Plastic bags are just the tip of the melting ice berg

Dear readers, I have one word for you, “plastics.”

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If you don’t recognize that film reference, I feel sorry for you. However, I’m not talking about a career, unless your university degree is in environmental studies. I’m talking about waste. Lots of it. Tons of it. Mountains of it. And, of course, I’m talking about you, Japan.  

However, I believe too much emphasis is placed on plastic bags. The kind that goods are placed in at convenience stores and supermarkets. For example, since our local Summit supermarket started taxing shoppers for bags, nearly everyone brings their own re-useable bag. And this is true at most supermarkets around Japan these days. I’m concerned with all the other bits of random plastic that are part of the Japan consumer experience.

 

Would you like a spoon with your cone?

Case in point. Take a visit to Baskin Robbins, affectionately known as “31” in Japan, and the name behind not only delicious ice cream but perhaps the greatest brand logo in the history of logos. The first thing that happens when you walk in the door is that a sales clerk will thrust a free ice cream sample on a tiny, sturdy pink plastic spoon, into your face. Free ice cream. Impossible to refuse. It’s gone in seconds and so is the single-use spoon.

Now you have a dilemma. Do you request another sample of a flavor you want to try and waste another spoon, adding more plastic to the landfills and oceans of our fair planet, or just make your purchase? Anyway, you finally decide on butter brickle and request a cone. Best way to enjoy ice cream in my book—strolling around on a hot summer day with an ice cream cone.

Here’s where the insanity begins, in Japan at least, they give you ANOTHER pink plastic spoon with your ice cream cone. Who needs a spoon with an ice cream cone? That’s like getting a fork with a sandwich. I always refuse it, but sometimes I'm not quick enough and I wonder what happens to that spoon that has touched my ice cream. I’ll bet you it gets tossed as well. However, I often see Japanese people eating ice cream cones with spoons. Go figure.

 

Wrap it up. I’ll trash it.

These kinds of transactions happen a thousand times a day in Tokyo. You buy anything from convenience store, say a quart of milk and if you’re not quick enough, they’ll thrust a plastic straw into your bag. The other day I bought two onigiri (rice balls), which are designed to be eaten by hand. No other way to do it, in fact. And a fork was put in my plastic bag along with my plastic wrapped onigiri. We have a whole collection of these forks and spoons and straws at home, patiently awaiting a picnic that never happens.

 Japan is a nation of wrapping, and I’m not talking about kimono. Wrapping things that are individually wrapped, placed in boxes wrapped in plastic, placed in plastic bags, placed in fancy paper bags.  We know this because we have to separate our trash into “burnable” and “non-burnable” bags and every week we stuff all that single-use plastic into plastic bags to be left for the trash collectors and hauled off to where?

If you want to impress a tourist or your friends back home, give them a box of tea or rice crackers or sweet bean paste cakes. The first thing they will say is, “I love the packaging. Everything is wrapped so beautifully.” Beautifully and needlessly. Like the wrapping paper from a birthday present, all that beautiful wrapping, which is usually made of plastic, goes in the bin minutes after it’s seen. From there it’s heading straight to the nearest landfill or ocean and washing up soon at a beach near you.

It’s green, plastic and inedible. What’s it for?

Your average “gift” box of sembei (rice crackers) or sweet bean cakes will feature a box of say nine individually wrapped portions in a cardboard box, with a molded plastic tray featuring slots for each treat and often a plastic sleeve that goes over the whole thing which is topped by another cardboard cover. It’s a modest amount of food that will leave enough trash to start your own landfill.  

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Another bit of plastic that foreigners living in Japan find perplexing are the fake pieces of grass (haran leaf), that come with convenience store sashimi. Purely decorative, these little pieces of plastic serve absolutely no purpose. Unlike artificial grass which you can play sports on or artificial flowers, which at least look beautiful from afar, these little monsters are ugly and completely unnecessary. Why do they exist? Tradition? Ignorance? It’s probably money, like everything thing else. Somebody always gains when the environment loses.

On the other hand, Kit Kat recently made the news in Japan for deciding to change the wrapping of their famous snacks from plastic to paper. And, the other day, I did receive a paper straw with my ginger ale at a gourmet restaurant featuring locally sourced food. Good signs, no doubt. Now let’s get rid of the plastic sashimi grass.

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Japan Does Christmas (Sort Of)

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My first Christmas in Japan. I remember it like yesterday, even though it was nearly 30 years ago. As Advent unfolded everything seemed to be going according to plan. Shops played Christmas carols. Advertising took on holiday themes. Christmas cakes (a Japan thing) went on sale.  Corner Salvation Army troops rang their bells for the poor.

Then the big day came, and I had to go to work. There I sat on December 25, proofreading an annual report. Heck, even Bob Cratchit got Christmas Day off. The only other Christian in my office, a Japanese woman who went to Catholic school, sat at her desk like it was any other day. And it was. Unlike the Grinch, the Japanese did stop Christmas from coming. Sure, we had all the fancy packaging with ribbons and bows, but there was nothing inside. And I felt just as empty. That day I made a vow that when I started my own business, I would always take Christmas Day off.

Even Bob Cratchit gets Christmas Day Off

Back in those days, it was a thing to go out with your sweetheart to a fancy Italian restaurant on Christmas Eve and then attend mass at the Sophia University chapel. One year I did this with my future wife. It was nice, but still I had to work on Christmas Day.

