Firefly in Japan on the Your-Japan Blog Network

One day I’m on a train, going to work. It’s peak hour in Tokyo, and it’s very busy. I was lucky and managed to get a seat. I have a book in front of me that I’m reading, but it’s hard to concentrate since people are continuously shifting around me. The doors on the train close, and people stop moving. The announcer makes an nasally announcement, the train jerks, and we’re underway. I look up, and set an unfortunate series of events in motion.

A Japanese salaryman in his late twenties is standing directly in front of my seat. He is wearing a boring, grey suit, the same colour as everyone else on the train. He stares off into space, his lazy, drooping eyes expressionless and still. All in all, a very normal guy. However, something catches my eye. I look down to his midsection, and his fly is open. Actually, to merely say ‘his fly was open’, would be doing this man’s fly a disservice. His pants were gaping open, fully exposing his checkered boxers, and the lower tail of his shirt. His pants were open to the world, a violent explosion of checkered boxes right in my face.

I looked away, and considered my options. Should I tell him? Maybe he’d be angry and embarrassed. It’s generally a bad idea to make someone lose face, especially in Japan. It can have unpredictable results. Hmm. If my fly was open, would he tell me? I thought back to the couple of times where I had walked around for half a day "open for business", and no-one cared to save me some embarrassment. I looked left and right to my fellow commuters. Their faces were inscrutable - it was impossible to tell if they noticed. Even if they did notice, I doubted they would say anything. I considered my own culture. If this was in Australia, I think someone would tap me on the shoulder, and whisper a quick "Oi, you’re at half mast, mate". I decided to be true to my Australianess, and tell him.

Now, how should I breach the subject? If I loudly say "YOUR PANTS ARE OPEN", he would undoubtedly be embarrassed and/or upset. I decided on a more subtle approach. I would try to get his attention, and gesture with my eyes towards his groin. This would make the most sense, and allow him to quickly correct his ‘issue’, with minimal embarrassment.

I open my eyes wide, and swing my head back and forth to try to catch his eye. His empty expression remains unchanged. I frown. I open my eyes wider still, and look him directly in the eye. His face remains expressionless… except I think I just saw a brief wave of irritation pass over his features. Undeterred, I stare him right in the eyes, and shake my head left to right, like a cobra with developmental problems.

He stares straight ahead.

I pause. This isn’t working - I need a new strategy. I cough, and raise my eyebrows simultaneously. Nothing. I cough, stare at him, raise my eyebrows, and move my head left and right.

His eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns and looks around. I suddenly realise he is looking for a new place to stand. He’s trying to escape from the crazy coughing gyrating gaijin who is trying to catch his eye. Ungrateful bastard, I thought indignantly. The train was packed, there was no other place for him to stand. Ha.

He turns his head, doing his best to avoid my stare. I consider giving up, but then I imagine him walking into a crowded meeting with his boss and all of his colleagues. I imagine them all laughing at him, and attaching a terrible nickname to him that will last the rest of his lifetime employment. I must get his attention.

My previous efforts failed. It’s time to step up to the next level. I unhook my hand from my side, and slowly move it to the direction he is looking in. As discreetly as possible, I slowly wave my hand. His face tinges red, and an expression akin to that of a trapped man washes over his face. I continue waving. Finally, he turns to me.

"What the hell is it?" He snarls. His shirt protrudes an inch further from his fly as he rotates to face me. He looks at me like I just slapped him across the face.

People within earshot on the train look at me. They look at him, and immediately notice his fly. They look back at me. A moment of silence. What will I do?

I open my mouth, and say……. "Oh, nothing," with a friendly smile.

"Idiot gaijin." He growls under his breath. I continue smiling.

The train pulls into the next station, and the doors open. He pushes his way off the train, and heads off to work. Perhaps to a client meeting, or an internal conference.

I take a small guilty pleasure in the probable embarrassment he is about to endure. I wonder if later on, when he flushes red and spins 180 degrees, and yanks up his fly, in front of a full conference room, will he will remember my efforts to get his attention on the train? And it was all because he didn’t offer the most basic of courtesies to a gaijin on the train.

It was a Thursday. Bill and I were working at the office of a clothing shop in Shibuya. I was configuring an antivirus server that would automatically deploy antivirus clients to all of the computers on the network.

