kyoiku mama

Common Sense: WTF is that?

May 8, 2009 0:46 am
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Common Sense.

Mothers where I come from pound that stuff into their kids’ heads. With a baseball bat if necessary.

The Great State of California has strict “child endangerment” laws – bad/stupid/ignorant parents can be sent to jail for putting their kids in harm’s way.

Japan, the country with the amazing shrinking population, you would think treasures and protects its children.

As John Belushi always used to say, “But, noooooo!”

* Mother leaves kid in car to play pachinko. Kid asphyxiates. Mother wins box of Hello Kitty Pocky.

* Father drives car wearing seat belt (there’s a law). Kid is bouncing around between seats. Sudden stop, kid does Superman impersonation through windshield.

* Kids have to go to juku cram schools after school. Walk home alone at night. Kids get murdered and crammed into shallow graves.

I wish I was making this stuff up but you see and hear stories like this almost every day in the Japanese media.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t studied Japanese so hard.

知らぬが仏 (shiranu ga hotoke) = ignorance is bliss.

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Death of a Salaryman

April 9, 2009 22:49 pm
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InvisibleGaijin has been a Salaryman, both the work-yourself-to-death-by-quietly-taking-shit-every-day Japanese kind and the fully-loaded-ex-pat-who-hangs-out-at-the-American-Club-talking-shit-about-Japanese kind.

For my generation, being a loyal, dedicated, hard-working Salaryman was a good thing. Wearing a non-descript-so-you-don’t-stand-out-too-much suit from Takashimaya, wedged into the Odakyu train every morning like soybeans into tofu, chain-smoking Seven Stars, drinking Kirin Lager, and slowly working one’s way up to Exalted-but-do-nothing-Bucho-ness — that was the life all good boys aspired to (or at least the life their kyoiku mama‘s programmed them for). 

Even as a third-generation Japanese-American born and raised on the streets of South Central Los Angeles, “having a good career” meant: go to good university, get degree, get white collar professional job, get married to approved-by-mom-nice girl, have 2.3 children (1.4 children in Japan), work ass off for 30 years, then enjoy retired life on a pension.

Even though I was once a I-make-way-too-much-money-thus-I-am-a-god kind of executive-asshole, I eventually realized there must be more in life than the endless pursuit of corporate profit. Especially when the other boys got bigger bonuses than me just because they liked kissing the board’s ass, exploiting the loyalty of local staff, and lying to Clients.

Oops, sorry, that should read: “being a team player, empowering staff, and creating value for Clients.”

In my early middle age, I reached the point where I said, “f**k that!” and pulled the pin, resigned my executive position, burned my suits, and tossed my briefcase into the gomibako.

The Salaryman in me died that day. Actually, I snuck up behind him in a dark alley, popped a cap in his head, and stood over the corpse, saying, “who’s your otou-san now?”

In the Death of a Salaryman began the Journey of the InvisibleGaijin.

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