Tsukuba Monogatari: Twentieth post
Just as I was starting to think evil thoughts about Japanese people, my spirits were lifted from the valley of the shadow of cultural adjustment by two Eastern Region sales guys who recognized a soul sorely in need of fun and invited us (“us” means Jennifer and me) to the Eastern Region bonenkai. It was an overnight trip to Nasu, an onsen (hot springs) about 3 hours north of Tsukuba.
Perhaps the best-kept cultural secret in Japan is what goes on at bonenkais, traditional year-end parties. When Nishida-san extended the invitation, I accepted with pleasure, and it wasn’t until David (another colleague) asked, “Are any other women going?” that alarm bells started going off in my head. I sought out Okamoto-san (a teddy bear-like ex-trainee) who was delighted to learn that I’d been invited, and asked him to be my cultural informant. “So what happens at a bonenkai?” I asked casually. Okamoto-san giggled. “It’s very difficult to explain in English,” he said, blushing. However, Okamoto-san, spurred on by his management training, persevered. “We play traditional Japanese games,” he said. “What kind of games?” I asked, on the alert. Somehow I couldn’t see 50 Japanese people sitting around playing go and shogi at a year-end party. “I don’t know,” he said. Now he was being coy. “If you can hold your question,” he added, seizing on the Presentation Skills Phrase List, “you will understand.”
Part I
Kishi-san (identified as a candidate for management training the following year) drove Jennifer and me to Nasu. This gave me plenty of time to assess his communication skills. My assessment is that I need to develop skills for maintaining conversation. (I can see the performance objective now: “Develop the ability to maintain a one-on-one conversation (Jennifer was conked out in the back seat) – (standard) for three hours – (conditions) in a car on a Friday evening after an exhausting week of work.”
The banquet room of the Nasu Grand Hotel was arranged so that the “erai hito” (high muckamucks) were sitting at the front, with four long rows for the rank and file extending out towards a stage. Nishida-san (the Eastern Region manager) greeted us and asked (somewhat anxiously, it seemed to me) if this was our first bonenkai. We got the same question from several other people. It was as if they were trying to gauge how appalled we were going to be by what was about to transpire. I said I’d been to small ones, but never one this big. I didn’t want to appear jaded; on the other hand, I wanted to reassure them that, after seven years of living in Japan, I was fairly shockproof.
The party began. As we ate, the M.C., one of the young sales guys, called on individuals to participate in innocent but somewhat bizarre contests. Out of respect for the Japanese, I will refrain from describing them in detail. At one point Jennifer and I exchanged looks, and I philosophized about the cultural assumptions that underlay humor. Actually, what I said was, “This is weird.” About 45 minutes later, we were both laughing and having a great time. This must have been the go-ahead signal, because I then got picked to participate in one of the contests. I sprang gamely to my feet. Nishida-san, spotting a potential critical incident in the making, stepped in and appointed Jennifer to be one of the other contestants, then assigned himself as my partner. So I ended up applying women’s makeup to the very handsome face of the Eastern Region Sales Manager; but dang! Jennifer and her partner won.
At one point, one of the young guys got totally smashed and started dancing around on the stage “butt-nekkid” – but I missed it, dang! because as soon as the commotion began, teddy-bear Okamoto-san, who had apparently appointed himself watchdog (watchbear?), suddenly seated himself directly across from Jennifer and me and engaged us in determined conversation. This is a very quiet guy. So it was a heroic effort on his part, sacrificing himself to draw our eye contact away from the stage.
Part II
Around 9:30, the bonenkai was formally ended, and some of us moved to “the second place.” I must have been really tired; otherwise, my seven years in Japan would have warned me what this meant. It meant karaoke.
“Entertainment“: Courtesy of Josh Berglund19. Licensed under cc by 2.0
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