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Monthly Archives: April 2009

Somewhere in Hong Kong.    

“Japan Office is finally making money. Decent margin. Surprised those yellow monkey boys can actually accomplish anything in that country. Their advertising is wretched, I can’t understand anything – clearly they know nothing about advertising.”

“In that case, we’d better send over a ‘highly-overpaid-Rising-Star-only-because-he-kissed-your-ass-literally-every-day-for-a-year’ to ‘grow’ the office to global standards.”

“I think that would be a smashing way to get rid of that chap, Fart Flare.”

“Splendid, I’ll toss him a big bonus to take on the new challenge. Opens up that planning position so I can hire more friends who introduce me to hairless little brown boys.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo.

Heh? New New Shacho is coming to ‘effect change,’ ‘visionize’ and ‘fornicate with Japanese women.’ Again.”

Jah, you think New New Shacho speaks any Japanese?”

Sah, Old New Shacho stayed for six years and never even learned to say ‘thank you’ in nihongo at the Royal Colonial Masters Club and Steam Baths. What do you think?”

 

Six months later in Hong Kong.

“Oh, I say, Japan Office is starting to show monthly losses – expenses are skyrocketing.”

“Tell Fart Flare to get that fucking margin back up and deliver on target or he can’t have a villa in Bali like the El Supremo de Supremo Executivo Regional ECD.”

“Let’s send in a Regional Finance Director like that wanker over in corporate to fix the fucking cashflow, I’ve got to get my bonus so I can buy a Teak Plantation filled with hairless little brown boys. Sniff.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo.

“Cut costs by firing all the Japanese staff that I don’t like, or don’t like me, or don’t speak English. I have enough bleeding problems without having to learn the damn language here. Oh, and fire those girls I impregnated in a Coke(tm)-fueled frenzy.”

“But, Sire, that would violate the Labor Standards Law, triggering a mandatory on-site inspection of the office and your residence, and anger the company labor union who will want more pension guarantees.”

“Doesn’t anybody understand English around here, do precisely what I say. Spit. Spit. Spitttttt.”

Wakarimashita, velly solly, your worship baka-chinko-unko-sama. Moushiwake gozaimasen deshita.

 

Somewhere in Hong Kong.

“What’s wrong with Japan?, sniff, profit margins are shrinking, regional clients are crawling up my ass, and the Labor Union has sound trucks in front of the office.”

“Send in ‘Very Expensive Creative Talent’?”

“Yes, let’s get rid of that arrogant old fart who won all the awards we never could. Never liked his attitude.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo.

Neh. Neh. New Shacho get drunk, smash car into police box, ha-ha, so sorry.”

Eh? Very Expensive Creative Talent is getting drunk every night and bonking all the Roppongi Girls, even the ones that are really Guys.”

Uso! Did you hear Very Expensive Creative Talent-san apartment is bigger than the Emperor’s Palace but he stays at Park Hyatt?!”

Majii? I hear New Shacho get drunk again at JAAA party, insult Japanese women, then try to sumo CEO of Dentsu. Dentsu shacho laugh, kick his balls, throw through plate glass sushi display. Ha-ha, so sorry.”

 

Somewhere in Hong Kong.

“Global CEO just chewed me a new sphincter and I don’t like it one b-bb-bbb-bit-tt-ttt-ttt! You must take care of the Japan Office at once. Or I won’t be able to buy an island in polynesia filled with hairless little brown boys.”

“The most tax-advantaged move is to declare immediate bankruptcy to avoid legal fees and severance costs. Then, create a company under a different name because no one will know the difference.”

“Splendid. Promote Fart Flare to Regional Not-quite-CEO-but-Still-Really-Big-Shit so it won’t look like he was to blame.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo. One year later.

Kiita? WPIPNICOM is launching a new kind of ‘let’s show those yellow monkey boys how real advertising is made’ creative hotshit hotshop called “Baka|Chinko|Unko”

Shoganai ne

Shoganai yo

“You take job there?”

Hai. 30% base up plus bonus.”

Yatta na.

Yatta yo.

(Fade to Black)

Somewhere in Hong Kong.    

“Japan Office is finally making money. Decent margin. Surprised those yellow monkey boys can actually accomplish anything in that country. Their advertising is wretched, I can’t understand anything – clearly they know nothing about advertising.”

“In that case, we’d better send over a ‘highly-overpaid-Rising-Star-only-because-he-kissed-your-ass-literally-every-day-for-a-year’ to ‘grow’ the office to global standards.”

“I think that would be a smashing way to get rid of that chap, Fart Flare.”

“Splendid, I’ll toss him a big bonus to take on the new challenge. Opens up that planning position so I can hire more friends who introduce me to hairless little brown boys.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo.

Heh? New New Shacho is coming to ‘effect change,’ ‘visionize’ and ‘fornicate with Japanese women.’ Again.”

Jah, you think New New Shacho speaks any Japanese?”

