Living in Japan, you will see that most of the convenience stores have either Vietnamese staff or foreign workers from Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, etc. Service jobs are greatly understaffed there, so you will mostly see one Japanese worker and multiple foreign workers at the minimum-wage jobs.
I, an Indian, worked at a [Convenience Store] for three years part-time during university. In my third year there, I was made “leader of the night shift”, which meant running the whole store at night by myself. The night shift is very different from the day shift. Besides serving a large number of customers, you have to sort out the accounts, record and check the inventory, liaise with supply people, do deep cleaning of equipment, stock up, cook, etc.
Fast forward to a couple of years later. I am in the Japanese corporate world. I get an apartment in Azabujyuban, a posh, high-income district in Tokyo, famous for being populated by white ex-pats. It’s two in the morning, and I go to the nearby [Convenience Store].
It is a big store, and it’s full of irritated, drunk salarymen and rich brats. The only employee there (Japanese) is confused, panicking, and overworked. The supply truck guy is yelling. Salarymen are yelling. It’s mayhem.
The employee eyes me and yells:
Employee: “Hey, what took you so long?! Come and help me a bit.”
I almost lose my temper, but then I smile and think, “Let’s do this! Tomorrow’s Saturday, anyway.”
I first meet up with the annoyed supply guys. They have to bring their trucks to every store in Tokyo, so staying at one store for more than a couple of minutes will disrupt the whole schedule. I have the supply checked, dial in the records, get the Hanko from the usual place, stamp it, and finish the procedure.
Next, I call a taxi for some passed-out people and escort them to a safer place. Then, I take up a register, and in the next ten minutes, all the customers are served and the store is empty.
The employee gives a huge sigh of relief, closes his eyes, and gets on his knees. I quietly go to stock the ice cream supply in the cold cases. After a bit of a rest, my dude calls out:
Employee: “Thank you for the efficient help! By the way, you’re not wearing your [Convenience Store] jacket. Could you wear it, please? Otherwise, it would be super unprofessional.”
Me: “I don’t have a jacket. I don’t even work here.”
Employee: “What? Didn’t my manager send you as a replacement?”
Me: “Nope, I live in an apartment a block away and came here to shop. I used to work in a [Convenience Store] many years ago, so I’m familiar with the procedures.”
The employee was very, very embarrassed and said sorry and thank you in around twenty different phrases of polite Japanese.
Me: “Chill, man. I am gonna come here often so Yoroshiku ne.” (I am in your care.)
I felt good overall in the aftermath, and this reminded me that, as a senior guy in corporate headquarters, I must always be mindful of the mental and physical health of the people on the frontlines. They are the ones who represent the big company to the world and do the actual work.