It was my first day at work. I am referring to the fist day I came to Kusatsu, my definite workplace, not the first day I worked since I doubt you can call what I did “working”. I met my official trainer, Minobe-san, a smilly but serious looking guy. He explained very very briefly what I was going to do during my internship (briefly meaning “not very deeply”, not meaning “shortly” since their average talking speed is 4 words per minute). He told me to brose in the internet the topics I was going to touch during my work so that I would know something about it at least (I think that it was just to keep me busy). So I had a quite boring wikipedia-day.
When the day finished the new trainees’ trainers took us to have dinner. “Welcome dinner” they called it. So the three trainers, 2 colleges of them and three of us (the trainees) went to a restaurant 10 minutes far from the factory. It was one of those typical Japanese restaurants I have told you before, and their speciality is “okunomiyaki” (or something like that), which is some kind of omelette, basically beaten egg with anything you can imagine in (better not to ask what was actually in).
So we ordered beer. It was Tuesday but I thought I coul manage just one beer, why not, after all I was drinking with my boss and as long as I didn’t drink more than him I would be safe. Well that wouldn’t be a problem for me since by the time I had my second sip he was ordering a new beer pitcher! So the atmosphere calmed down and we passed from having a boss-employee relation to some more friendly one.
I was enjoying the dinner and he was enjoying the beer and the more he drank the more fluent our conversation became. This doesn’t mean that he spoke a better English, but when he couldn’t find the word he needed he just said it in Japanese, so we understood each other just as usual but at least wasting less time. No matter what you said that they would burst into laughter, you could even talk about the extinguishing races in the world that they would nod and laugh.
When we were talking to some other trainees some days ago they told us that they always do it: when they are drinking they always have to talk about women. The key question they always do is “how do you like Japanese girls?” in the beginning is a bit shocking because you think… what the hell do you mean with “how”? And of course even if we were three new trainees there, they had to ask that question to ME first. “Do you like “pretty” or “beautiful”?” I was more and more confused… I was about to go 50% when my Mexican friend Gerardo helped me and told me that with “beautiful” they meant “hot”. As you can see they don’t think in any other thing.
By the end of the dinner (I was going to write “the end of the night” but it was only nine o’clock or so) my trainer and the others were quite drunk. Well, specially my trainer. We said goodbye and headed home to sleep and be ready for the next day. I doubted if Minobe-san would make it at half past eight the next morning… but he did it! I couldn’t notice much tiredness on him; he must be used to it. The funny thing is that after a few minutes he told me that that night we would have our “Welcome Party”, it seemed that he didn’t have enough.
This “Welcome Party” was bigger than the previous one. We were about 20 people having dinner in the restaurant. This time a new trainee joined us (Adam from Poland) and despite I wanted to sit next to some good English speaking people, they made me sit next to some complete estrangers. I exchanged a few words with them and I was surprised that their English was better than what I expected (not good enough though). Then the atmosphere heated up. They brought sake apart from the beer and they made several cheers or “Kanpai!” as they say here. I was prudent and didn’t try the sake since my mom told me it was “dangerous” (I start to speak like Forest Gump). But my friends fell into the temptation and finished making a drinking contest between Mexico and Poland (obviously the Polish won by far) (hey, they have to win something sometime or another!).
The thing was that on the other table there were the foreigners talking in English and having fun and I was stuck with those estrangers exchanging not more than five-word phrases. In the end I saw that there was some free place in the other table and swapped. I don’t know if they would have found this a bit rude or anything. This wouldn’t usually bother me except for the fact that I eventually learned that those guys of my first table were some of the Omron’s big bosses. Ooops…
Anyways, this night was much more intense than the previous one, there was much more alcohol than on the previous one (I don’t know how many pitchers of sake they drunk) and we went home much latter than in the previous one. When we got out of the restaurant we realized how drunk my trainer was. He couldn’t take that stupid drunken grim out of his face. I was about to ask someone if they would help him home when he approached a bicycle… It resulted that he lived an hour by bicycle from there and he came riding it so he would have to take it. Not only this, but also he climbed ON the bicycle and tried to ride it. It was so scary! You could see his body trembling and rocking while he was riding forward and at the same time looking back waving us goodbye and laughing. You could see his front wheel perpendicular to his moving direction, making big S on his trajectory. I followed him with my eyes fearing for his life (at least there weren’t many cars at that time) and just before I was going to loose the view angle he bumped against a big street flower vase. He laughed back and continued his way. If I had been a believer I would have prayed for him to get home safe and sound.
He told me he was married, and I can imagine how he must come home in the evenings. He reminded me to Sinchan’s father and Nobita’s father and now I understand that in those series it was quite normal for the family man to get home drunk.
The next day he was late… and had a terrible face, he is human after all.
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