My father always loved Japan so much that we lived in Tokyo for many years. As a matter of fact, my vacations from college, important times in one’s life, were spent listening to Edith Piaf in a café in Ropponggi. We had a very active shipping office in Tokyo at that time which was staffed by Japanese and Filipino managers who were in constant motion, never relaxing out of tension mode. On the floor above was my parents’ apartment that smelled of grass paper and exuded a calm reflective of the Japanese garden outside the living room. The place had been fitted with a sound system that played elevator music all day. We lived on another floor with our beloved housekeeper, Chizuoko-san, who wholeheartedly greeted us "Irashaimase" when we came home. Tokyo was familiar and was home until my father moved his base to Hong Kong in the mid- ’70s.
I never realized until recently why my father appreciated Japan so much. Perhaps it is because what felt to me like a rigid and structured lifestyle overwhelmed me. In addition, I had a fear of not being taken seriously as a girl. For example, one Japanese guest asked me for coffee before I could give him my name card. So as not to embarrass him, I brought the coffee, left the room, and came back to try again. I also used to panic with Japanese precision as far as time is concerned. I will never forget my first ship launching experience when I was 18 years old. My father had asked me to represent him for the three-day activity outside of Tokyo. The schedule was stated, not by the hour but by the minute – "6:23 a.m. – Meeting at the lobby"! I did not sleep for two nights so I would not be late.
One day, many years later, I watched a Japanese film called Tompopo, about a noodle shop owner and her quest for the perfect ramen noodle dish. The movie impressed upon me the extent with which the Japanese go through to achieve high levels of quality – so much so, that we organized a management meeting around the film. That moment, I realized that what I saw as rigidity was instead honoring and respecting all action. One sees this so clearly in the way a sushi or yakitori chef prepares food as if it were a piece of art. Or the way everyone is expected to keep time to the minute if one needs to catch a train, for example. One experiences great respect when the Japanese welcome guests or strangers alike, to department stores, restaurants or to a home. There is great respect in every minute of life in Japan – as if every action were an offering or a ceremony. There is no embarrassment in taking things seriously – whether setting up a dinner table seating plan – or organizing an itinerary. I also see the intensity of honoring problems- like a vessel breakdown, or a delay in delivering a service or an agreement that is broken.
I believe that we can learn from this great tradition of honoring all action. After all, honor and respect are the greatest manifestations of caring for each other and us. When I think of the number of times that I have been late or kept someone waiting, or when I took an invitation to someone’s party lightly, and worse, felt inconvenienced, I will try to remember how it feels in Japan to be honored and respected.
Perhaps, all of us, myself included, can come to agreement to institute the Japanese practice of honoring and respecting time. If Japanese standards for schedules are stated and kept in minutes, what if we were to commit to keeping within 10 minutes – plus or minus of any activity. If we were to improve our record with time, then we would stop annoying each other, resulting in increasing our productivity.
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