My Japanese Job Interview

Friday afternoon, I was fortunate enough to be presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity. Takiyama Inc., one of the world's largest suppliers of affordable corn syrup (as well as a moderately successful greeting card exporter) called me in for a job interview. I had submitted my resume to them on a lark a few months back, never really expecting to hear back. Still, I had gone to great lengths to emphasize my two and a half year-long employment with a telemarketing firm that had used as their "hook" free tickets to the Japanese game show, "Crazy Crazy Happy Time". Though this bit of employment history had never done me any favors in the past, I thought this time might be different. Not only had I gained a passing familiarity with the Japanese spoken language, I had enveloped myself in the spirit of their culture. What do you know? Turned out that Shep Yin, the HR director for Takiyama was a big fan of that old show, and was eager to have a look at a bright young American who could speak Japanese.

I arrived at Takiyama's West Palm Beach American headquarters a little past three in the afternoon, and was immediately whisked through the lobby and invited to sit in a rather small office, which looked out onto the back lot of Lion Country Safari. I politely declined a cup of blueberry Slusho and tried to quell my nerves. Before I had a chance to collect my thoughts, she walked into the room.

She was a Japanese woman of about 40 years of age, dressed in smart business attire. Without needing to be introduced, I recognized this lady as Michiko Suzuki, Takiyama's North American president. I stood and shook her hand and bowed a little, as I had read on the internet to do.

We both took our seats. Suzuki folded her hands on her desk and the interview commenced.

Suzuki: So glad you could come to be interviewed on such short notice.

Me: Not a problem. I wasn't really doing any--I mean--I had to move some things around in my schedule, but I was more than happy to do that for such a great opportunity.

Suzuki: I'm very impressed with your work history, particularly your time with [consults resume]. . .Tel-Ling?

Me: Yes, it was a great learning experience. It was actually a privilege to learn Japanese and immerse myself in the ways of the Orient.

Suzuki (in Japanese): We are pleased to have fish and pigs with our beds.

Me: Uhh...huh. Come again?

Suzuki (in Japanese): We are pleased to have fish and pigs with our candle sex?

Me: duuuummm...yes?

Suzuki (in English): Your resume states that you are fluent in Japanese?

Me: Well, I wouldn't say fluent. I know quite a bit. Maybe I'm a little rusty.

Suzuki (in English): The position we're considering you for requires extensive knowledge of the language. I certainly can't have one of my reps "ummming" and "huh-ing" through a conference call.

Me: No, I get that, I get that. Let me give it another go. It's been a few years.

Suzuki (in Japanese): Cradle muffin can see the soul of telephone.

Me: Okay. So, did you just say, "Cradle muffin can see the soul of telephone"? Because it really just sounded like that's what you said.

Suzuki (in English): I said, "Perhaps you learned Japanese from a retarded baby."

Me: Oh. Heh ... that's not what I heard. Wow.

Silence.

Me: Sooo. . .I'm guessing that's a no on the job then?

Silence.

Me: I'll just let myself out.

Walking back to my car, I remembered something Jim Jenkins, my boss and Japanese language instructor at Tel-Ling Telemarketing had said. He had told me the Japanese dialect I was learning was only used in 1% of the world. And it wasn't even in Japan. It was a little town in southern Maine. I drove home, really wishing I had remembered that before the interview.