"Hows it going?" Bill asked, peering over my shoulder.

"Yeah, it’s fine. I’m almost done. How are you going?" I asked.

"Well," Bill’s face scrunched up. "Bit of a problem really, but I think I’ve got it." Bill said.

"Ok. Well it’s almost 5:30. I need to leave soon to make my train to my Martial Arts class. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave as soon as I’m finished." I said.

Bill grunted.

My shift really went until 6pm, but I had an agreement with Bill and Shane that I would leave early twice a week at 5:30pm. In return, I would work to 6:30pm or 7pm twice a week. I needed to board the 6:20 train from Shinjuku to make the class.

I was excited about the class tonight. Thursday was my absolute favourite night of the week. Togara-sensei was leading the class, there was a small and devoted number of students, and we got plenty of personal attention. The dojo was amazing. When you walk in, you can feel the authentic martial arts emanating from every corner of the room. The air in the dojo was crisp, but tinged with the scent of body odour, pain and proper form. On the floor, laid springed tatami mats, so we could bounce and throw each other around like rag dolls and only be slightly worse for wear. This was very fun for students, but life preserving for the poor bastard who Togara-sensei was using as his personal bitch for that particular night. Togara-sensei was strict and didn’t fuck around, as countless bruises, strains, sprains and aches can attest.

The clock struck 5:28, as I finished the final settings for the antivirus package. I walked over to a machine, and turned it on. A smile spread across my face as the software downloaded itself, executed, and automatically installed itself. I did a couple of tests, and confirmed it was working fine. I went back and instructed the server to install on all the machines.

"I’m done. The next time everyone logs in, they’re going to have the new version of AV. I’ll come back tomorrow morning to check the installs and make sure it doesn’t cause any problems."

"Oh… um, you’re leaving already?" Bill asked, concerned.

"Right. Tonight is Thursday, I have my class. It’s already 5:32, so I have to run. Do you need me to do anything else?" I asked, zipping up my bag containing my PC.

"Anything else? Um… well I’m still having this problem here…" Bill gestured to the server screen.

"Alright. Can I quickly help you somehow?" I asked.

"I’m not sure. Do you know whats wrong?" Bill asked, angling the screen towards me.

I peered in for a look. "Hmmm.." I said, "I don’t know, I’d need to sit down and spend some more time on it. If it doesn’t work, how about a re-install?" I advised. I checked my watch. "Look mate, I’m sorry but I really have to run. If you really need help, give me a call."

Bill hesitated, and glanced at the server. "Alright…" He said, haltingly.

I grabbed my bag and took off at a jog. I felt free and happy. I finished my work, it worked perfectly, and I was going to my favourite class. I bounded through the office, and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. I remembered a martial arts technique I was having problems with last week, and I was sure I could nail it tonight. If not, Togara-sensei can show me exactly what to do. I cut through the crowd of faceless salarymen, and headed down into the train station. It was a long train ride to the dojo, but it was worth every minute. Since I was riding around peak-time, I had to stand. I didn’t care - I enjoyed Thursday night so much, I would have walked there. I can’t get a big stupid grin off my face.

The train is crowded. My phone rings. Angry glances from surrounding passengers. It’s Bill.

"Hello Bill, hows the server?" I ask.

"Not so good. It’s still not working." Bill said.

"Oh…. OK. Well, I’m already on the train for my class. Sorry about that." I said. People continued to look at me with angry faces, upset I was talking on the phone on the crowded train.

Bill paused for a moment.

"Can you come back?" Bill asked.

My breath stuck in my throat.

"What? Come back?" I exclaimed.

"I want to get this working tonight. Maybe you can fix it." Bill said.

It was my turn to look angry and upset. "I really want to go to this class… I promised someone I would be their training partner. Is this really important? Can I look at it tomorrow? If I come back, I will definitely miss my class."

"Can you come back?" Bill repeated.

A wave of anger boils up. I grit my teeth. After a long pause, I said : "Ok. Fine. I’m coming back."

Before Bill could reply, I hung up the phone in disgust. The doors slid open, and I trudged to the other side of the tracks. I caught the train back. I stormed out of the station. I re-entered the office, and went back into the server room. Bill was still looking at the server. He stood when he saw me come in.

"Let me have a look then." I said, failing to conceal my feelings of frustration.

