the lady not only pointed me in the right direction (somewhere on this block, just past the Starbucks), but she corrected my pronunciation of "Aeon"*.

My suit now dripping in sweat, I circled the block in question a few times before I finally saw a sign that seemed to indicate that Aeon shared a building with a huge arcade/pachinko parlor. I gave it a try (see earlier "nothing else to do all day" comment), and sure enough, signs indicated that Aeon was on the 7th floor. Jackpot! Relieved that I'd finally found it, I strolled into the elevator, pushed 7, and...nothing happened. Nothing lit up, nothing moved. So, I applied all of my critical thinking skills to the situation, and pushed the button a ton more times. Then I tried another elevator, with the same results. I began to notice a pattern.

In desperation, I pushed "6," figuring that, hey, 6 is closer to 7 than 1 is...maybe I could yell really loud or scale the side of the building or something. At any rate, 6 lit up and took me to an empty hallway with official-looking signs everywhere. Figuring I was as close as I would ever get, I stopped in the bathroom, got out my resume, combed my hair, had a breathmint, and steeled my nerves. Not like it mattered; the elevator still wouldn't take me up any further.

Again in desperation, I tried a door on the 6th floor that had a picture of stairs on it. You can imagine my relief when the door opened to the stairwell. Ah, now I was getting somewhere!

I hiked up to the 7th floor (mussing up my hair and sweating up my suit even more), put on my best, most genki smile, and opened the door. Wait, no, I didn't. It was locked. So, in fact, was the door to the 6th floor. See diagram.

The stairwell at the Aeon/Pachinko Co, Ltd.

Laughing in glee at my hilarious misadventure ("Ha ha!" were my exact words), I tried every successive door on each floor, noticing that I was the only one on this stairwell. The one on the 1st floor opened, giving me hope that I might escape death by starvation/panic attack yet. I found myself at some kind of boiler room/office where some 6 or 7 bejumpsuited men were congregating for reasons I will never know. I summoned up my best Japanese and explained carefully, "AEON EIKAIWA?"

They asked me if I was a teacher. Having caught on that certain things might have to be sacrificed to reach my goal (like the truth), I told them that I was. They said a lot of things, mostly involving the word "yasumi," meaning break. I nodded enthusiastically, telling them that, yes, I was a teacher on break. Why else would I have been hanging out in my suit in the stairwell? Ha ha!

One of them finally took me to the same elevator that I had used. He pushed "7," giving me a nice opportunity for a smug (if bitter) smile when nothing happened. He spoke into a walkie-talkie for a minute or so, though, and sure enough, the elevator took us up to the 7th floor. All the lights were off, and there was a big steel shutter over the only door in the hallway (in retrospect, the shutter does seem a little unnecessary in the way of security). On the shutter was a small piece of paper that seemed to explain that Aeon was on summer break until Monday.

I gave the guy as harmless a laugh as I could, going for expressing something like, "Ha ha! Wow, I must've just forgot that the school where I work is on vacation! What a hilarious misunderstanding!" Neither of us spoke in the long elevator ride back down.

Epilogue: I returned on Monday, again in my suit, this time with the bitter confidence of knowing that this experience couldn't possibly be any more frustrating than the previous Friday (in case it was, I came prepared with a cyanide capsule). The school was open, but a young guy explained to me that they didn't deal with applications there, that I should go to their website if I wanted to apply.

I swear to god I heard a sad-trombone "Wah wah wah" at that point.

* It bears mentioning that I ran a three-year ongoing RPG campaign that prominently featured the word "Aeon." Yes, people corrected me then, too...pretty much every week. Gorram it.