Category: Work

You would think that the Lipovitan crystals I smoked before yesterday’s rant would have worn off by now. You would be wrong.
Today’s unwilling recipient of my hate is our company’s uniform. Specifically, the branding on it. I have actually grown quite fond of wearing a uniform to work, because it’s a hell of a lot easier than choosing barney-ass cubicle clothes every day (and hence cheaper as well, since I’m a gentle fucking giant in Japanese sizes and must import all my Dilbert-wear). However, a few years ago, my company changed vendors for our “Confederate Grays,” and said company named this line of poly-blend uniform, “EARTHINK.” Now, all of our uniform sleeves bear a white 1″ x 3″ label with “EARTHINK – RECYCLE” and a bunch of other environmental crap in Japanese printed on it. We are like walking billboards for ISO 14001, which just might be the idea, I guess, but still…. EARTHINK? What the hell is that? It nags at my conscience every few days, seriously:
Just what is EARTHINK?
EAR + THINK?
EARTH + INK?
Every Asshole Rikes To Hollering In North Korea?
So I asked my manager about it, and he replied most sagaciously, “get to work, you fucking bum.” Thus reprimanded, I cowered back to my desk. But he dropped by later, and admitted that he didn’t know what the hell it meant besides the hilariously interpretable Japanese pronunciation which is, “assinku.” I like assinku better than anything else, I guess.
I finally got around to Googling the shit today, and in its first reference to Japanese corporate uniforms, I found the following:

THE TREES IS SCREAMING! REPENT, SINNERS – EARTHINK!
And now that I have found the true meaning of EARTHINK, I can die in peace.

I was just issued this “staff support book” which outlines employee duties, good work practices, and various other goodies which are causing me great joy, because they are the best example of Japanese corporate stupidity and herdthink. The page below is entitled, “E-mail Manners.” The previous page is “Fax Manners,” and the next page is “The Proper Way to Give and Receive Instructions.”

Now, in all fairness, the tips on this particular page aren’t all bad but the sample e-mail they show is just the worst example I can possibly imagine. For instance, everything from the line of slashes on down is a signature. Also, I find the lack of an “ijo” (END) on the bottom inauthentic since every other needless piece of fluff is included (what Nam refers to as “flower language.” I mean, for crying out loud, the meaningful content of the message itself is: “I’d like to see you next week regarding the calendar we discussed the other day. It should only take an hour or so, could you please let me know a convenient time?” Do you really need twenty lines of text for that?
This is an actual case of ?manners? getting in the way of work; I do receive a lot of e-mails formatted like this and I can tell you that when reading a long thread of messages in a reply, it really gets tiresome.

One sad fact of business on a salaryman level is that an inexperienced vendor is infinitely preferable to an inexperienced client – you can always slap down a vendor, and the inexperienced ones often come back for more. Plus, slapping makes them tougher. A tough vendor is your best ally during a 15-year long economic depression.

When you are pulled away from your workstation by the ISO 14001 auditor for an impromptu interview, the correct response to the question, “Do you know your company’s environmental policy?” is NOT: “Uhhhh… I dunno, dude, like, Save the Whales?” In fact, since this is Japan, this reply may not be interpreted as amusing at all.
Pray for me – I’ve been flagged to be interviewed tomorrow morning.

Must die.
Please God, make them go away. I asked one of the girls why she was all smiles today. She said it was because the new fax machine we ordered came in this morning. She said its sparkling newness was a good omen for the rest of the week.
Oh. Well then.
The thing is, I can’t figure out if she was high on the reefer and making fun of me, or if this is just a sign that the Japanese take their trademark happy worker bee thing a bit too seriously.

I caught a guy walking off with my umbrella during lunch break. I was like, hey yo what the fuck, that’s my umbrella. The guy knew I had him, but decided to weakly claim it was his umbrella. Yet he did not protest when I snatched it out of his hands and left him in the rain. Asshole.

That goddamn line from “Under Pressure” is running around in my head again. An omen, perhaps.

I’m on another business trip. It’s late, I’m sweaty. In a suit. Wasted from a day of picking up on the subtle nuances of Japanese corporate doublespeak, flipping the sentences backwards and into another language, then funneling it down the client’s ear.
Now I’m back at the hotel with several hours worth of work ahead of me and the shrill ring of an alarm clock not mine own to look forward to in the morn.
Time to sign off, folks, but before I go, let me give you the Buddha’s One True Way to get an annoying fat gaijin perv in a middle management position to leave you alone and quit dropping hints like, “so what are Jap girls like?,” and, “so what’s the deal with those hostess clubs we passed earlier?” over a business dinner:
When he gets all drunk and alco-sentimental with your boss later on and lays pictures of his kids on the table, echo everybody’s remarks about how cute they are and what a lovely family he has, then lean over the table and hiss, “God hates sinners.”
Note: It’s all in the