Stick to Guessing Weights

An important part of living abroad is learning to reexamine your snap judgments that you rely on for daily life; for example, if I were to purchase some ice cream at the grocery store, I may not be able to trust my inherent assumption that something marked "Ice Cream" would not contain any tentacles or moving parts. One of the things that's hardest to get used to is probably our complete inability to accurately guess the age of anyone in Japan.

This is no big secret, really. When I accompanied Jenn to the Jet Alumni Association meeting in Kansas City, they separated the men and the women for gender-specific talks. I can only imagine the things covered in the Lady Talk, but I can only assume from the last time there were organized Man Talks and Lady Talks that it was something about flowers and bees (also, that mocking a teenage girl about menstrual issues will cause her to develop telekinetic superpowers and slay an entire high school class). The man talk entailed athlete's foot, some extremely self-satisfied discussion of the size of Japanese condoms, and a caveat that any attractive woman a gaijin male will hit on will be at least 40 years old. Ask any gaijin: when judging the age of a Japanese person, subtract at least ten years from whatever you assume at first.

For instance, just look at the Japanese Minister of Defense (right).

Scientists are at a loss as to what causes this effect...whatever it is, it's probably related to the fact that the Japanese also do not sweat. Hell, maybe it's prolonged exposure to Hello, Kitty. It could be something in the air (plastic?), though, as some of the gaijin I've known to live here for five or more years also seem to be immune to the effects of aging. Whatever the case, I've learned that some Japanese people can be somewhat touchy about this subject, taking intended compliments about their youthful appearance to mean that they look "childish." I'll just be careful when dealing with my new boss next week:

I believe he has three children.

Traditional Japanese Culture. In the Butt.

Yes, as alluded to in yesterday's dispatch, I, Harry Althoff, am once more among the ranks of the Working. I don't really have too many details yet, but I can tell you that I will be teaching English at a kindergarten. Yes, ol' Harry's comin' up in the world!

At this rate, I'll be teaching English to babies by this May, and by September I can retire, I guess.

The interview process was considerably mellower than at Berlitz; I was interviewed by two youngish American guys -- wearing a near-complete Luigi costume and a basic Old Navy get-up respectively -- and a very smiley Japanese woman who was cracking up over the two Americans the whole time. They spoke to me in the Sun Room (just down the hall from Acorn Room and Grapes Room), where I planted my be-suited butt in the tiniest, most frail-looking chair in the world. The whole thing had a kind of Alice in Wonderland vibe, really.

They let me know last Friday that, though it's still tentative, I've got the job! No idea what my hours or commitments will be at all, but they'll let me know on my first day (not ideal, but better than finding out about that stuff on the second or third day). I've been told that the kids' enthusiasm is really infectious (speaking of, I heard one of the teachers carefully explain to some students the importance of hand-washing...they repeated "no in-flu-en-za" after him). I was also asked in a phone interview if I had any real problems with being hit by small plastic shovels or being called a doo-doo head. Hey, every occupation has its hazards, right? As long as they don't have cell phones.

The one thing I am worried about is a traditional bit of Japanese culture called "kancho," pictured in yesterday's blog post, which is very common with younger children. Because it's fun, here's another picture:

I don't think "fun" means the same thing in Japanese, actually.

As you might be able to guess, "kancho" is something that kids do to each other and to slow-moving grownups: they...well, they jam their fingers into a rather delicate area and yell "kan-CHO!" I can't imagine why we don't have a word for this in English...oh, wait, we do: "sexual assault." Culturiffic!

To sum up: Harry's career has just gone from this...


...to this:


Sweet deal.

Interview at Mephistopheles, Inc.

First, a few notes for those of you following along at home:

1. I'll be blogging every day this week, assuming I can find enough hilarious photos on Google Images to fill that much.
2. Big ups to Raku Cafe and our good friends over at Radies and Radishes. They are...well, rad.
3. I got a job. More on this later this week, promise (unless I find more important things to talk about -- like, say, melon soda -- and run out of time). In the meantime, here's a hint of what I'm in for:

Out.

Waaaay back when, you may recall that I had an "interview" with one of the more behemoth eikaiwas, Aeon, which devolved into a nightmarish spiral into confusion and madness. And sweat. Plus, I didn't actually get interviewed by anybody.

Well, last Monday I managed to get a real, actual interview with a live human bei...well, we'll get to that, but in any case, I was called in for an interview by Berlitz. A group interview, as it happens; I've been told that it's not unusual for group interviews to involve pop quizzes or pitting the applicants against one another to see who wants the job more (I prepared some notes for what to say in the event of physical combat, such as "I surrender unconditionally"). Still, terrified though I may have been, it's not like I had much else to do on a Monday, and I really could use that job. Also, there was a bagel place right next door that I'd been wanting to try (dear Japan: A+ for effort but D for taste when it comes to your Soy Milk and Edamame bagel and your Green Tea and White Chocolate bagel).

