The Day I Became King

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!

 

 

 

 

 

僕が天下をとる日、っていうのは言い過ぎかもしれないけど、少なくともそんな気分を味わうためについ通ってしまうんだ。コンビニやレストランなどお客様サービスを提供する場に足を踏み入れた途端に響き渡る「いらっしゃいませ！」の声を聞くために…。そう、ここはお客様が神様の国、日本なんだ！
僕の出身国イギリスは、テレビでよく観るフーリガン騒動なんかから想定できるよう、外に向かって何かを発信するのが得意な外交的な性質に見えるかもしれない。けれど、お客様サービスとなると話は別。レジ裏でお喋り、タバコ休憩、お客様無視なんて当たり前。僕もこの超多忙なショービジネス（！）であるレジ担当をしてたんからよーく分かる。お客様と目を合わせて挨拶なんて、期待する方がおかしいってな具合さ。
逆にお客さんの立場から考えても、日本式サービスを受けようものなら「なぜ微笑みかけてるの？なぜ挨拶するの？何か望みがあるの？何見てるの？何か言いがかりでも？！」と自問は増すばかり。例えそんな不可解な自問に打ち勝って返事ができたとしても「ノーサンキュー」が精一杯さ。
だからコンビニに入った外国人が、その天なる声がどこから聞こえてくるのかと辺りを見回すのを見ても僕は驚かない。入って来たお客様が外国人だと分かったアルバイト店員は、マニュアル外の出来事にわざわざ英語で話しかけようなんてしないから、それ以降のことを心配しなくても大丈夫。ここで言いたいのは、お店に来てくれてありがとう、ってことだけだ。
ともあれ、その言葉を聞いた瞬間は日本社会に馴染んだような気になる。ガイジンが温泉に入ってきたらそそくさと出て行く日本人や、電車内で外国人の隣に座るより最終車両まで席を探しに行く日本人と遭遇したことなんてすっかり忘れて。その「いっらっしゃいませ！」と神々しくすら聞こえる声に全てが消し去られるんだ。
おにぎりを2、3個と間違いなくアズキが入っているであろう甘いものを手にレジに向かうと、イギリスではぺちゃくちゃ喋り声が聞こえるのが普通だ。でも日本ではまず挨拶にはじまり、バッグの必要性について尋ねられ、しまいには帰ろうとする後ろ姿にまで「ありがとうございます、またお越し下さいませ！」だ。
その後、僕はこの崇高なる「お客様は神様です」の思想がどれくらい一般的なのかが気になって、目の前に並んでいる女性を観察してみたんだ。しかしだよ、レジで袋に入れてもらった商品を受け取って立ち去る際に「ありがとう」は愚か、一言もないんだ。神様って感謝の気持ちを伝えないものだっけ？これって僕個人にとっても奇妙なことだし、僕の文化では、人としておかしいことだ。神様として感謝するのは、サービス提供側の役割だと勝手に決めつけた横暴な振る舞いはあちこちで見かけるよ。たくさんの日本人と一緒に観察したけど彼らは一貫して「お客様なんだからお礼は必要ない」。しかし、どんな言い訳があろうとも、レジで「ありがとう」の一言が店員を一瞬かもしれないけど気分良くさせるのは間違いない。神様のように扱ってもらって商品を受け取るんだから、同等とまではいわないけど、少なくともお礼に皇太子のような気分にさせてあげるのはドォデショ？
ガンジーがかつてこう言った。「お客様は最も大切な訪問者ですが依存はしません。我々がお客様に依存しているのです。」日本人客はこのことを踏まえて行動している。日本の店主も然り。もちろん僕もそれを知っているけどイギリス人。「ありがとうございます」と言い続けるし、これからも変えるつもりはない。僕が日本社会にどっぷり浸かるにはまだ時間がかかりそうだ。

 

 

 

 

 

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!

 

 

 

 

 

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!