Forget Harder or Smarter, Work More

I've been having a hard time getting accustomed to working full-time. Blame my generation (hell, everyone else does). I know, I know, it's something that everyone has to get used to, if it wasn't work they wouldn't call it "work," a penny saved is a penny earned, cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, I am the walrus, etc. etc. I think my problem is amplified, though, by starting full-time work here in Japan: up until now, I've worked solely as a dishwasher, a Toys R Us "associate," a teaching assistant, and a pizza delivery driver (in that order) -- all less than 20 hours per week, each one requiring little more than a pulse and a pair of pants -- and now I've plunged into the most hardcore dedicated workforce this side of the Doozers from Fraggle Rock. Or, put another way, having taken my first tentative baby steps, I've decided to skip walking and running and go straight to bareback elephant riding.

A staple of pop culture for much of the 1980s (if my old school Dilbert anthologies are to be believed) is the idea that Japan has marshaled its workers into almost superhuman efficiency. Putting aside the current state of the economy, for a long time in American business there was a struggle to be more like the Japanese. I realize this ambition has probably been dead for a long time, but let me just put it to rest for any employers in America: your employees will never, ever be as committed or loyal as Japanese employees. Ever. You can give your employees all kinds of incentives and benefits to being invested in the well-being of the company, you can hand out salary incentives and profit-sharing and overtime and benefits (none of which they do in Japan), you can copy the Japanese exactly and have your employees do calisthenics and retreats and mandatory bonding activities, but you'll never, ever conquer the fact that they will always prefer to be somewhere else. There's just something magic about employee behavior in Japan that can't be replicated elsewhere. Even if Japanese employees hate their job and everything about it, they keep that free will shit to themselves.

Of course, this has already been well documented on this fine website. But to give you a further example of the level of dedication I'm talking about, let me recreate a typical morning for your enlightenment:

Every morning, I roll into work at around 9:25, a full 5 minutes early (this being about 110% for me). By this time, the Japanese staff has already been in for...well, I have no way of knowing since I've never been more than 5 minutes early to work. I've heard that the day begins at 8:30, which is fun, since the school day begins at 10:30. I can only imagine what happens between 8:30 and the morning meeting at 9:30ish, when the fun really begins.

The morning meeting includes at least one of the higher-ups and anywhere between three and six helper teachers; I assume the classroom teachers have already done their own morning meeting by this point, because they've already moved down to their classes. Every day, a different participant is tasked with conducting the meeting, which means that she announces (shouts) what they will do just before doing it, i.e., "Now we are starting the morning meeting for January 27th!" First, the teachers recite the "Harumidai Kindergarten Affirmation" in unison. Now, my Japanese is somewhat sketchy (yes, still), but I can puzzle out the basics: "Today, Harumidai Kindergarten will become #1!" This is followed by reading a passage aloud from the official Harumidai Kindergarten teacher's book, typically a story or anecdote about friendship or opportunity or motivation or some crap. This, too, involves everyone shouting in unison. Side note: absolutely anything sounds creepy as hell when it's read aloud in perfect unison by a group of people.

Next, some issues of the day are discussed. I tune this part out, since it's usually pretty boring, but I should at least mention that there is a strict protocol for posture and body language during meetings, all of which was demonstrated in a 3-hour seminar given by our principal last year, every word of which I expect to hear again in a few months. The end of the meeting is my favorite part:

1. The meeting leader announces that the meeting is over.

2. At the top of their lungs, everyone chants, "私たちは空いている！" twice. I've had a damn hard time figuring this one out, since "空いて" means "empty" in the same sense as "my stomach is empty" or "the bathroom is unoccupied," so the teachers are essentially saying "WE ARE EMPTY!" I've been told that it has connotations of being receptive and eager, but still. Damn.

3. The meeting leader directs them to clap. Which they do, for about 3 seconds. Again, yes, in unison.

4. The meeting leader directs them to stop clapping, so they punctuate their applause with three synchronous claps, like, CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

5. The meeting leader directs them to bow.

6. They (informally) thank each other. For...something. Clapping well? Probably for putting up with their clapping, and for helping them become as empty as they can.

As with all the bowing, the souvenirs, the frequent working weekends, the late hours (junior teachers are expected to be the last to leave), and the expectation that medical leave be accompanied by copious apologies and repeated explanations of one's illness to every staff member, the morning meeting wouldn't really fly in other places.

Of course, it's conditions like this that make Japan such an appealing place for people outside the system. This is how good cars get made. When a friend from Pittsburgh came to visit, he kept commenting on how sparkling clean Osaka is, which is especially striking because Osaka is considered one of Japan's dirtiest cities (it could have something to do with Pittsburgh, but that's neither here nor there). Why is Japan so clean? Because shopkeepers are expected to wash the sidewalk in front of their store every day. Because schools don't employ janitors since the school is cleaned every day by the teachers and students as part of the school day. Because, in short, doing shitty demeaning tasks like scrubbing tea kettles and cleaning mud is, depending on the day, part of your job, and in Japan, your job is what you do. I know that Americans do what's expected of them at their job, but I put it to you: if you showed up to work one day and it was just suddenly understood that all employees were expected to perform some new menial cleaning or organizational task, what would your reaction be? Would you protest? Quit? Grumble, at least?

Of course, on the other hand, maybe there's something to all this. Yeah, it kind of sucks for everyone with a job, but there's something to be said for destigmatizing everyday tasks, right? In the States, cleaning up after other people is something beneath us, something reserved for the invisible lower class, millions of people who sort our garbage and pick up after our kids and wash our filthy toilets whom we'd prefer not to think about. Consequently, by choosing to keep the tasks necessary to modern life secret, we push the needs and misfortunes of the working classes out of our mind, which can only contribute to the increasing impossibility of life for the working poor.

What do you think? Putting aside the whole team spirit thing that weirdly persists past high school, would it do the West some good to learn to clean up after itself? Or is too much of our life already claimed by Work to be expected to dedicate still more time and energy and dignity to our employers?