I’m the writer of this story.

When I first came to Japan, I went to a Japanese language school in Yokohama. I had a great apartment a twenty- to twenty-five-minute from the school, and since I always went there and back at the same time, I got to know and chat with some of my neighbors and other people who happened to be walking along that same road. 

One of these was an elderly man who lived in my neighborhood whom I often saw on my way home. One day, he invited me to meet and chat with a group of his equally elderly friends. I was a little shy but didn’t know enough Japanese at the time to refuse, so I went along with him. It was the middle of winter, and so I was wrapped up in quite a few layers that pretty much hid any kind of figure I had. (Japanese winters can be bitter if, like me, you’re not used to the cold.)

The group was lovely and asked me a lot of questions about where I came from, did I like Japan — the usual catechism that foreigners get. About ten minutes later, one of the women leaned forward.

Woman: “You have really beautiful skin.” 

This is a comment I often get from random Japanese people since the genetic lottery gave me skin that is smooth and naturally very pale, which is considered beautiful in Japan. I’m also never entirely sure how to answer it.

Me: “Oh…uh…thank you.”

Woman: “Yes. You almost look like a woman.”

After much hysterical choking and spluttering into his tea, the man who’d invited me said:

Man: “She is a woman!”

I know I have a pretty deep voice, but I hadn’t realized it was THAT deep!

Related:
Ah, The Delightful Quirks Of Language

This morning I got into my car and realised I’d left my headlights on. Thankfully, modern technology meant it had automatically switched off when the key was removed. But it reminded me of a time when that wasn’t so.

Many, many years ago, I was working one of my first jobs in a little cafe, nearing the end of my training period. It was a quiet day, perfect to put the newbie on with only one experienced staff member. The experienced staff member called in sick.

My boss had to come in and cover until another coworker could come in early. [Boss] wanted to use the time on site to do paperwork out the back.

Boss: “I’ll be in here if you have any questions.”

Very annoyingly, I had a lot of questions, like how to void an incorrect transaction, where to find more special paper for the credit card machine, and what to do when the coffee grinder stopped working. Finally, [Boss] said:

Boss: “I’m busy! Don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency! Let me know when [Coworker] is here.”

Me: *Shyly* “That’s what I came to tell you: [Coworker] just arrived.”

Boss: “Great. Any more questions, ask her.”

[Coworker] took over the coffee area and got me on restocking, clearing tables, emptying the bins, and other necessary grunt work.

I went out to the outside bins through the little staff parking area and saw my boss’s old car there with the headlights still on.

I went back to my boss’s office.

Me: “[Boss]…”

Boss: *Snapping* “IS IT AN EMERGENCY?!”

Me: “…not to me.”

Boss: “THEN GO AWAY!”

I left quickly. I went to tell [Coworker] instead.

Me: “[Coworker]…”

Then, I changed my mind.

Me: “[Boss] doesn’t want to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency, so I’m supposed to ask you if I have more questions.”

[Coworker] and I worked pleasantly until the end of my shift a few hours later.

As I gathered my things to leave, [Boss] ran by me, knocking into me a bit. Without turning around to see if I was okay, [Boss] said:

Boss: “Sorry, I’m in a rush.”

I slowed down to see what happened next, getting out my brick of a phone to text my mother and tell her I was on my way home. I could hear my boss swearing.

Boss: “[My Name]!”

Oh, no. [Boss] had realised what I was going to tell them earlier. I was in trouble.

Boss: “Can you bring your car in and give me a jump start? My battery is flat.”

Only a few cars could fit in that area, so only senior staff and management could park there.

Me: “I walked here. I live a ten-minute walk up the hill.”

I raced off before [Boss] could blame me.

The next time I was on shift with [Coworker], I asked what happened to [Boss].

Coworker: “Headlights left on. Got a flat battery. [Boss] tried to jump-start it with my car, but it didn’t work. Had to call a taxi… Funny that neither of us noticed the lights were on when we walked by it.”

And I realised, of course, that she had to have seen it when she walked in. I can only imagine why she didn’t say anything, either.

I work in a supermarket café. We have a system where [Colleague #1] will be on the till and taking orders, and [Colleague #2] will make the drinks.

One afternoon, [Male Customer] and [Female Customer] walk in and come to the till. They ask for two teas and two slices of cake. [Colleague #1] hits the buttons on the till. [Colleague #2] is just finishing off the previous order.

Colleague #2: “The cakes are self-service, so please help yourself whilst I get your drinks ready.”

The customers just stare. [Colleague #2] has to tell them three times before they go to the cakes.

Male Customer: “We want these.”

Colleague #2: “Please help yourself.”

Female Customer: “Excuse me! Excuse me! I need to show you something!”

[Colleague #1] goes over, thinking there might be something wrong with the cakes.

Female Customer: “We want two slices!”

