One of the first things that struck me about shopping in Japan was the level of service. Walk into almost any shop, no matter what price bracket and they lavish even the most blatant browsers with rapt attention.
Japan to me epitomises ritualised, formal politeness. Here, customers are addressed honorifically as “O-kyaku-sama”. Honorifically! As a Londoner, in the pricier shops, I am accustomed to being ignored, as I do not have the power to dispel the snootiness from sales assistants with the flash of a black card.
At the other end of the price spectrum – read Primark, any sports store, Argos – I am also accustomed to playing the invisible customer, mainly because the staff are incompetent (underpaid) sixteen year olds. I am not exaggerating, as a student I racked up a few years in the retail sector and I am sure I was quite incompetent when I was sixteen working in Debenhams!
Walk into any store here and hear cries of “irashaimase” from every member of staff in the vicinity. Sales assistants appear eager to help you in any way. If you do not understand much Japanese, it can be overwhelming to have all this chatter and enthusiastic cries aimed at unassuming little you! Yet I prefer hearing it to; “are you okay there?” Am I okay where? I don’t know if it’s just my pet peeve, but when did this become the phrase to offer customers help?
However, after a few weeks, this all begins to wear thin. While the Japanese do in fact aim to treat every customer with respect, the smiles become fixed and the welcoming cries soon sound robotic, as if they had already been uttered 500 times that day (which is highly probable). I recently read an article about a video camera that reads the smiles of a company’s staff and determines whether they were genuine! The Japanese clearly mean business when it comes to serving customers. Yet I wouldn’t blame these shop assistants for being unable to remain maniacally cheerful all day. And to be honest, as long as I am getting served, I don’t mind if the smiles are not as authentic as those between best friends.
So if you fancy being treated like a king or queen while shopping… genuinely or otherwise, Japan’s your kind of place. But be warned, when you return home, the next time you hear a droning “are you okay there?” with an underlying tone of “I really couldn’t give a damn”, you may find yourself haughtily demanding to be treated like an honorable kyaku-sama!
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