Here in Japan, class is far less distinct. At least, that’s how it appears to an outsider like me. Social mobility seems to exist, but it doesn’t apply to industries.  Workers are expected to devote their lives to their profession and industry, often working for their first companies faithfully their entire careers.  The expectation is to work constantly to hone their skills and serve their employers.  Moreover, the fabric of society is sewn with an astonishing amount of shame. It’s hard to imagine anywhere in the developed world where confidence is so low, confrontation so rare, or conformity so glorified. Corporate employees are like bees in a hive. And you don’t steal honey from the hive.

Enter Yuu Koyama.  A few weeks ago I introduced to my readers this young blue collar worker, whose eccentric behavior by Japanese standards is immediately noticeable to any who share a “conversation” with him in English or Japanese.

On our Golden Week vacation, my co-trainee Rob Milchling (link to his blog), his coworker Ayako, Koyama and I took a drive down the Izu Peninsula to coastal Shimoda.  Koyama was the only legal driver, and the entire drive, he spoke softly in Japanese, without smiling or breaking determined eye contact with the wild and twisting road before him.  Ayako, a Japanese bilingual English teacher, translated while guiding Koyama from the passenger seat.  I share his tale here, accompanied by pictures of the stunning drive and Shimoda itself.

It began while Rob and I ate sub-par garlic pizza in the backseat.

Koyama was speaking Japanese, in a low, cold tone.  Ayako seemed very interested and concerned with what he was saying.

“What are you talking about up there?” I asked.

“He’s telling me he used to deliver pizza,” said Ayako, in her characteristically quiet but somewhat high-pitched voice.

I remembered only too well Koyama’s favorite refrain: “I hate my job!” So why doesn’t he still deliver pizza?

“What’s he saying?” I asked Ayako.

[Ayako speaking Japanese]

[Koyama speaking Japanese]

“He says he used to work at Pizza Hut, but he was fired,” said Ayako quietly.

“Why was he fired?” Rob and I naturally asked.

[Ayako and Koyama speaking Japanese]

The order of words was most bizarre. “Because a pizza…” she translated piece-by-piece, “had arrived, with only seven slices…”

There a torrential outburst of laughter, exclusively from the backseat of the car.

“Where was the eighth slice?” we asked, knowing the answer.

[Ayako and Koyama speaking Japanese]

 

“He ate it.”

“Why?” we managed, through hysterical laughter.

[Ayako and Koyama speaking Japanese]

“He was starving.”

My understanding of Japan and Koyama made clear this was simply the emphatic form of hungry, and not the literal translation of being too poor to eat.

Koyama continued speaking in his low, cold tone, and Ayako listened for a moment before continuing herself.

“First he would… uhhh..” she looked confused, and turned to look at us. “How do you say… he was… pick – picking?  Picking the chicken… from the pizza?  Then he … ate a whole slice.”

Ayako waited for us to respond, but we were incapable.  So she continued.

“He was fired… because this had happened… after he had been warned…”

“W-Warned?” I sputtered.

[Ayako and Koyama speaking Japanese]

 

“He had done it before, and the boss was very angry with him…”

We couldn’t breathe at this point.

“…and yelled at him…”

I lowered the window, as Ayako spoke more Japanese to Koyama.

“…and he told him, ‘don’t do it again.’”

With a fresh supply of oxygen, I asked one of the questions burning a hole through my voicebox: “How did he think he could get away with it?”

[Ayako and Koyama speaking Japanese]

Ayako turned to look at us. “You know how there are eight slices?”

“Yes.”

“He positioned the seven, around, with the same small space… what’s the word?”

“Equidistant?” Rob offered.

“Yes! Because he thought they wouldn’t notice.”

Discovery only leads to more mystery.

“And then he did it again, so they fired him.”

“How could he do it again, after getting caught?”

[Ayako and Koyama speaking Japanese]

 

“The smell… of the pizza… made him very hungry.”

Shortly afterward, we had to pull over so Rob and I could get some more air. Though focused on the road while he was driving, Koyama seemed very pleased with himself afterward. Presumably this story of theft wouldn’t have landed well in a culture that puts so much weight on shame.  Koyama stole from the hive and was banished.

After our long drive, Ayako told us that Koyama particularly enjoys speaking English because there is no groveling. In Japanese, one must speak in a submissive dialect to those older than you – even if it’s just one year. Whether it’s balance in communication, or a receptive audience to his antics, amongst English speakers is where Koyama rises from his blue collar status, as a symbol of hope for all Japan.

He is the nail that sticks up.  The nail they can’t hammer.  The black sheep.

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Thanks for reading!

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