I'd had experience with ESL job interviews before, of course. Playing up my greatest strength of sheer desperation, my usual MO involved agreeing to anything and everything immediately. Work on weekends? No travel recompensation? Live badgers? Yes sir, I'm your man! So far it's had about a 50-50 success rate.

This one was different from other interviews, though. Being ushered into a smallish conference room with two other youngish dudes, we were greeted by a middle-aged American in a sharp suit. He looked like Tim Curry's boring younger brother, with a goatee usually worn by some of the more reputable demons and eye bags you could smuggle cats in. I should have been tipped off that something was wrong right at the start when I saw that the interviewer had the all-time biggest movie tip-off for an evil character: slicked-back hair.

Still, I kept positive and copied down the Berlitz Five Principles from a poster on the wall into my notebook. They seemed pretty easy to get behind, though in retrospect, the fact that the first one read "Total Customer Orientation" should have tipped me off; I believe that's the same first Principle of Ford, Microsoft, and Burns Nuclear Power.

The interviewer started by asking us the only two questions he would ask for the entire interview: "Are you familiar with Berlitz products?" and "Do you have a work visa?" (I think I did pretty well at those). He then proceeded to give us a historical rundown of the Berlitz company. Among other fascinating tidbits, I learned that Berlitz is now a wholly-owned subsidiary of Benese Holdings, a Japanese company owned by the #137 richest man in the world that also invests in toys and silver. I tried to ignore the tingling I started to get at the base of my neck at this point.

He then walked us through the contracts for Berlitz's Full-Time, Part-Time, and Private Lesson positions. This took us about half an hour, after which he mentioned that they were only hiring for Private Lessons. I stopped taking notes at this point. As the gentleman walked us through all of the manifold generous benefits offered to employees of Berlitz, I got the strangest feeling that he was trying to sell us something; it's nice to be pursued by an employer, but not by one who gives off an unmistakable used car salesman vibe (perhaps I would have to sell Tupperware or magazine subscriptions during lessons?). Among those benefits, incidentally: we can take Berlitz Language Courses for less than the usual rip-off rate they charge, and we get to use a select number of Worldwide Resorts at a discount! Also, we are forbidden from working for any of Berlitz's eikaiwa rivals like Aeon. There's that tingling again...

Towards the end of the talk, he bottom-lined us: "This is not a school," he said, flatly, hands clasped on the table. "Berlitz is not recognized as a school by the Japanese Ministry of Education. It's a corporation. We have a duty to our stockholders first. The product that we sell just happens to be language services." It was about at this point that I noticed that the interviewer didn't cast a shadow.

The hard sell continued into the informal questions period, when he reminded us all that Berlitz had more than 500 schools worldwide, and that if we would agree to a Training Session (I could only assume that the Training Session would involve the Ludovico Technique), we could find employment at any of them. He chuckled as he continued: "I can think of no other organization in the world that offers that kind of opportunity for travel. Except (laugh) the Peace Corps, and they don't pay as much as we do." I smiled manically. Ha ha! Yep, those volunteers sure are suckers! Maybe they should look to the Five Principles for guidance!

I signed the Post-Interview Questionnaire (surprisingly, not in blood), somehow keeping myself from scrawling "OH GOD STOP THEM BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE" at the bottom. I still haven't gotten a call back. Go fig.

Psychophotofunkagenic

Well, Harry is now doing his part for the burgeoning Unemployment economy (you're welcome): my contract at Sakishima expired on Wednesday, and I am now officially re-unemployed after having worked my final day on Friday (a long, gross, and unless I add some good lies about bikini-clad space pirates, extremely boring story). Time to return to my former position as King of the Laundry.

And so now I humbly return to my typical job hunting activities. Feels like it was just yesterday that I was going through the process:

1. Breakfast
2. Look on some employment websites
3. Second Breakfast
4. Coffee
5. Lunch
6. Daily Show
7. Update my resume with some good lies (fun facts from Harry's resume: Harry Althoff spent many hours planning elaborate lessons that effectively engaged students at Sakishima High School, Harry Althoff is proficient with Microsoft Vista, Harry Althoff invented the Tivo, Harry Althoff is the capital of Moldova)
8. Grocery shopping
9. Novel writing/Snacks
   

One of the greatest tools that a freelance English teacher has for finding work in Japan is the smattering of find-a-student websites. I'm contracted with Ability English School and I have profiles on Senseibank, Mysensei, Sensei112, Gaijinpot, and S1. So far, I've accumulated a grand total of one private student, and she works at Jenn's school. Having recently finished Malcolm Gladwell's Blink and The Tipping Point, I've realized that I might not be hitting the student paydirt for a very simple reason; for this reason, I just changed my profile picture on all of these websites to see if that helps. And for good cause, too...my previous profile picture was pretty terrible:

Wait, sorry, that's my old Facebook picture. Man, I'm glad I got a haircut...

