I chewed my hair. Started reading the torture that is a contract in Chinese, trying to find any unfair conditions or some loophole where our company could score some mega points. Actually, I was just trying to read the first sentence and got frustrated, thus the hair chewing.
Takada Boss: “Mary, you always nibble on your hair,” said my ultimate-cool-canprobablyruletheworldandkickyourass-woman-boss that sits next to me.
Mary: “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” （すみません）
Takada Boss: “Nothing to apologize about… but didn’t your mom ever get mad at you for chewing on your hair?”
Mary: “No, but my best friend did and always hit me good whenever she saw me do it.”
Takada Boss: “You’re like a cat. You know, cat’s eat their hair.”
Mary: “I remind you of a cat?”
Takada Boss: “Yeah. When they eat their hair too much, though, they get furballs. Do you get furballs too?”
Mary: “….I try my hardest not to, Takada-san. I try my hardest not to.”
I was in the car with Mr. Kumo, the 35-year-old Rico Suave of our digital team.
Mr. Kumo: “Your head must get messed up with so many languages in there.”
Mary: “Yeah, it hurts sometimes. I think my brain resembles pudding.”
Mr. Kumo: “BTW, my ex was an Italian girl.”
Mary: “Wow that’s amazing! How did you two meet?”
Mr. Kumo: “Italian girls are really good at flirting. I mean, I was just standing around smoking and then this Italian girl comes up to me and says in English ‘don’t I know you from somewhere?” and I said ‘YES!’
Me: “Wow, I didn’t know you could speak English.”
Mr. Kumo: “I can’t. Didn’t know what she was saying, but so glad I said yes. Ohhh yeaaa.”
Mary: “Dang. Those Italian girls are good.”
I was called down to the 7th floor for an emergency pitch meeting. I had absolutely nothing to do with the pitch, so I was a bit stunned as to why they so desperately needed my presence. I walked into a room full of 10 senior staff convening over a powerpoint presentation.
Boss A: “Mary, I’m so glad you could make it, we need you.”
Mary: “What can I assist you with?”
Mr. Kumo: “Yeah, what is Mary doing here?”
I shift uncomfortably.
Boss A: “This is a pitch for an international client in English. We need Mary here to prove to them that we’re global, and that this English isn’t Engrish.”
Mr. Kumo: “There’s just one problem with that. Look at Mary’s hair–it’s black. They’re not gonna know, man. She can go dye her hair blonde.”
Mary: “Uh, you seriously want me to dye my hair blonde tonight?”
Boss A: “Yeah. Let’s have Boss B go blonde as well while we’re at it.”
Boss B (who is very Japanese): “I think if I dye my hair blonde, we’re going to lose the client.”
(….and no, I didn’t dye my hair blonde)
*I see the young designer cower away from Takada’s desk and shuffle away*
Takada-san: “Mary, since you’re single now, make a man out of that herbivore man.”
*I smile to random employee as we cross paths in the hallway*
Random Employee: “You have the most beautiful smile.”
Mary: “You just made my day.”
Mary: “Takada-san, are you alright?”
Takada-san: “I’m so hungover. It hurts to breathe.”
Mary: “Drinkin late huh?”
Takada-san: “Went out with Suntory last night. They made me drink every alcoholic mix possible.”
Mary: “And you drink like a sailor. Damn, you must have really chugged it last night.”
*Takada-san does a face plant into the desk*
Nothin like seein your boss hungover.
*At a huge CEO meeting in Beijing*
Japanese CEO A: “Look at all these white people here. It makes me sick to my stomach.”
Mary: “Uh, sir, I’m technically white as well.”
Japanese CEO A: “Oh yeah. Forgot. Well, whatever, let’s have another drink. Cheers to the USA!”
And the best for last…
Super Famous CEO A: “So I need all of your clients and profits and accounts–stat. You give me that info and maybe we can work something out.”
Japanese CEO B: “If I may ask, do you have a per-existing format that I need to use for submitting those documents?”
CEO A laughs and slams his hand on the table.
Super Famous CEO A: “Yeah, it’s called excel, buddy.”