In July I had an opportunity to make a short trip back to Europe after several years of not traveling anywhere outside Japan. After a long and exhausting flight we arrived at the hotel and the first thing that came to my mind was shower. After I couldn’t find any shampoo or even soap supplied at the hotel, I made a quick enquiry at the reception. “M’am, I’m really sorry,” the clerk said after desperately trying to find something under the bar. “Seems like we’ve ran out of shampoo…” “That’s alright,” I said, “Do you have any idea where I can purchase it from?” “M’am,” she addressed me politely again,” It’s Sunday afternoon. I doubt you’ll find shampoo at that time. Can’t you wait until tomorrow?”
Sunday. What was she talking about? Isn’t there a convenience store near by? A supermarket? A kiosk? It was then when a sudden flashback hit me and I remembered how in the good old days we used to hurry up and finish with the groceries on Saturday, because if we missed doing so, there would be nowhere to buy food from. Yes, that’s right. No one in Europe works on Sundays. I mean, even God rested on the seventh day of the week, didn’t He?
I realized that by having lived in Japan this long I have become accustomed to take the word “rest” for granted. I went to Europe to meet my newborn niece and sister after hours of painful delivery, and yet I was feeling almost guilty for taking seven days off. I was told that I could take the time off only if I promised to work hard after my return, and to my surprise, I felt that I was obliged to be obedient, after all – they were giving me time off when no one else was asking for it. Yet, after my stay in Europe I just couldn’t stop thinking about those people I see on the train every morning – sleeping shoulder to shoulder, mouths wide open, every vibe of their bodies begging for just a little bit more snooze time on the train. I see the same scene in the evenings too.
For a long time Japan’s work policy was guided by a single principle – if you work hard and devote all your energy and potentials to your work, you will grow up to become a good and prosperous man. It was the principle during and after the war, where everybody’s hard work was a direct contribution to the building of a wealthy and healthy nation. The country’s prosperity was made possible by every citizen’s hard work – from early in the morning till late in the evening. People complied with the unwritten labor rules with no protest; on the contrary, it was considered a heroic act to give up one’s comfort for the well being of all.
It wasn’t until the late 80s and early 90s, however, when people began to notice that the working class is suffering from physical exhaustion caused by overwork, busy schedules, irregular work shift (often including work on weekends) and lack of mental and physical rest. The new syndrome became known as karoushi – or death caused by excessive physical exhaustion. While the first case of karoushi was way back in the good old days of 1969, such cases did not take the media’s attention until some twenty years later. The reason was that sudden death cases with no previous signs of health related problems started to increase drastically in the late 80s, causing a previously unseen epidemic among Japan’s working class. Among the very first statistics conducted by the Ministry of Labor stated that only between 1988 and 1999 there were approximately 3500 work related deaths, whereas the people who sought professional medical help was doubled. But again, those were just statistics. What was the reality, and what was the real number of over exhausted employees in Japan at the time, was something left to one’s imagination. What was obvious, however, was that day after day new articles and studies began to come out evaluating people’s work schedules and time they took for themselves and their families. Those studies gave horrifying results – fathers hardly ever met their kids as they were leaving the house before the kids woke up, and were coming back after they went to bed; hardly slept; hardly ate; and practically – hardly survived. Yet, work is work, and a man is a man only if he can stand the difficulties, pretend that nothing is wrong, and quietly continue working. While the term karoushi somehow lost its momentum in recent years, it hasn’t disappeared in its concept. It has simply transformed itself into a new threat – utsubyou – or depression. It is a public secret that a great number of Japanese people live on anti depressants, prescribed by personal doctors. The cause? Stress and lack of rest. A regular company employee has three to five days off in summer, four for the winter holidays, and about twenty paid days off for the whole year, whereas in Europe, for example, people have three to four weeks off only in summer, and yes, they gladly take full advantage of it.
Realizing that the problem is not only spreading, but it’s gradually killing its working class, Japan came up with a series of labor regulations, such as limitation of extra working hours, increase of paid vacations, even introduced a ‘flex system’ that allows employees to go to and leave work at their desired time, as long as they spend the regular eight hours a day at work. The problem, however, is that written laws and regulations are not always the best way for dealing with a problem. At the company I work at the moment, a woman is allowed to take a day off every month post or prior to her menstruation. But when the other day my colleague announced that she is taking the day off because of that, the rest of the colleagues looked at her and said “Well, we think you can do something about that, can’t you?” Awkwardly she said she doesn’t feel well and eventually took the day off, but this scene served as an example for the others to avoid using that given right. Same goes for paternal leaves, for example. By law every father is allowed some time off after the baby’s birth, and yet, the reality is that less than a few per cent of the Japanese males take advantage, or even are aware of the existence of the law. I try to explain to myself that it may be related to the traditional belief that the mother should take care of the kids while the father works, but part of me also tells me that, perhaps, there are other reasons for fathers to do so. Perhaps it is the fear caused by a society which believes that taking extra days off makes you irresponsible and lazy…no matter what the reason is.
I agree that it feels good when our needs as customers are satisfied right away; when we can purchase everything from food to stockings and tweezers in the middle of the night; or when our fridge brakes and we can expect the guy to come and repair it on the next day, showing up prepared and on time; or when there’s always a place to buy shampoo from even on Sundays. And yet, I sometimes wish that people just put on the “We’re closed” sign on the door, grab their bags and take the day off just for themselves…even if that would mean that I have to postpone my shopping for the next day.
