Me, My Job, and the Perverts
May. 24th, 2009 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akujunkanAs some of you already know, I have a job selling clothes in a really trendy Japanese store. Part of working in any such environment in Japan are two duties called "chirashi-kubari" and "kamban-mochi," which translate to "flyer handing-out" and "sign-holding" respectively. Prelude
I love chirashi-kubari. I'm really good at unloading loads of flyers onto people and what's more, they actually take them into the store and buy things. The problem is kamban-mochi. This duty involves holding an unwieldy, unbalanced, top-heavy, eight-foot sign with several items of clothing attached to the handle, for periods of up to an hour while shouting out at the top of your voice to passersby on the street the various merits of shopping at your place of employment.
Chirashi-kubari allows you to walk around, and you attract less attention to yourself because you are speaking to potential guests one-on-one at normal speaking volume. Not so kamban-mochi. I had a premonition the first time they sent me up that, as a Japanese-speaking Caucasian female, this would not go well for me. It did not.
Within ten minutes I had acquired a 30-something Japanese guy who was just...off. If you're a woman you know the type: can't quite shave properly, clothing that doesn't quite work, stands too close, doesn't do anything outrageous but just gives you the sense that you would be safer if he were not around. Anyway, the guy kept talking at me for the entire thirty minutes of my shift even after I'd made it clear that I was working and had no inclination to have a conversation with him. I headed back into the store, and explained to the Boss Boss's wife that I had been made very uncomfortable by this guy. She expressed sympathy, but you could tell she thought I was just trying to get out of kamban-mochi duty. I was told not to wear a nametag when I next reported for kamban-mochi duty.
Five minutes later I noticed Mr. Off floating around in the aisles while I straighten racks. I informed the store manager, who put me in back racking clothes. My shift ended three hours later and I cautiously headed out the employees' exit. I'd told Mr. Off my shift ended when the store closed, so I didn't think he'd be there but you can never be too careful.
Well, sure enough, he apparently showed up after the store had closed, asking for me. Since then, he has apparently been back regularly (luckily never when I've been working) and has said things that have made the managers and Boss Bosses so uncomfortable they actually had us doing chirashi-kubari indoors for several days. Not blowing me off now, are you Boss Wife?
It's only gotten worse. Yesterday I got a guy in his sixties who walked right up to me and started with, "Are you all alone, little girl?" No, I told him, and went back to shouting about how, for a limited time only, we're selling ladies' camisoles for \315 and mens' tshirts for \525. He continued to ask questions, finally escalating to an inquiry as to whether my nipples or clitoris were pierced. Although I longed to sock him in the face, the giant eight-foot sign in my hand kinda meant I was representing my employer, so I did my best gyaru impression and headed for an imaginary ally at the main door. He took off running. That was bad enough, but nothing like today.
Because oh, the freaks were out in force today. Usually I work the ten-to-six shift. Today I did one-to-nine-thirty. This meant that the Boss Boss's daughter was doing morning kamban-mochi duty in my stead. She apparently had it so bad the department store put a cop out front, and when I came to relieve her, she handed me a cell phone and the Boss's phone number with directions to call immediately if something happened.
So anyway, there I am, wondering what the hell was going to happen to me today when I spotted him. I knew right away it would be him because although it was nigh sweltering, he was wearing a long pants, a down jacket, and a scarf and hat that covered his entire face save his eyes. He also had on the sort of heavy gloves one sees bricklayers or factory machinists wearing. Also, he was masturbating into them.
So here he comes, strolling down the street at 2:20 pm in this ridiculous getup with his dick in his hands, when he notices the policeman. He stops and considers for a few moments, masturbating all the while, before turning and heading back the way he came.
I felt, after all this, that I deserved a trip to Book-Off. The largest Book-Off in the city is three storeys, which are connected by an external elevator. As I was riding the elevator down to the first floor I noticed a kid in his late teens/early twenties, kneeling a few steps below me. I figured he was just tying his shoes or something, but he noticed me behind him, stood up, and hurried off the elevator. It took me a moment to realise that he'd been taking a photograph up the skirt of the girl in front of him with his cell phone. Oh, Japan.