Colleague #1: “…that is two slices, madam. The last two slices, so you came at just the right time!”

In the end, [Colleague #1] just gets the cake himself and brings everything to the till. [Colleague #2] has finished their drinks, so all they need to do is pay.

Colleague #1: “That will be [total].”

[Male Customer] gets his card out and puts it into the machine. He enters the four digits of his PIN and then presses the green “Enter” button.

Female Customer: *To [Male Customer]* “What are you doing? You shouldn’t hit the green button!”

Male Customer: “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

They argue amongst themselves for a few moments.

Female Customer: “I am very angry with you! I am so upset, we can’t eat here anymore! Get a refund!”

So, [Colleague #1] gets the refund ready. At our store, if you paid by card, the refund goes back into your card, and you need to put the card into the machine to get the money back onto it. [Male Customer] just stands there.

Male Customer: “Where’s my refund?”

Colleague #1: “You need to put the card back into the machine.”

Male Customer: “You’ll charge me again! I’m not paying again!”

Eventually, he does put the card in and gets his refund. As the cakes have been touched, we can’t resell them to any other customers, so [Colleague #2] takes them out the back ready to record and dispose of them. But thirty seconds later…

Male Customer: “Actually, we do want those cakes.”

Colleague #1: “Okay, let me just check…”

Male Customer: *Interrupting* “You don’t need to check with your manager! Just get me the cakes!”

Colleague #1: “Actually, I was going to check that they hadn’t been thrown out.”

Luckily, they haven’t, so the cakes are brought back out and [Colleague #1] puts them through the till again.

Colleague #1: “That’ll be [total].”

Male Customer: “I’ve already paid for them!”

Colleague #1: “Yes, you did, but then we refunded you. If you want them again, you’ll have to pay for them again.”

They started arguing again, both amongst themselves and at [Colleague #1], who simply reiterated that they needed to pay for the cakes. Eventually, they did… and [Female Customer] once again moaned at [Male Customer] that he “can’t hit the green button!”, but they took their cakes and stomped over to their table, still arguing.

“Green button” became the running joke amongst the staff for the rest of the evening.

I work at a coffee and pastry place.

Customer: “I want three vanilla Danishes!”

I charge him for them and hand him the receipt, no problem. Then, he decides to change his mind.

Customer: “Actually, I want the raisin Danishes!” 

It’s annoying, but the other Danish is the same price, so it’s no big deal.

Me: “Is it okay to put the Danishes all together in one bag?”

Customer: “Sure.”

I get what he wants, and I show him the bag to make sure I have the order right.

Customer: *Waving his receipt* “What is this?! That’s not what I paid for! I wanted vanilla Danishes!”

Okay, so now he wants the original item he was charged for, even though he told me to change it.

Customer: “What kind of bag is this?! Put them in a better one!”

Why wouldn’t you tell me that before when I showed you the bag I was going to use?

Customer: “You can’t stack the Danishes on top of each other like that! It’s bad presentation!”

He is right on that one, but he did say it was okay to put them in one bag. 

At this point, I assume everything will finally be right, but of course, it isn’t.

Customer: “You shouldn’t put these in a bag; it’s better in a box.”

There are other people waiting behind this guy, and luckily, I finally get everything “right”, so I apologize before he leaves.

Customer: “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It’s just so you know for next time.”

That day, I learned that when a customer says they want their pastries in the bag you showed them, they actually mean that they want a box, and if they change their mind, you should ignore them and give them what they originally paid for.

Now that I’ve been working for ten years, this doesn’t seem so horrible, but [Manager] remains the only manager I’ve ever had to make me cry on the job. I worked in the cafe of a now-closed bookstore, and after we started going under, we would frequently close by ourselves to save payroll, even though it was a two-person job.

[Manager] lived a decent commute from our store and would do everything possible to get out the door as quickly as possible, including closing the store early because “no one’s here anyway” — against company policy — and then being shocked that the cafe wasn’t closed down and ready to go because obviously there were a lot of closing tasks that couldn’t be done until we were officially closed: cleaning the espresso machine, dumping the cold brew, etc.

One night, I got frustrated that he expected me to be done at 9:30 when I should have had until at LEAST 10:15 before a manager started breathing down my neck to hurry up — not to mention that the booksellers should be doing things like recovery and straightening in those fifteen minutes after close — and told him this was unreasonable.

[Manager] lost it on me.

Manager: “You are so lazy! You’re trying to keep me from getting home before 3:00 am!”

There was no way he lived five hours away.

Manager: “You can complain to anyone you want, but you’re not going to take me down with you!”

It was then that I realized that he wasn’t mean-spirited; he was just f****** crazy.

I quit two days later. I was graduating from college and going home in a few weeks, and it just wasn’t worth it. It’s still the best job I ever had, but I rue the day [Manager] took over that bookstore.