July 2023
It was close to the end of term, and Shujin received a called from school asking if we could please come in, they had some money to return to us. Apparently we were overcharged for text books or something. They wanted to know what day and time I would come in to collect the refunds. I told him Wednesday, but that day didn’t work for them. I suggested Friday morning. They were happy.
Friday morning came, the first day of the Summer Holidays, and I had a letter to post, money to collect from school and a 10am Zoom meeting, my English Chat session. Then Tofu Lady would come at 10:45am whom I buy locally made tofu from. My previous Post Office experiences have educated me to know that it can take time to purchase just a single stamp for Australia. (Check those stories out here, and here, and here). I still don’t understand why, but it has gotten to the entertaining stage. Anyhow, I planned to get to the Post Office at opening time, 9am, and then go to the school and then I’d be home in time for my 10am Zoom meeting. After that, I still had beds to make for our three guests arriving that night, a house to clean, dinner to cook, and the usual last minute run-around before visitors arrive.
Well, the morning got crowded and I didn’t leave the house when I wanted to and by the time I was ready to leave I was doing an internal wrestle of: would I have enough time to go to the Post Office AND the school? My wisdom won out in the end and I decided it wasn’t worth the risk. So I just went straight to the school. I could go to the Post Office after the Tofu Lady. So to the school I went, Bob in tow as my translator. As I walked through the school gate I had a moment of panic. I didn’t even know whom I was getting this money from. I didn’t know who to speak to or even what to ask for… It suddenly felt really, really odd, to turn up to school and ask for my money! To make matters worse, there’s no front reception. In Australia, the front office staff know everything!
We entered the school building and started to remove our shoes. The staff room door was just on the other side of the shoe bay. Who do I ask for? Bob’s teacher?? Missy’s teacher?? Or the finance officer?? I’m assuming there was a finance officer, but I had no idea. It’s such a small school, they might not have one, and Bob probably didn’t know the Japanese term for “finance officer”…. I stupidly left my phone at home so I couldn’t even phone Shujin to ask him, or do a Google translate. Bob was feeling just as awkward as me.
Thankfully, someone saw us but I still didn’t even know how to explain we’d come to collect money. Poor Bob didn’t know what to translate! A teacher overheard us speaking (incoherently I’m sure), she speaks a little broken English. She somehow knew what I was there for. She called out to Bob’s teacher and he came out of the staffroom with an envelope and a clipboard. We were being refunding less than ¥3,000 (about $30) but I needed to sign to say I received it. He held out the clipboard for me and motioned where to stamp. It is the Japanese way to do a signature. I’m sure they’ve been doing it this way for hundreds of years, and so the practice continues, despite everyone now having access to biros! I didn’t bring my family stamp. Shujin didn’t mention I needed it. Of course, every school parent would already know they would need to bring their stamp in this situation so it probably wasn’t even mentioned to Shujin.
I groaned internally. Why did this have to be so difficult?! So now we were standing there awkwardly, him being polite and explaining and apologising for the need of a stamp, and me nodding and wanting to run away. Why they had to repeat things over and over I’m not sure, maybe that’s the polite thing. I wanted to just leave. And I wanted to explain, I have a 10am Zoom appointment, and a tofu appointment, sorry I can’t get back here till after 11am!
As I headed home I felt so much frustration. Why do things have to be so damn hard and complicated?! Just give me a pen and I’ll sign my name! But that’s not the Japanese way. I’d failed to accomplish two tasks which I should have been able to do before 10am! And I still had beds to make, a house to clean, and things to do before the guests arrive!
I headed back to school after finishing my Zoom meeting and buying my tofu. I felt more confident this time as I walked into the school. I knew who to ask for, I had my stamp. I dragged Bob along again, more for moral support than anything.
Bob’s teacher met us at the shoe bay just inside the door of the school building. He held out the clipboard with the paper for me to sign. Not once had he shown me the contents of the envelope, and here I was signing that I received the money! It felt odd, like I was signing an agreement I hadn’t read! I produced my stamp and placed it firmly on the appropriate spot. I dated it. He handed me the envelope. I restrained from pulling the money out and counting it. Japan runs on honesty. I don’t think for a minute that they have short changed me, but it still felt so weird.
Later, at the Post Office, I handed over my letter and asked for a stamp to Australia. Two staff fluff around slowly, one going off to a computer and another looked through filing drawers. If they really aren’t so dumb, they surely don’t act it. One returned and picked up my letter and passed it through that big piece of cardboard with all the different sized letter slots, just to make sure it’s thin enough. Maybe it’s just protocol, but any fool could tell that the thin letter was going to fit through the narrowest slot.
They figured out how to select “stamp to Australia” in their computer and the printer spat out the stamp. ¥110 displayed on the screen.
I placed a ¥500 coin on their tray and the lady took it. She carefully picked it up and placed it in her coin box and counted out my change. She spread the coins on the tray and, using her pointer finger, she touched each coin, counting out loud the three ¥100 coins. 100, 200, 300. Are you serious??? Any fool can see that there are 3, ¥100 coins! (She didn’t bother counting the small coins that make up the ¥90.) She passed me the tray and I couldn’t help but wonder if she might be a little simple?
That night I whinged to Shujin about how ridiculously difficult my simple tasks became today. And how slow the lady at the Post Office was. Shujin laughed. Apparently it’s just the Japanese way. They are all taught to point at each coin to count it as a check that the right money is given. But then, how come I had to sign for an envelope that I didn’t even see the contents of? He laughed again and apologised. “Sorry, that’s just Japanese culture!”