The day I became king, or at least felt like one, is every day; every day my foot crosses the threshold into a Lawson, 7-Eleven, dining, shopping, or customer service environment to be greeted by the wild shriek of “irasshaimase!” Welcome to Japan – where the customer is truly king.
I am from England, where despite the bravado, hooligan antics you see on television and supposedly extrovert characters, when it comes to dealing with customers, we prefer to chat behind the till, take an extra five minutes on a fag break or shy away completely rather than deal with our customers. How do I know? Well, I once was the front line of a busy entertainment retailer, where, (yes, you’ve heard it before) the customer is king – but getting my staff to look a customer in their eyes or murmur a hello is considered outrageous and almost unheard of.
As a customer in England, when we hear or see these unprovoked actions of friendliness, we ask ourselves – “Why is he smiling at me? Why did she say hello – what did she want? What’s he looking at? Does he want a fight?” Yet despite this, we overcome this internal confusion and reply with a nod or toothy grin, or even a “No, I’m fine thanks”.
It’s no wonder, therefore, that as a gaikokujin in a Lawson or Family Mart, we look round to hear where this bellow has come from. For a second, the spotty convenience store assistant has forgotten the cardinal of rule of dealing with gaijins – that of pretending you haven’t seen him or her in the hope that he won’t speak English to you. When in fact, he has welcomed you into his shop.
For that split second you feel like you have fully integrated into Japanese society. You forget about the afternoon where everyone jumped out of the onsen the minute the gaijin got in. You also forget about the morning where people made a conscious decision to find a seat at the other end of the train rather than sit next to the small-headed gaikokujin. That split second, where the wail of “irasshaimase!” washes over you makes you feel great. Like a king!
Into my grubby hands I pile a couple of onigiri and a sweet which is bound to contain azuki bean (as most Japanese sweets do), and head for the till. The staff behind the counter are not talking about the footy score or finishing their conversation about ladies problems as is so commonly heard in English convenience stores. Here, I am greeted with a cheerful hello and offer of a bag. I blurt out my best “arigato gozaimasu!” and head outside with the shrieks of “thanks and come again” fading behind the closing door.
Later, I reflected on the woman before me in the queue and how typical she was of the many Japanese who have taken this notion of “the customer is King” and have elevated it to an even higher level. At the till I failed to hear anything resembling an “arigato gozaimasu”, or, in fact, any words of thanks or acknowledgement from her as she left with her bag of lunch goodies. Would a King utter words of thanks? I think so….
Watch this behavior next time. To me it’s strange, certainly from a human to human perspective in my culture. What you will witness is the perception of customers taking their role as the king (or queen) and acting with such haughtiness, and air of nobility that it may cause you to wince. I’ve shared my observations with many Japanese and their reasoning has never sat well with me. They say: “I am the customer so I don’t have to say thank you” and “it feels strange to say thank you”. However, despite these reasons or excuses (which I feel is a more appropriate word), all agree that saying arigato or arigato gozaimasu at the till would certainly make the sales assistant feel like a million dollars, even just for a fraction of a second. So yes, take your onigiri, azuki-filled sweets and green tea and feel like a king, but in return why not make them feel like a king, or at least a prince?
The revered Mahtma Ghandi once said “a customer is the most important visitor on our premises, he is not dependent on us. We are dependent on him.” Japanese customers know this and act accordingly. Japanese shopkeepers know this and act accordingly. I know that too; but I am from England and I will keep saying arigato gozaimasu. I can’t help it. Full integration into Japanese society seems a long way off for me!
By Duncan Cahill
U.K / Close-up Magician and Teacher