I sat down and looked at the server. I clicked through a number of screens, and came to rest on the main settings screen.

I examined the settings. Then I experienced a mix of rage and disappointment.

"You set the IP wrong." I said.

"What?" Bill looked at the screen.

"The IP is just set wrong. Thats it. You left it on default."

"Oh." Bill said slowly.

I clicked Execute, and of course, it worked perfectly.

An air of awkward silence hang between us. I missed my class. All because Bill didn’t check the most basic, obvious setting. He called me back for nothing.

"Gee… I made you miss your class. I’m sorry," Bill lamely offered.

"Don’t worry about it." I grabbed my stuff. I looked at my watch. 6:13pm. My train from Shinjuku leaves in a few minutes. I trudged out of the office in decidedly less higher spirits. Depressed, upset, angry and dejected, I slowly walked back to the station to head back home.

Very, very annoying. Even infuriating. But I’m a pretty forgiving person, so I forgave him. The next incident however, was twice as bad and impossible to forgive.

This is a story relayed to me by a friend in Tokyo. To set the scene, he is a British guy. He’s pretty tall, shaved head. Tough guy looks. He wears a leather jacket reguarly, and he looks like a hardass. But he’s also a pretty sensitive guy who looks out for his friends, and is a generally well-intentioned and nice person. This combination is a recipe for disaster in Japan.

He was riding the Yamanote line one day. The Yamanote line is a huge train line that goes in a big loop all around Tokyo. It gets very crowded in the morning, and as such it’s prime hunting grounds for the most despised of all commuters - the chikan.

The chikan is a dirty, disgusting creature that is able to prey on women due to a hole in Japanese culture. These filthy creatures get close to a woman on a train, and basically fondle them.

I’ve spoken to girls who have been victims of these attacks. At first, they think "gee, it’s crowded this morning. That guy is getting pretty close". Next, they get ‘brushed’ with a stray hand or arm. Since the train is often too crowded to move, they don’t think too much of this. Then all of a sudden, the Chikan goes for the grope. They dive in with a hand and go for as much as they can. Right here, in a Western country, the female ‘victim’ would perform a spinning back kick to the perps head and drop him like a bag of potatoes. Then have him arrested for bruising her foot. Then have the police beat him. Unfortunately in Japan, there is a very strong concept of WA - harmony. And it means keeping the peace no matter what happens. So these girls stay there, silently screaming, trying to get out of the way, while the perverted piece of shit goes to town.

*cough*. I feel better now I’ve gotten that out of my system. Many people I know have fallen victim to these leeches on society. It makes me furious that their upbringing of these girls forces them to keep silent and say nothing, giving the Chikan free license to continue his dirty fetish.

Now, back to my friend’s story - he was sitting down on theYamanote, waiting patiently for his stop. He happens to looks up, and he sees a Japanese salaryman standing next to 2 school girls. Normal enough. However his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he glances down, and he notices this particular salaryman is using his briefcase as a shield, behind which he is vigorously relieving himself, not one step away from these girls.

He looks around frantically. Surely someone else has seen this, surely someone will step up and give this man an angry lecture about spanking in public in breathing distance of schoolgirls.

The train is silent.

Except of course, for the animated conversation of the 2 schoolgirls, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking behind the suspicious salaryman’s briefcase. "It’s down to me!" He realises. Time to step up and protect the innocence of these 2 schoolgirls. I will protect them, where their Japanese brethren have let them down.

He jumps to his feet and storms over, shielding his eyes from the disgusting waist level display.

"HEY!" He calls out angrily, walking towards the salaryman.

The salaryman jumps, re-"sheaths", and conveniently slides out of the train just before the doors close, making a clean escape.

The schoolgirls look at this tall, bald English guy, who just stormed over, screaming. Their faces are frozen into looks of horror, as they wait to see what this unstable gaijin will do next.

The British guy remembers he doesn’t speak Japanese, but nevertheless, he has to explain the situation. One quick look at these girls confirms that they’re scared shitless.

An ill-conceived idea pops into his head. He points at the door, through which the Japanese Salaryman had just left. The schoolgirls eyes follow his finger, their faces still frozen. He then moves his hand down to his waist level, and performs an exaggeration of the wrist motion of the Japanese salaryman.