Sah, Old New Shacho stayed for six years and never even learned to say ‘thank you’ in nihongo at the Royal Colonial Masters Club and Steam Baths. What do you think?”

 

Six months later in Hong Kong.

“Oh, I say, Japan Office is starting to show monthly losses – expenses are skyrocketing.”

“Tell Fart Flare to get that fucking margin back up and deliver on target or he can’t have a villa in Bali like the El Supremo de Supremo Executivo Regional ECD.”

“Let’s send in a Regional Finance Director like that wanker over in corporate to fix the fucking cashflow, I’ve got to get my bonus so I can buy a Teak Plantation filled with hairless little brown boys. Sniff.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo.

“Cut costs by firing all the Japanese staff that I don’t like, or don’t like me, or don’t speak English. I have enough bleeding problems without having to learn the damn language here. Oh, and fire those girls I impregnated in a Coke(tm)-fueled frenzy.”

“But, Sire, that would violate the Labor Standards Law, triggering a mandatory on-site inspection of the office and your residence, and anger the company labor union who will want more pension guarantees.”

“Doesn’t anybody understand English around here, do precisely what I say. Spit. Spit. Spitttttt.”

Wakarimashita, velly solly, your worship baka-chinko-unko-sama. Moushiwake gozaimasen deshita.

 

Somewhere in Hong Kong.

“What’s wrong with Japan?, sniff, profit margins are shrinking, regional clients are crawling up my ass, and the Labor Union has sound trucks in front of the office.”

“Send in ‘Very Expensive Creative Talent’?”

“Yes, let’s get rid of that arrogant old fart who won all the awards we never could. Never liked his attitude.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo.

Neh. Neh. New Shacho get drunk, smash car into police box, ha-ha, so sorry.”

Eh? Very Expensive Creative Talent is getting drunk every night and bonking all the Roppongi Girls, even the ones that are really Guys.”

Uso! Did you hear Very Expensive Creative Talent-san apartment is bigger than the Emperor’s Palace but he stays at Park Hyatt?!”

Majii? I hear New Shacho get drunk again at JAAA party, insult Japanese women, then try to sumo CEO of Dentsu. Dentsu shacho laugh, kick his balls, throw through plate glass sushi display. Ha-ha, so sorry.”

 

Somewhere in Hong Kong.

“Global CEO just chewed me a new sphincter and I don’t like it one b-bb-bbb-bit-tt-ttt-ttt! You must take care of the Japan Office at once. Or I won’t be able to buy an island in polynesia filled with hairless little brown boys.”

“The most tax-advantaged move is to declare immediate bankruptcy to avoid legal fees and severance costs. Then, create a company under a different name because no one will know the difference.”

“Splendid. Promote Fart Flare to Regional Not-quite-CEO-but-Still-Really-Big-Shit so it won’t look like he was to blame.”

 

Somewhere in Tokyo. One year later.

Kiita? WPIPNICOM is launching a new kind of ‘let’s show those yellow monkey boys how real advertising is made’ creative hotshit hotshop called “Baka|Chinko|Unko”

Shoganai ne

Shoganai yo

“You take job there?”

Hai. 30% base up plus bonus.”

Yatta na.

Yatta yo.

(Fade to Black)

InvisibleGaijin has been a Salaryman, both the work-yourself-to-death-by-quietly-taking-shit-every-day Japanese kind and the fully-loaded-ex-pat-who-hangs-out-at-the-American-Club-talking-shit-about-Japanese kind.

For my generation, being a loyal, dedicated, hard-working Salaryman was a good thing. Wearing a non-descript-so-you-don’t-stand-out-too-much suit from Takashimaya, wedged into the Odakyu train every morning like soybeans into tofu, chain-smoking Seven Stars, drinking Kirin Lager, and slowly working one’s way up to Exalted-but-do-nothing-Bucho-ness — that was the life all good boys aspired to (or at least the life their kyoiku mama‘s programmed them for). 

Even as a third-generation Japanese-American born and raised on the streets of South Central Los Angeles, “having a good career” meant: go to good university, get degree, get white collar professional job, get married to approved-by-mom-nice girl, have 2.3 children (1.4 children in Japan), work ass off for 30 years, then enjoy retired life on a pension.

Even though I was once a I-make-way-too-much-money-thus-I-am-a-god kind of executive-asshole, I eventually realized there must be more in life than the endless pursuit of corporate profit. Especially when the other boys got bigger bonuses than me just because they liked kissing the board’s ass, exploiting the loyalty of local staff, and lying to Clients.

Oops, sorry, that should read: “being a team player, empowering staff, and creating value for Clients.”

In my early middle age, I reached the point where I said, “f**k that!” and pulled the pin, resigned my executive position, burned my suits, and tossed my briefcase into the gomibako.

The Salaryman in me died that day. Actually, I snuck up behind him in a dark alley, popped a cap in his head, and stood over the corpse, saying, “who’s your otou-san now?”

In the Death of a Salaryman began the Journey of the InvisibleGaijin.