All the raw sex appeal of a young, sweaty Gerald O'Hara's yearbook photo. Nice.

Yeah, I wouldn't hire me, either. I took this photo on the day when I happened to be wearing my suit, which, by some coincidence, was also the hottest day in the history of Japan (tied, temperature-wise, with a cool spring day on the surface of the sun). If you don't know, I produce enough sweat that I'm legally classified as an illegal aquifer. Hopefully, I'll get a few more students now that I've uploaded a slightly more attractive picture of me in teaching mode:

OK, I actually brushed my hair (mostly) and put on a suit (again, mostly) for the photo. Here's a slightly zoomed-out photo.

Sound track: David Bowie, "Fame."

As long as I'm clogging the inter-web-o-pipes with photos, here's a belated Valentine's Day photo from all of us at Amazing Tales of the Gaijin Patrol:

Ironically, those heart-shaped objects are loaded with cholesterol.

...and here's a photo of Jenn's last day in America, 6ish months ago.


Compared to stuff we've seen since, this really isn't that weird. We'll upload photos of the Pikachu bus that stalks our neighborhood as soon as we can get some -- it's an elusive devil.

Apocryphanalia

Well, we're in the height of the holiday season here in Japan: the last post-Setsubun parties have died down, and yesterday was Foundation Day, a traditional day for staying home from work and, I don't know, inspecting the foundation of your house for silverfish or seepage or something. Whatever. But the Early February Holiday Season is far from over. Some people think that Japan does not celebrate Valentine's Day. Some people are fools.

A dramatization of Japanese romance.

The specifics of Japan's observance of Valentine's Day, at least in the Kansai region, are actually very interesting. In the mid-sixteenth century, before entering a period of national seclusion, several small Christian missions sprung up on Japan's shores; many of these missions were established by brothers of now-obscure monastic orders (you know, like the kind that keep cropping up in terrible Tom Hanks movies). In 1629, thousands of Christians were executed by the Tokugawa shogunate after the shogun expelled all foreigners from Japanese soil -- but, importantly, not from artifical islands such as Dejima in Nagasaki. Though Christianity was nearly eradicated at this point, some underground traditions were carried through the subsequent centuries on such artifical islands, including the esoteric practices of the French Order of St. Valentine. Currently, many Valentine's celebratory practices held over from Renaissance France are still observed in Kansai regardless of religion: on February 14th, Osakans nearly without exception meet in community "High Courts of Love," where volunteers hold mock "court" for crafting "love contracts" and hearing offences of love such as betrayal and frigidity, while local poets submit traditional rondeau and ballades to woo the objects of their affection in a highly stylized, romantic, and spiritual environment.

...Nah, just f***ing with ya. It's pretty much the same old orgy of commercialism and chocolate that they have everywhere else on Earth. The only difference is that over here, the women give chocolate (giri-choko or "obligation chocolate") to the men (and we wear shoes on our hands, cats and dogs living together, etc. etc.). Of course, men have to return the favor in March on White Day, a holiday my Japanese textbook defines as "yet another gift-giving holiday." In the meantime, here's to candy given unabashedly out of social obligation!

Had you going there, though, huh?

Happy Bean-Related Winter Holiday!

Happy Setsubun! As I'm sure you know, today is the day when all of Japan welcomes the new season (which I can only assume is Winter, Pt. 2) by eating sushi rolls and throwing beans at each other. You knew that, right? I mean, duh.

It's an occasion for great festivity, no different from the equally weird-ass Roman Feast of the Lemures. Family members put on demon masks and are pelted with hard, inedible beans by their relatives who chant rituallistically to drive out the demons and usher in the good luck. And it's not creepy at all!

Not even a little.

I'm celebrating by taking the day...well, actually, I do still have to work today. Two jobs. Yes, even though Japan has about three National Holidays per month, Bean-Throwing-Demon Day is considered of lower national import than Sports and Leisure Day. But I guess I'm observing it by working even less hard than I usually do. Also, I got a bag full of myserious objects from the school, some wrapped in plastic, most bean-shaped. I would try my luck at eating one but for the fact that I overheard two of the teachers discussing the contents of their identical bags (and for once, the meaning was clear enough that I could follow the conversation):

Teacher 1, holding up a red Jawbreaker-shaped object: "Hey, can you eat this thing?"
Teacher 2: "I don't know. I only ate the candies shaped like Anpanman."
Teachers 1 and 2: (Laughter)

So from all of us here in the Gaijin Patrol, may your demons go out and your luck go in. Beans on earth, etc.