The Japanese school girls stand there, shocked. He performs the gestures again. They become visibly uncomfortable. The rest of the train carriage looks on.

Deflated, he realises this is not working at all. He racks his brain for the Japanese words he knows. Masochistically, his brain gives him the word for dick - "Chin chin".

His face lights up. Armed with this word, I can communicate exactly what happened!, he thinks. The school girls are beginning to edge away. He panics, he is losing his last chance to redeem himself and not look like a depraved pervert weirdo. So he gestures wildly to get their attention, once again gestures at the door, then does the hand motion, then points at the door and says "CHIN CHIN!! SALARYMAN!! CHIN CHIN!!".

Predictably at this point, the girls scream and run away. "Chikan!!" They yell from a safe distance. Suddenly every eye on the entire train is on him. He stands there mortified. He was only trying to help. An elderly Japanese man comes up and snarls something at him. He can only make out the word "chikan". The Japanese grabs his arm. He shuffles free. The train stops, and the door opens. He can feel the tide turning strongly against him, and he decides to jump off at this stop. The man stands at the edge of the train door, and points an accusatory finger directly at the British man. "CHIKAN!!" He screams. People turn and look.

The British man runs up the stairs, exits the ticket gates quickly, and makes his daring escape. If he had bothered to stick around and explain the situation, he would almost certainly have been placed into police custody, and he would have been stamped with the Japanese constitution smashing idea of ‘guilty until proven innocent’.

Just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished. Be careful out there.

For some extra reading - a fantastic reverse view into the Chikan phenomena is available here. A very interesting insight into a drunken Americans battle with the Japanese law is here.

Anyone who has lived for any length of time in Japan and knows a little bit of the language and culture knows the word chikan. The meaning of this word is a molester, but basically refers to a male who is prone to be a Peeping Tom, stealing woman’s underwear from their clothes lines, or even groping woman on the trains, catching a quick feel here and there, or pressing themselves into females. In other words, a pervert!

You can sometimes spot chikan ogling young school girls in their sailor uniforms. A brave woman or girl being molested or felt up on a train might blurt out, "chikan!" to warn others of his presence and have him taken down by others or arrested at the next train stop. It is because of this all too common practice in Japan and the prevalence of many chikan that nowadays there are "women only" cars during rush hour.

The female counterpart of chikan is "chijo" and basically has the same meaning, only referring to a female. And yes there are some chijo in Japan, but they are rare or hardly reported to the police. I mean what hot blooded male, in his right mind, would report that he was felt up by a woman on a train or other location other than to let all his friends know about it? I know I wouldn’t. And I didn’t report it either when it happened to me.

Yes, I was groped, or molested, or whatever you want to call it on a train by a female when I was a college student in Japan. I was shocked and awed at what happened, but I didn’t feel I was molested. No way, no how! In fact, after I got over the initial shock, I kind of enjoyed it and let her "take advantage" of me so to speak. Or at least, after I understood just what the hell was going on, let her "have her way with me." This is the story of that one and only experience I ever had with a chijo.

I was on my way back home from the university during rush hour and I didn¡Çt feel like waiting 20 minutes at the platform in Shinjuku for a seat on the Odakyu Express train that originated from there. I wanted to get home so I took my place in line for the next express train. I was ninth in the double line, so I knew I would not be getting a seat.

When the train arrived and all the people emptied out the left side of the train, the doors on the right side opened and everyone near the front scrambled for a seat. People are so desperate for a seat, especially after waiting 20 minutes, that they practically knock each other out of the way! Since I was so far back in the line I couldn’t get my favorite standing spot next to the door and was stuck standing near the door in the middle of the aisle. The train was crowded, but not very. I knew it would get worse at Yoyogi Uehara and Shimo Kitazawa, the next two express stops.

As usual, the crowd at Shimo Kitazawa at this time of the evening was large and the people were packed into the train. I mean we were so packed in that I didn¡Çt have to hold on to anything as the throng of people and the closeness of our bodies would keep me from losing my balance. That’s how close we were. It was so crowded that I hardly had any room to fold my magazine in quarters to read it.

As the train pulled out of the station all the people kind of moved backwards with the forward momentum of the train. One woman who had her back to me leaned into me with her butt and back. As the train gained speed and we were able to stand I kind of backed away from her an inch or so as I didn’t want her to think I was pressing into her or anything that may make her yell, "chikan!" and get me arrested or something.

