It’s Time to Praise Japan’s Blue-Collar Workers
Local bankers, not so much
Japan’s blue-collar craftsmen remain the nation’s backbone, and the skilled men and women prove this fact (to me) every time I interact with this professional and talented group of people.
(My experience dealing with middle-level white-collar workers and government agencies has been far less satisfactory. Their ability to pivot or act creatively when confronted by anything unusual is sadly lacking.)
We recently contracted a company named “Fresh House” to remodel our kitchen and bathroom. From the beginning of the project to the final site survey, the contractor and his team of skilled professionals impressed us. They were efficient and courteous, delivered excellent results, and remained on schedule.
One of my neighbors remarked on his receiving a polite apology letter and a small gift towel to compensate for the inconvenience of the noise and general disruption necessary to construction work. (This is a common courtesy in Japan, but my neighbor was especially impressed by the polite wording of the letter he received from our contractor.)
The electricians, plumbers, carpenters, painters, cleaners, laborers, and contractors arrived early, set their equipment outside our home, and rang the bell at 8:30 every morning on days scheduled for work. There were no unpleasant surprises, and all colors, styles, and specifications were delivered as planned. The conditions were harsh as August temperatures reached 36°C (96.8°F) with high humidity.
(We ensured cold beverages were available and offered cold cans of beer in takeaway bags at the end of the workday. The meticulous workers appreciated the gesture.)
They were proud of their finished work and asked permission to take photos of our newly renovated kitchen for their benefit and possible use in future presentations.
(I felt like I was at someone else’s home this morning while I enjoyed my coffee. The difference in our kitchen’s atmosphere is quite remarkable.)
I’ve enjoyed similar positive (business) experiences with our local autobody repair shop, which (in my case) is a necessary visit every two years or so for touch-ups and, in the recent case, replacing a front bumper.
(You wouldn’t have seen the brick hidden in the grass at the campground, either.)
The autobody repair team is always polite and knowledgeable. The manager sends proposals promptly and promises to deliver late, but the team at his shop always seems to finish their work early. They remain true to their estimates and only make adjustments after contacting their customers for permission to adjust the program. Their work ethic and standup approach to business inspire loyalty and build a solid customer base.
I only wish my bank in Kawasaki offered the same competent work and excellent service. Recently, my lawyer refunded an overpayment of US$200 and wired the payment to my Japanese (yen) bank account.
(I’d asked my lawyer’s secretary to send the payment in yen, but she lost the memo.)
You wouldn’t think a US$200 wire transfer would be the cause of any problems.
It opened a barrage of questions and demands from my local city bank, which appears to be inexperienced in foreign interactions. The whole thing got stupid. “Are you laundering foreign assets?” Mr. Mori at the regional Kawasaki bank asked.
(He must think criminals launder money at US$200 at a time.)
The young banker continued to ask questions. “Do you engage in this type of financial interaction often?”
“Can you prove where this money came from and why you received the payment?”
I was driving down the highway when Mr. Mori at the Kawasaki bank called. I told him I’d get back to him with an invoice and an email to assist with their bank’s compliance with Japanese Government regulations.
I have a hands-free car cell phone system, but a phone call like this was distracting. (Japanese is my second language.)
I shared a copy of the invoice from the law office and my email history showing the need to pay the refund; however, the paper trail wasn’t enough to satisfy Mr. Mori’s management and their head office. They asked for details of my business that were far outside the scope of their “need to know” and relevant to a simple financial transaction. (Two hundred dollars?).
We were in the middle of our home’s renovation, taking care of our everyday business, and frankly ignored the messages and phone calls from the bank. Why waste time?
Ultimately, I signed a document prepared by the Kawasaki bank. The bank sent it to me by “snail mail.” I endorsed it, walked to our local post office, and mailed the prepaid envelope prepared by the bank.
The regional bank will now return the money to my law office, which promised to forward the refund to a bank I designated. (I hope this bank is more capable of handling simple transactions.)
I can only imagine the billing hours spent at the local bank trying to determine the best actions to resolve my US$200 issue. They must have spent valuable time in meetings and hallway discussions, writing emails, and looking through countless government and corporate regulations pages to solve the dilemma.
I don’t know where the Japanese “Salary Man” lost his grip on common sense. Sadly, over the last three decades, I’ve witnessed numerous similar, equally ridiculous activities at Japanese corporations and businesses.
Where would Japan be without the men (and women) who build, restore, repair, and inspect the great nation’s infrastructure? Let’s not even think about this horrible proposition.