That will be all.
I love chirashi-kubari. I'm really good at unloading loads of flyers onto people and what's more, they actually take them into the store and buy things. The problem is kamban-mochi. This duty involves holding an unwieldy, unbalanced, top-heavy, eight-foot sign with several items of clothing attached to the handle, for periods of up to an hour while shouting out at the top of your voice to passersby on the street the various merits of shopping at your place of employment.
Chirashi-kubari allows you to walk around, and you attract less attention to yourself because you are speaking to potential guests one-on-one at normal speaking volume. Not so kamban-mochi. I had a premonition the first time they sent me up that, as a Japanese-speaking Caucasian female, this would not go well for me. It did not.
Within ten minutes I had acquired a 30-something Japanese guy who was just...off. If you're a woman you know the type: can't quite shave properly, clothing that doesn't quite work, stands too close, doesn't do anything outrageous but just gives you the sense that you would be safer if he were not around. Anyway, the guy kept talking at me for the entire thirty minutes of my shift even after I'd made it clear that I was working and had no inclination to have a conversation with him. I headed back into the store, and explained to the Boss Boss's wife that I had been made very uncomfortable by this guy. She expressed sympathy, but you could tell she thought I was just trying to get out of kamban-mochi duty. I was told not to wear a nametag when I next reported for kamban-mochi duty.
Five minutes later I noticed Mr. Off floating around in the aisles while I straighten racks. I informed the store manager, who put me in back racking clothes. My shift ended three hours later and I cautiously headed out the employees' exit. I'd told Mr. Off my shift ended when the store closed, so I didn't think he'd be there but you can never be too careful.
Well, sure enough, he apparently showed up after the store had closed, asking for me. Since then, he has apparently been back regularly (luckily never when I've been working) and has said things that have made the managers and Boss Bosses so uncomfortable they actually had us doing chirashi-kubari indoors for several days. Not blowing me off now, are you Boss Wife?
It's only gotten worse. Yesterday I got a guy in his sixties who walked right up to me and started with, "Are you all alone, little girl?" No, I told him, and went back to shouting about how, for a limited time only, we're selling ladies' camisoles for \315 and mens' tshirts for \525. He continued to ask questions, finally escalating to an inquiry as to whether my nipples or clitoris were pierced. Although I longed to sock him in the face, the giant eight-foot sign in my hand kinda meant I was representing my employer, so I did my best gyaru impression and headed for an imaginary ally at the main door. He took off running. That was bad enough, but nothing like today.
Because oh, the freaks were out in force today. Usually I work the ten-to-six shift. Today I did one-to-nine-thirty. This meant that the Boss Boss's daughter was doing morning kamban-mochi duty in my stead. She apparently had it so bad the department store put a cop out front, and when I came to relieve her, she handed me a cell phone and the Boss's phone number with directions to call immediately if something happened.
So anyway, there I am, wondering what the hell was going to happen to me today when I spotted him. I knew right away it would be him because although it was nigh sweltering, he was wearing a long pants, a down jacket, and a scarf and hat that covered his entire face save his eyes. He also had on the sort of heavy gloves one sees bricklayers or factory machinists wearing. Also, he was masturbating into them.
So here he comes, strolling down the street at 2:20 pm in this ridiculous getup with his dick in his hands, when he notices the policeman. He stops and considers for a few moments, masturbating all the while, before turning and heading back the way he came.
I felt, after all this, that I deserved a trip to Book-Off. The largest Book-Off in the city is three storeys, which are connected by an external elevator. As I was riding the elevator down to the first floor I noticed a kid in his late teens/early twenties, kneeling a few steps below me. I figured he was just tying his shoes or something, but he noticed me behind him, stood up, and hurried off the elevator. It took me a moment to realise that he'd been taking a photograph up the skirt of the girl in front of him with his cell phone. Oh, Japan.
That will be all.
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no subject
on 2009-05-26 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-27 04:15 am (UTC)