Another day begins and Salaryman makes a special effort to wake up early, only to fall asleep again in the shower. He has a theory that late night computer usage is actually killing brain cells, and vows to get more sleep tomorrow. When playing with the computer, his creative juices start flowing and he can’t stop -- sometimes he can’t even stop to answer calls of nature.
With pen and paper, he is the most horrible artist that he knows. His ability level with sketching just stopped somewhere between kindergarten and third grade. His penmanship is pretty abysmal, too. But with the computer, it is different. You see, his problem with drawing is not a deficiency in creativity or vision, but rather the medium. His hand does not have the capacity to draw what his mind sees. The computer, for him, is an equalizer. Programming and conceptual geniuses have produced amazing software that allows him to express what he sees and beyond. Sometimes he finishes a graphic to his satisfaction, then lets the computer make random changes to it just for fun. Occasionally, the result is better than the original. It is during these moments that Salaryman thanks God for birthing him in this modern age instead of a few thousand years before when instead of playing around with Photoshop, he’d be rooting around in the mud for lizards and berries and shit.

For Salaryman, putting on his work uniform every morning marks his metamorphosis into Chameleon. It is a ritual he adheres to because early in the morning, playing it by ear means being late for work. Boxers first, then shirt and uniform pants. Deodorant is smeared into those hairy pits, and gel is used to fix the hair (always the same gel; he gets angry with his girlfriend for buying different brands). The uniform top goes on, and, finally, socks. Chameleon likes five-toed socks because they make his feet feel like reptilian claws. He looks into the mirror - handsome bastard!* - and goes through the rest of the morning ritual.
The ritual ends when he steps out the door, mainly because he is now in a low state of alert. At any time, he may be approached by the natives for a wide variety of reasons. They may come singly or in groups, and they may speak an incomprehensible variant of the already complex Japanese language, so Chameleon must be prepared for any contingencies. Just the other day, he passed a policeman rooting through the garbage on trash day. He was apparently doing this to find the culprit that threw away cans on burnable trash day (In Japan, trash days are often separated into three regular categories, burnable, unburnable, and recyclable; and other days appear sporadically for special trash: Newspapers, large objects, etc.) by searching through the entire garbage bag for something with a name or address on it. He addressed Salaryman roughly as he passed by: "Why do people DO this when they KNOW it’s BURNABLE TRASH DAY!"
Salaryman wanted to say, "GET A LIFE, LITTLE PIG" but the words that passed through his lips were Chameleon’s: "Why yes, officer, you are correct." Salaryman began letting Chameleon speak for him more and more, especially after he graduated university. At university, he had almost sealed his own fate by letting it be known how he felt about a certain money-grubbing, reject, should-have-been-stillborn professor (and if you are reading this now, I guess you DO take your head out of your ass sometimes). So when he graduated and was looking for employment, he asked Chameleon to take over. Chameleon had stayed in the background since Salaryman arrived in Japan, absorbing the culture, the language, and studying the proper way of doing things. Hence, it made perfect sense for Salaryman to turn over control of his life, especially since it was his goal to integrate into Japanese society to an extent that would make him indistinguishable from a Japanese citizen.
On the way to work, Chameleon is driving as Salaryman listens to the tunes. When Salaryman drives, he is a wolf among sheep, and that is not the way to be seen driving to the Company. Chameleon stops to let other cars into his lane, and returns the drivers’ bows. Salaryman thinks things like that are a blast, he even dreams of someday writing a book about all the silly stuff he sees everyday. Like how Japanese bow when they’re talking on the phone, in thanks or deference to the person they are talking to. Or how Japanese girls cover their mouths when they laugh (although this does prevent one from seeing an orthodontist’s worst nightmare). Or how the word "profuse" does not even begin to explain how a Japanese can apologize when a mistake has (or even hasn’t) been made. Salaryman has heard entire conversations consisting of 10% real content and 90% formality. Chameleon is actually quite good at this. A typical phone conversation might look like this:
(phone is picked up)
"Sorry, sorry to be calling at this time, sorry, I am _______ of_______ Company/Organization/Household (as in, "Seven of Nine").
"You always put up with our inconveniences"
"No, you are always doing us a service"
"Sorry, I would like to speak to ______."
"Sorry, could you please hold?"
"Yes, sorry"
(pause)
"Sorry, _____ is not present at this time."
"Oh really? I’m sorry, could you tell me if you know where he is (is it permissible?)?
"Oh, of course, sorry, how rude of me… Actually, I’m so sorry, but he did not say where he was going. I’m really sorry!"
"No, no, I’m sorry (for putting you in a position that makes you say that you’re sorry). I’ll try again later. Sorry (future apology for next call)!"
"Sorry! Are you sure?"
"Yes, thank you-sorry-thank you-excuse me"
"thank you-excuse me"
(waits for the person who called to hang up - listens for the click of the closing connection - and gently returns the receiver to the cradle.)

Salaryman returns from work wiped out. Today was a good day.


* Borrowed from Harry Harrison's Stainless Steel Rat, one of Salaryman's favorite authors/characters.

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