A funny thing about expat-living and the Japanese concept of Omotenashi that you can apply to everyday life
A funny thing happened to me yesterday while I was riding my bike in the middle of Tokyo.
I was pedalling a bit too quickly and rather recklessly on the sidewalk. I was late to meet a friend and was not paying attention. In my haste, my mobile phone bounced out of my handbag and onto the street. I never realized that it was missing, not until I reached my destination.
But, what happened next was the crazy thing.
Someone, someone that I never met and never will, took my phone to the nearest KŌban (police box) where I retrieved it, safe and sound, the very next morning.
While this would be a bit shocking in any other city, it is simply normal here. You can almost rest assured that your lost belongings, from a personal computer left on the Shinkansen (新幹線 – bullet train) to a wallet at a club, all will be safely returned to your possession.
I begin to think more deeply - in silent wonderment. I am living amongst the Japanese people and their deep-seeded culture and I have very little insight or understanding. I lack any sensitivity towards it.
As an ex-New Yorker and city dweller, I have had my brand new handbag swiped off the back of my chair in a London hotel, my mobile phone snatched off of a posh restaurant table and my family home in Switzerland broken in to while my children were sleeping upstairs. Hence-wence, I was stunned.
Which elements of my surroundings should I be soaking in like the last rays of summer?
I began to consider the Japanese concept of Omotenashi, which means 'to entertain guests wholeheartedly'. Omotenashi has been a buzzword surrounding Japan since Tokyo won the bid to host the 2020 Olympics. But, as I suspected, there are much deeper, more meaningful roots to the concept.
If you have visited Tokyo, perhaps you experienced Omotenashi yourself?
The taxi door that automatically opens and closes for you, the incredibly useful little machine that you put your dripping umbrella into and it pops out with a tidy bag around it or perhaps the toilet seat that pops open when you enter the WC. Nothing expected in return, just small little gestures of kindness and welcome.
But why?
Coming from Western culture, it is easy to get lost in the service routine here. While a waiter in a café in New York City or Paris would turn their nose up at a too-little tip for shoddy service, you could easily cause an embarrassment by tipping at all in Tokyo.
Omotenashi is rooted in the concept of mutual respect.
While it is believed that one should offer the best level of service without the expectation of a reward, the client does have a responsibility to appreciate the service as it is.
For example, when I am at the bakery on Sunday mornings, grabbing bread and croissants for the children, I will often wag away the kind offering to wrap the goods with bows and bags. For me, it is a waste of time and paper to have such gorgeous trimmings around something we are about to unwrap and devour. However, you can imagine that my practicality and haste might be offensive.
The reciprocal behaviour to impeccable service is appreciation. You should show your gratitude, not with money, but with gratefulness.
The culture of Omotenashi suggests that the guest should be made to feel like god
But what if the guest prefers the service another way?
I read a classic story about Japanese 'high level of service' where the bellman picked up the woman’s suitcase as she was checking into the hotel. He began walking away with it, and she tried to grab them back. A silent tug-of-war ensues and the culture clash is palpable. The bellman is doing his job and treating his client with the utmost respect, by assuming that their luggage should be carried directly to their room. The guest either thought he was doing a runner with her bags, or simply preferred to carry them on her own. Either way, both parties left the situation feeling slightly misunderstood.
This quirkiness can be experienced often at restaurants in Tokyo. Many times the salad or sandwich can and will only be served as it is written on the menu. No changes, no substitutes. The customer should appreciate the meal as the chef intended it. I laughed quite hard at a friend when he was ordering the pizzas at his daughter’s birthday party. The location offered pizza with cheese, potatoes and salami. He asked for pizza with cheese only. They replied, "No, we don’t have that."
It is a sometimes funny, once in a while frustrating twist, but can you just see the benefits of adjusting our minds and our actions, even if ever-so-slightly towards the concept of Omotenashi?
The consideration and the thought often leaves me thinking, “How did they think of that?
In business, in my personal life, in child rearing, I am positive that a little bit more thought and consideration could be sprinkled in. If I think back to all of the places I have visited, I begin to consider where I really feel like a guest? Where do I feel comfortable and appreciated? What makes me feel this way?
For me, it is usually those small acts of kindness that touch me the most. Those little gestures that are unexpected and so simple are the ones I remember.
I also love luxury and a good stay in the Four Seasons, for example, where all of the staff have been briefed and taught the right way to treat a guest. I always leave a stay there feeling a little bit like a princess.
But there is something that melts my heart a little bit more. When someone is modest and generous, even beyond their means….those situations really stand out to me.
We rented a beach house in Shimoda (a beach town located in Shizuoka Prefecture) which was wonderful and spoiling and all the rest. But, the most vivid thing I remember from that holiday? The wonderful and kind parking attendant across the street, Kamei. Why he treated us so sweetly and where he got the money to bring us fresh fruits and vegetables each day I will never know. His pride in the local produce and the village itself, perhaps is what motivated him. But everyday, with nothing to gain or lose, Kamei would delight us with some little gift.
A touch of kindness and loads of good humour make every guest feel welcome
And I compare this with my own behaviour. The first alarm bells that go off is my parenting style. I will often lose my marbles with one or the other of my three children when I feel under appreciated. When one of them moans that they “Don’t waaannnt to clear the taaablllle” I simply crack. I begin to let them know (in a very unsophisticated manner) that they might consider if I wanted to plan the menu, or go to the grocery store, or prepare the meal or serve it to them? Perhaps I also had other things I needed / wanted to do?
Of course my children appreciate the things I do for them. Or maybe they just don’t. Either way, I am making that meal because I want the best for them, because I love taking care of them and because I believe that their needs are crucial.
And of course I expect that they act appreciative. But they won’t always do that because they are human and they are children. I imagine a symbiotic relationship, laced with understanding and perspective.
At the end of the day, when my phone was returned to me,
I received a telephone call. It was the police bureau phoning to ask me some questions about the lost and found property.
She informed me (in perfect English) that it was customary in Japan to reward a person who turns in lost items.
Would I be willing to offer a reward to the kind soul who turned in my phone, if they were to come forward? “Yes, of course,” I answered.
Would I be willing to receive another phone call at this number regarding this issue? “Yes, of course,” I answered.
And then I asked “But if the person wanted to be rewarded, wouldn’t they have given their details at the same time that they turned in my phone?” No answer.
“Do people generally take the offered reward for turning in lost property?” I continued, immediately aware that I had been too direct and might have made the woman on the other end of the line feel uncomfortable.
After a slightly awkward pause she answered, “No, madame. Generally not.”