Author: Justin

So I got the call from the bank yesterday and they changed their minds about having me inside the bank, I guess. They offered to meet me on my lunch break in the union office next to our company cafeteria today. They told me to bring ID and my hanko (personal seal) to sign off on a receipt, to which I said, “no.” The guy replied I could sign my name instead of using a hanko (as if that was the problem), and I basically made up my mind to not sign a goddamn thing before going into the meeting today. I mean, I did nothing wrong, so why should I have to do anything to get back what is rightfully mine? I even mused over demanding they pay interest on the money they “borrowed” from me for 24 hours, but to be honest, I got tired of the whole damn thing and just wanted to end it quickly and painlessly.
But. The rep they sent today was a total fucking tool. First of all, he didn’t even apologize for the shit they put me through. Second, he sneered at me when he said my first name, as if it was a piece of foreign shit sullying the inside of his mouth. If you know me, you will be proud to hear that I didn’t strangle him on the spot. No, I was determined to get through this shit and forget about it as quickly as possible. However, bankboy slipped up – he didn’t check my ID and just asked me to sign a receipt. I took out a pen and pretended to read it over during which time he laid a cash envelope on the table. I counted the cash (all 25,000 was there), slipped it in my wallet, and stood up to leave.
As I exited the office, bankboy yells, “Yoshida – wait, you gotta sign this receipt!”
So now it’s Yoshida, eh? What happened to “Jasuchin,” you little bitch? I reply, “Is it gonna be a problem if I don’t? Will you be inconvenienced?”
“Yes, it will be an inconvenience!” he says.
“Good, now you’ll know how inconvenienced I felt yesterday” is the line I was waiting to drop all day, and now that I’ve used it to full effect, the girls eating lunch behind the counter are quietly cheering me on.
I walk out of the office and down the hall, and this is where the story takes a turn because – you guessed it – bankboy isn’t ready to let the matter drop. No, he decides it’s time for physical confrontation. He lets out a kiai, grabs my shoulder from behind, then gets in front of me, blocking my path with his body and grabbing the front of my work uniform. Then, he is grabbing for air and grabbing the wall, because somehow my body remembered how to be a defensive lineman after all these years and sent him flying without slowing down for even a second.
I did not look back.
It will be interesting to see if they come after me in some way – through my company or the union, or even the authorities (there’s my hard-wired paranoia circuit kicking in). But I won’t lose any sleep over it. Stupid fucks.
UPDATE: They DID come after me. Surprise, surprise. Luckily, my company LOVES me and stood behind me all the way. A couple of my supervisors came to see me and were as apologetic as the bank shoud have been. I explained the matter in detail and finally decided to sign the receipt (which the supervisors were passed from the bank) because it would have inconvenienced my company, who as far as I’m concerned is a completely innocent and unrelated party in this matter. However, I was adamant about having the bankboy reprimanded for being unapologetic and more importantly, physically assaulting me, and the supervisors promised to get on the bank’s ass about it for me. So… Closure. Sweet, sweet closure.
I FOUGHT THE LAW AND THE LAW GOT BODY-CHECKED.

During lunch break I went to one of the ATMs next to our company cafeteria and tried to withdraw 25,000 yen. The transaction went smoothly until the very last step – my bank card and the receipt came out of the machine, but when the cash drawer opened, the machine suddenly seized up with squeaking cacophony of bill-shredding grinds and the drawer slammed shut, leaving me empty-handed. The revolving status indicator spun sickeningly for a brief instant and finally landed on OUT OF ORDER. I glanced at my relection on the two-way glass panel from which I was doubtlessly being recorded and saw my jaw drop in a classic “WTF?” reaction.
I consciously shook off my surprise and picked up the service phone adjacent to the ATM. Twenty rings later, a sweet voice answered. The following conversation ensued:
“Hello, this is Roukin ATM Service Center”
“Hi, your ATM just died before spitting out my 25,000 yen and I’m on my lunchbreak…”
“Name, please”
(pause) “Justin Yoshida”
“OK, Yoshida-sama, please give me a number where we can contact you.”
“Say what?”
“Your phone number”
“Why the hell do you need my phone number? Just send someone out to give me my money.”
“That’s not the way it works – just go about your business and someone will be sent out to fix the machine later, after which somebody from the sales department will call about returning your cash. They will be calling you as soon as possible.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m holding a receipt that says you paid me 25,000 yen which I NEVER RECEIVED and as far as I know is just stuck in the cash drawer and you think I’m gonna fucking WALK AWAY FROM THE MACHINE BECAUSE SOMEONE ON THE PHONE SAID IT WAS OK? You could be in Lagos for all I know! NOW SEND SOMEONE TO FIX THE FUCKING MACHINE AND GIVE ME MY MONEY!”
“Sir, all of repairmen are out at lunch righ-”
“DAMMIT! I’m on MY fucking lunchbreak, too! And I know this may be hard to comprehend, but you might consider the reason I needed some of that money was to buy LUNCH!”
“I’m terribly sorry sir, but standard procedure requires me to inform you that repair personnel will be sent as soon as possible and that a representative from sales will be in touch with you as soon as possible.”
“Now that you’ve mentioned it twice, just exactly when is ‘as soon as possible?'”
“Hmmm… Well, it will probably be sometime tomorrow.”
“MOTHERFUCKER SAY WHAT?”
“What, sir?”
“Now I’m fucking pissed – I want a repairman here right fucking NOW.”
“Sir, as I’ve stated before, standard procedure calls fo-”
“That’s it, I’m hanging up to go get a hammer.”
Instead, I hung around out of sight of the cameras (in retrospect, why?). The repairman showed up in five minutes. I felt sorry for the guy because he had a grain of rice hanging off his chin and really must have been called off lunch so I didn’t give him any shit. Plus, he was obviously a third party serviceman and not directly related to the stupid bank. He cleared the machine and called to confirm if he could hand me over the 25,000… At which point, the Bank from Hell decided to give me more shit and insist, again, even though the money was in my sight, that a sales rep would call me and they would handle it that way. I halfheartedly argued with the twats for a few minutes, but I really wasn’t getting anywhere… So I pulled the trump card.
I got a bank manager on the phone and started accusing them of racial discrimination, on the basis that their decision to wait a day before rectifying the situation was made only after they had asked my name and confirmed SOP for dealing with gaijin and couldn’t he make it easy on EVERYONE INVOLVED by doing the eight thing and authorizing the repairdude to hand me over the cash (that by the way I paid a nominal service charge to withdraw)?
Apparently not.
The manager said I’m going to have to go to the bank to get my cash, but not until after they find out what went wrong with the machine in the first place (like that’s my fucking problem).
Cunts.
So now I’m waiting for the call from the sales rep, who the manager has promised will call before the end of the day. They better not assign a newbie, because I swear on all that’s holy, I am going to make that motherfucker cry over the phone. Then if they really do force me to pick up the money at the bank, I’m going to…
– To Be Continued… –