It was about an 8-10 minute ride to the next express stop so I just got as comfortable as I could and began to read my magazine. To my astonishment the same woman in front of me moved back a little and placed her butt squarely in my crotch. I was startled and moved backward maybe a centimeter or so as there was virtually no room for me to move back much. I no sooner did that than she did it again. At first I thought it was an accident and, as there was no more room for me to move back without my pressing my butt into some guys crotch, I kind of arched my hips back a bit so my crotch wouldn’t be touching her butt. I no sooner did that than, again, she moved her butt against my crotch for a second time. Now I knew this was no accident. She was doing it on purpose.

I had heard that there were women, chijo, who sometimes did this on the train, but I had never personally experienced it myself in seven years of living there. I had heard that they did things similar to what chikan do, and I had even heard secondhand stories about how they would even grab a man’s crotch or massage his butt. Now I was experiencing it for the first time. Call me crazy, but I am a male and I was not about to let this experience with a chijo pass me by. If she was pitching, I was catching.

As she continued to press her butt into my crotch, I straightened up and, ever so lightly, proceeded to press my crotch back against her butt. The harder I pressed, the harder she pressed back and the harder I got! I remember thinking to myself, this is no accident. She’s actually encouraging this! So I pressed against her all the more. I shyly glanced around to make sure no one was looking at us, but it was really too crowded for anyone to really notice as we so packed together.

Throughout the entire ride to the next stop we pressed against each other so much it was as if we were making love. In a way we were making love. She would move her butt ever so slowly against my crotch in a circular motion, side to side, and then up and down a little. I couldn’t believe how aroused I had become and I responded in kind. All the while she had her head down pretending to read a book she had in her hands.

I never once saw her face, but I guessed she was in her 20’s. She had long black hair and was wearing what seemed to be a business suit. I could smell the hint of a nice perfume and the nice fragrance of her long shiny black hair. The top of her head came up to about my chin and we played our little "love making" game until the train pulled into the next station; her pressing against me and me responding in kind. I was so hard I couldn’t believe it. I thoroughly enjoyed her pressing her soft round butt against my rock hard crotch and enjoyed every minute of it. Any minute now and I knew I would have an orgasm.

As the train pulled into Seijo Gakkuen Mae station and the doors opened, she abruptly got off much to my dismay. I tried as best I could to get a look at her, but she had her head turned completely away from me, (probably on purpose) and I never even got a sideways glance at her face as she blended in with, and disappeared into the crowd. If she was beautiful I never knew, but I like to imagine she was as beautiful as my wildest fantasy.

As quite a few people got off at this station there was now room for me to stand in relative comfort and I took my usual place against the door for the remaining 20 minutes or so ride home. For obvious reasons I faced the door. The little tease had left me high and dry and frustrated, and I couldn’t wait to get home to "take care of my frustration!" Man was I turned on!

However, it was an experience I would never forget and I often think about it, with a smile, to this day, some 26 years later, of the chijo who had the nerve to molest a foreigner on a crowded train in Japan. (Something told me this was not her first experience.)

If chijo ever became so prevalent in Japan that they had to hav
e separate cars for men, women, and mixed, I’m pretty sure the men only cars would be empty or filled with men looking to have an experience with other men. I know I would not ride in a men only car. Co-ed all the way for me! I mean what hetero man in his right mind would ride in a male only car?

When I relayed this experience to my Japanese friends, both male and female, they didn’t seem all that surprised and both had said that, although rare, it is not unheard of for chijo to do that on trains. Maybe that is why men do it. Maybe, they are making the first move hoping they are interacting with, or hoping to find, a chijo. I don’t know. In my case it never happened again with a female although I have had more than a few men press themselves up against me both before and after this unique experience. In those cases, I either moved out of the way, got off at the next stop and then back on again, or found another spot quickly in the same or another car. But I didn’t make a scene and they never persisted or I may have ended up being arrested for assaulting someone.

Some of my Japanese friends even hinted that "she" might have been a male transvestite. I say who cares! If "she" was, so what! My mind, at the time, didn’t know the difference and thought for sure it was a woman and that’s all that mattered at the time.