Today, Christmas is bigger than ever in Japan…well, as a branding and marketing vehicle. Sidewalk Santas abound. Christmas movies are launched. Many commercial and public spaces feature the most amazing, outrageous and sometimes beautiful illumination displays and Christmas trees. Some animated installations are so popular you have to wait in line for up to an hour to see them.

 

Don’t Forget to Order your Kentucky Fried Chicken

How about the food, you ask? Can you imagine Christmas without Kentucky Fried Chicken? Most Japanese can’t. Yes, the country where turkey is scarcer than reindeer in Whoville, has made chicken, specifically the KFC variety, a Christmas tradition. Tell an American friend you were looking forward to KFC on Christmas, and they’d probably think you were either homeless or crazy.  

Yes, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go in Tokyo. Just don’t expect to get the 25th off. Come in bright an early and make sure you get that important file to me ASAP. You may even have to work overtime. As for me, I’ll be home drinking eggnog and watching It’s A Wonderful Life.

 

 

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Yo! Can I Get Some Service Over Here?

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What is service and where can I find some? In Japan, the katakana version of service or “saabisu” often means getting something extra, as in a baker’s dozen, and therein lies the problem. With inbound tourism skyrocketing, the Rugby World Cup coming in 2019 and the 2020 Olympics bearing down on Tokyo, let’s explore the idea of service. And I don’t mean “omotenashi” or that unique style of Japanese hospitality (snicker).

Perhaps it’s best to start with a definition, if I may. Service is getting what you want, how you want it, when you want it. A dash of warmth and kindness and maybe a smile is nice, but definitely not necessary. During my summer holiday in Italy, I had the opportunity to experience Italian service for the first time. Italy is a country that thrives on tourism, so you might think they know a thing or two about service. This is what I found.

In Italy, almost without fail, you get what you want, how you want it and when you want it, but the style of delivery various wildly. Sometimes it was warm and gracious. Sometimes it was brusque. Sometimes it was downright rude, but I always got what I wanted. That’s satisfaction. 

I should note that my Italian language skills are basically nil, but the people serving me didn’t mind. They would communicate in Italian or, more often, in varying levels of English, with full eye contact, until they figured out what I needed and delivered it. I always walked away a satisfied customer, with a story to tell about the kind of interaction I experienced. Most importantly, I never got that “deer in the headlines” stare that so many foreigners in Japan have experienced.

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You want it when?

Coming back to Japan, I started wondering “is English ability really that important?” Was that the key to my pleasant experiences in Italy? I note this, because Japan Inc. and Japan Academia seem to think that English is the key to better everything with the rest of the world. First of all, it’s true that way more Italians speak passable English than Japanese folks. Before I left for Italy, my friends who’d been told me I wouldn’t need to worry about speaking any Italian. But what was reinforced during my travels is the truth that good service is about more than language and communication skills, it requires acceptance  

Going back to our definition of service. What, when, how. No frills necessary. Acceptance. How does Japan rate?

Without question, service at top level establishments in Japan is tops in the world. It’s almost embarrassing how well you are treated by waiters, clerks and concierge in those places. However, it drops off sharply, very sharply when you get to mid-level establishments, enough so, that it’s hit or miss. Usually, the miss is a misunderstanding and the result is not getting something how or when you want it. Sometimes you will reach a painful impasse. Throughout, there will be a lot of bowing and fake smiles. I believe that’s what “omotenashi” generally is. All style, no substance and very often frustration.

In Japan’s lower level establishments, service isn’t really an issue because you are seeking an authentic experience. How you are treated depends on the personality of the proprietor. Sometimes you get great service. Sometimes it’s funky. Sometimes it’s bad, but you’re not expecting much anyway. And most often, navigating service relationships at low-level establishments is the fun part of being a tourist or a foreigner in Japan. No expectations. No worries.

 

I’ll have whatever she’s having

It’s the mid-level establishments that worry me. Any foreign resident of Japan has had this experience numerous times. You are dining with your Japanese friend or spouse and the waiter refuses to make eye-contact with you. No matter how flawless your Japanese is, all questions get referred to your Japanese acquaintance. It’s beyond exasperating.

For this reason, I have found phone services to be much easier and more fluid. Here we are connected by devices. You can’t see me. I can’t see you. We’re going to make this work. What’s the point? It’s often the mere sight of a foreign face that unnerves most Japanese service providers.

They see you and think, “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.” Perhaps they think your Japanese won’t be good enough and fear their English won’t be good enough. From the get-go, all communication breaks down, and you haven’t even said a word yet. 

Most foreigners who live here have also had the experience of ordering in a restaurant by voice, striving to make eye contact, and having the waiter cast their gaze down and point to a picture on the menu. Maybe this is an effort to satisfy our definition of service without fail. However, it is annoying, because you feel like you are being dismissed while any chance for human interaction is eliminated.

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Not all foreigners are created equal

The point they are missing is that all foreigners are not the same. Some of us speak Japanese. Some of us don’t. In fact, some who look Japanese, do not speak Japanese. What I enjoyed in Italy was undivided attention and eye contact, not a presumption of who I was or what I needed. No one took me for Italian, but no one took me for an idiot either.

If Japan wants to step up its mid-level service, it needs to teach service providers to treat each customer—white, black, Asian, whatever—as a unique individual. Look them in the eye. Speak in whatever language you are most comfortable with. Communication is about more than words, more than language. Good service begins with an attempt to understand. Understanding leads to acceptance which leads to better communication and better service.