Take My Word for It
Don Maloney
Just recently, I was trying to warn newcomers in Tokyo to be especially careful when talking to English-understanding natives because they are quite apt to take what we say very literally. Anyway, as I was later thinking over that advice, I decided that the warning wasn’t stern enough. So, I’ve got two more stories that should further underscore my point.
The first has to do with a recent Gala Bank Opening in Tokyo. This particular party ushered in the National Bank of Paris. And, as you might expect, the Frenchmen did everything right. Although the French invited a larger number of people than were involved in the activities on the original Bastille Day, everything was adequate. The food was superb and the wine--all of it direct from France--was fantastic. I decided to settle on Mumm’s Champagne as my beverage of the evening. A is typical of first-class affairs, like Gala Bank Openings, supplied along with the food and drink were scores of pretty native girls all done up in flowery kimonos. All during the evening, one or the other of these girls was at my side offering to fetch another stick of yakitori or another plate of raw fish or another glass of spirits.
I’ve always thought it a shame that, during all this revelry, nobody mentions any bank- including the host of the evening. The girl was standing next to me on this particular occasion, marveling at my attempt to dislodge a raw oyster from its shell with chopsticks, finally spoke. “Is the food all right?” she wanted to know. I assured her that it was perfect. “And,” she asked, “how is the wine?” Holding my fourth or fifth glass of Mumm’s on high in a sort of “bottoms up” salute, I said--for some smart-aleck reason I’ll never understand—“It’s definitely not Mercian.” Of course, she took this flip remark very seriously. “You have to understand,” she said, “that this is a French bank opening. So, we have only French wine. Since Mercian wine is a Japanese brand, there is not one bottle in this ballroom.” And with that she disappeared. Why, oh why, I thought, do I keep making remarks like what that when they only give these people an absolutely inaccurate impression of what I’m trying to say. Then, I turned to a Japanese man standing next to me and struck up one of those elementary “Have you ever been to Mt. Fuji?” conversations. Minutes later, I felt a tug at my arm. My kimono girl was back. As I turned to face her, she plucked the glass of Mumm’s from my right hand and replaced it with an empty one. From a little towel-wrapped bottle she was carrying, she filled my new glass with a red liquid. Smiling broadly, she announced, “Since there was no Mercian here, we sent out to a local bar for this bottle especially for you. Enjoy it, please.” And she wouldn’t leave my side until I finished it. As I stood there sipping my Mercian among my hundreds downing their Mumm’s, I had to laugh right out loud.
Because the situation reminded so much of a similar laugh I’d had a couple of weeks before at the expense of another quick-mouthed foreigner, who, like me, should have known better. That occasion was “Navy Day,” the day on which the United States Navy celebrates their birthday. A big ball was set for Yokusuka, the U.S Navy base near Yokohama. Both of us were to attend this ball. His job there was to present some engraved trophy-style plaques to sailors who were selected as “Sailor of the Year Afloat.” My friend decided to order these plaques here in Tokyo. So he called a man who knew a Japanese plaque engraver who would give him a “good deal.”
He explained that the citation would be the same on all plaques (there were four of them) and, under the citation, would appear the name of the sailor chosen. Since time was running out and the Navy had not yet selected the names, his telephone instructions were “Do the citation engraving now (he gave them all the wording) and under the citation will later be engraved their names.” Of course, the engraver asked what the names were. “The names,” he was told, “will come later”
Well, the engraver kept his word. The plaques were delivered on time. The citations were engraved word-for-word just as they were given to him. And, under each citation was engraved: “THE NAMES WILL COME LATER.” What I’m trying to get across in all this is that you never have to say to a Japanese: “Take my word for it.” He always does.
Maloney Don. Take My Word for It. SIBS Publishing House, Inc., 2004
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