After that exhilarating experience I often didn’t mind taking a crowded train at rush hour and kind of looked forward to it. In fact I often made it a point to take a crowded train for a while after that experience. But, I never experienced it again. And, I would never make the first move myself and press myself against a woman on purpose for fear of being called a chikan and maybe getting arrested. It is just not my style.

As a matter of fact, groping and the feeling up of women on trains has become so prevalent these days that the train companies in Japan are forced to have women only cars during the rush hour, especially in the mornings. Also, there are more than a few women these days on trains who yell "chikan!" and blame some innocent man for groping them when they never touched them. They do this so they can extort money from them in lieu of pressing charges. Therefore, if you happen to find yourself on a crowded train in Japan these days be real leery of any woman pressing herself up against you as she may just be trying to trap you.

Whoever you are, chijo-san, you gave a young man an experience he’ll never forget and one he’ll fondly cherish forever. And for that, being a hot blooded male at the time, I thank you. Heck, I would even savor it with as much delight today as I did back then, but times are different.

"How about 350,000 yen?" Bill said. Shane’s eyes widened.

HAHAHA ! BINGO WOOOOOOOOOO

"Well, " I pretended to muse, "That seems pretty reasonable, I think. I’m pretty sure that would allow me to do martial arts and live. It is lower than 400,000 yen, " I redundantly pointed out. "But I would much prefer to work for you guys rather than a large company. I accept."

Bill’s beady eyes streched back as his cold suspicious look turned into a triumphant smile. I could see his happiness at ‘grabbing me’ from a larger company at a cheaper rate. These little signs foreshadowed what was to come later.

In any case, for now everyone was happy. I was relieved and overjoyed that I had finally found a job. Bill was happy that he stole me from a larger company. Shane was happy because Bill was happy. We all ate, drank, laughed and celebrated what was going to become a successful business relationship - for 3 months anyway.

Anyway, we all left the restaurant, drunk, stupid and happy. We stumbled around outside for a while talking about nothing.

Then Bill said, "So, when can you start?"

"Whats today, Thursday? I don’t know, how about tomorrow?" I said, keen to start contributing and making a difference.

"Tomorrow?!" Bill exclaimed. "We need time to make the contracts and all that kind of bullshit. Why don’t you start on Monday?"

"Oh, um, yeah I suppose that would be fine." I replied, a bit forlorn.

"By the way, why do you look like shit?" Bill asked.

His words jarred me from my drunkenness, and I looked at him, shocked.

"Your clothes, they’re terrible. You call them business clothes? Why didn’t you wear something else?" Bill continued.

"Uhh… Well I didn’t…. um, the suit… that, um…" I burned red with shame at being caught with no money and shitty fashion sense.

"Hang on, you didn’t have anything, did you?" Bill caught on fast. If nothing else, Bill was a sharp guy.

I stood there, frowning, unsure how best to react.

Bill fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted off 5 sheets of 10,000 yen - about $500 US. He extended his cash-filled hand. "Go get yourself some respectable clothes."

I looked at the wad of cash in his hand. I pushed it away. "No thanks, I don’t need charity. I’ll work for my money."

Bill looked confused. "No, this is an advance from your salary. You didn’t think I was giving you the money did you?"

I stood my ground, unwilling to change my position.

"Look just take it. It’s coming off your salary, and I think you need it now. Here." He prodded me a few times with the money.

I stood looking at it. Well, it’s an advance from my salary, I reasoned. It’s my money. Theres no problem taking it, right? I reluctantly held out my hand and claimed the money. "Well….. I suppose it’s ok. Thanks a lot, thats really helpful." I said.

Bill smiled.

We drifted back to the station, and I promised to show up on Monday morning. I went home, and immediately paid back all my friends and told them about the good news. They were all supportive and happy for me. I went to sleep a happy man.

I woke up the next morning with a direction and a purpose for the first time in months. I threw some clothes on, and went shopping. I bought a couple of cheap shirts (available from various stalls and crappy shops around Tokyo). They’re functional, and they look pretty normal (if not a bit flimsy), but they start to discolour and fall apart after a few months as I later discovered. Next I found some cheap pants, a workable belt and some ties that weren’t too cheesy (but were still fairly cheesy). All put together, I looked like the perfect disposable salaryman. I nodded in confirmation at my reflection in a store mirror, and spent most of the remaining money in that shop.

The weekend passed in a flash. I turned up for work at 8:45am Monday morning, dressed to be passable. I walked in and met a couple more people. Looking back, these people were very forgettable, because within a few weeks, they would all be gone. They were quickly replaced with new, smiling faces, who would quickly burn out, and be replaced again. For all sorts of terrible reasons, the whole company was a revolving door for employees and clients, but I stood there decked out in my cheap attire, pleased as punch to be there.

I selected an empty desk and sat down. One of the guys setup an account for me, and I started downloading software and customising my PC. I was filled with jubilation - it was such a big novelty for me to get my very own phone, and computer. I even got my own filing cabinet, which I quickly filled with various stationary.

Within a couple of days I had once again established myself as a knowledge-base for various products, and people occasionally asked me for help. A few days later, one of the staff members called me over and asked me a question about Outlook. When he pointed to something on the screen, I caught a glimpse of the email he was writing. I’ve always been an extremely fast reader, and I absorbed a whole paragraph in one shot.

"………haven’t told any clients that I am leaving. All my work I had to complete is finished under the relevant client directories. I will be available for a couple of weeks after my final date to answer questions and……….."

I blinked. He noticed the email and quickly minimised it. I advised him on the solution to his problem, and returned to my desk troubled. I didn’t want to ask him about the email, since it was obviously secret. I looked around the room at the various staff members, and I wondered why he was quitting. I would later find out his predecessor had quit within 3 months. He was a relative veteran at 9 months.

Anyway, my training began awkwardly. There was no formal training process, but fortunately I picked things up quickly. One day, I was taken to a client site by Bill. We were setting up a rack filled with equipment in the middle of the city. I’ll never forget the name of the building - the KY building. Heh.

We walked in, and examined the rack. We made a quick plan as to the work we needed to get through. Or more accurately, Bill wrote down a list of the most borings tasks for me to do, and told me to go and do it. After a while, the client came over. A tall, sharp warm man who made me feel welcome.

"Hello, nice to meet you." He said, thrusting his arm out. I caught his hand in a firm handshake. "I’m Trevor."

Bill stood there uncomfortably as Trevor and I exchanged pleasantries. Trevor eventually excused himself, citing some urgent work he needed to do.

After Trevor was safely out of hearing distance, I said to Bill, "Wow. He seems like a very nice guy. I’m looking forward to working here."

Bill grinned in a twisted kind of way. "Yeah… and I’m looking forward to find more ways to screw him out of more money!!" Bill laughed out loud at his own joke.

What?! I thought with a start. Bill looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to laugh. Feeling dirty, I offered a forced chuckle.

Bill turned back to work, and I stood there full of conflicting emotions. Over the next few months, these feelings would only get stronger as I discovered the kind of people they were, and their ideas on acceptable business practice.

One morning I was a few minutes late for work (no, this was a different day to the coffee spraying incident). Shane sauntered over to my desk.

He cleared his throat as he leaned on my partition, in a perfect image of the boss from Office Space. "Morning, Firefly.&quot
; He cleared his throat again.

I was putting down my bag and turning on my computer.

"Uh, good morning Shane. How are you?"

"Uhhhhhhh…… do you know… what time it is?" Shane ignored my question, and cleared his throat again.

I looked at the time on my PC. "It’s 9:05." I said.

"Uhhhhhh…. yeah. And what time are you supposed to be here?" Shane said, while clearing his throat simultaneously.

I frowned. "9am?" I asked.

"Right." He fixed me with an extremely awkward half smile, and tapped his watch 3 times, and cleared his throat. "9am." he said.

An awkward silence hung in the air. I looked at him. He half-smiled at me, as though expecting to share a laugh with me at how late I was, and how ridiculous it was for me to 5 minutes late. I flatly returned his stare.

"Don’t worry, I already plan to stay back 5 minutes to make up for my tardiness." I said, devoid of any emotion.

Shane nodded, apparently satisfied, cleared his throat and returned to his desk. Management at it’s finest, I thought sarcastically.

I had many problems with them over the first few weeks. But since I was very grateful for my job when I was desperate for money and employment, I was very nice about all our disagreements. I was always very calm and relaxed, and I made a point to take the blame for everything, even when I was clearly in the right.

However just a few short months after I joined, we had our first major clash….

More next time.