Serepax

Because the world needs more overwrought candour.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Scraps

I've been puzzling over what the word 'cute' means and what it evokes for a while now and I reckon I've finally cracked it. Men use 'cute' in reference to girls, small furry animals and children. Women tend to use it more for children and animals. But the emotion which the word describes is the same - it's protectiveness, a biological defence mechanism. So cuter children get more attention and do better out of life - it's in their interest to be cute. This is taken further when girl-children grow up and find that it's well and truly in their interest to be cute, to evoke protectiveness in men, because then they get more attention and presumably better protected, in an evolutionary sense. In that sense, makeup is an evolutionary strategy, as are clothes/plumage.

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Night is where humans make their own light. Osaka is utterly different at night than by day. A serious city, the swarming working heart of Japan by day; a neon paradise by night. People here work hard and play hard; the city inverts itself neatly every 12 hours, a tidal shift in the mood.

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I was thinking about hostess work and where it came from and then it clicked (god, I'm slow) - hostesses are the continuation of the geisha, the famous entertainers of men. Hostess bars are cheaper, more affordable and hostesses don't devote their lives to it. The work is looked down upon, but it permits Kiyono independence from her family and from men, if she so desires, which is a rare thing.

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I finally had a satisfying showdown with my fool of a boss last week. I wasn't planning it, but J (my sole fellow Australian) and I had been conducting whispered seditious conversations between our classrooms about Working Conditions, shit pay, the fact that a number of the other workers had seen the light and abandoned our kindie for a better paying one. So I was determined to Bring It Up with my boss when I went in to renew my contract. I was surprised at myself; because I don't respect this man at all, I went a lot further than I anticipated. I still have a job, but that's because he can't find anyone to replace me. I don't think I've ever been this honest with a person with some authority over me before. My opening gambit was this: the working conditions are bad, and that's why your staff keep leaving for better paying jobs. He sputtered a little and made some noises about how in any organisation some people are always unhappy but most people were happy with the wages. Here, I vacillated for a while before deciding to push on. Yes, I said, but most of your staff are not native speakers of English, and they're just grateful not to be doing sex work (the Filipinos) or biding their time waiting for professional jobs (it's the most overqualified kindie imaginable; three Nepalese with Phds, my fellow teacher, C, with a Masters in Early Childhood Education from the University of the Phillipines and there was a Nigerian scientist for a while as well). Hence, most of them can't get better paying jobs. But your native English speakers, such as myself, can easily get more money. And you need a smattering of white faces just for looks; sure, everyone speaks English well, but if you want to look like an English kindergarten, you need some native speakers. This wasn't received particularly well and he started smouldering. You know, he said abruptly, you're lucky I'm a nice boss. If you said this to your boss in Australia, you wouldn't have a job. (Nice veiled threat). For some reason, I didn't give a shit. It was a thrill, baiting this man, because he knew I didn't need the job anymore, not like I once did when I first arrived, poor and desperate. It was almost brinkmanship. My next move was to subtly introduce a nasty idea. Yes, I said, but in Australia I'd probably have a union I could turn to, to counterbalance the power of you-the-Employer. You know, it's in these sort of conditions that unions form (as if unions are a type of bacteria that need to be oppressed under just the right conditions). This was not well received and the conversation swiftly ended in stalemate, as he claimed to be unable to change pay rates and also to be ignorant of his promise earlier this year to lift wages and potentially introduce sick and holiday pay for long term staff (there's an idea!). I couldn't push it further, and the conversation died in a heap. There was an odd sense of compromise in the air, as if we were a couple and had just had a fight about a Serious Issue, and we danced around each other and made small talk and at the end, he wavered for a little while before ducking off and returning with goman, 500 bucks of contract deposit money I had given up all hope of seeing and that bought me off and mollified me nicely, I can tell you. I'll quit in a month or so, but I'm glad I was able to say what I thought. He did have one good point; the wages aren't bad if you're a Japanese woman, about on average. But I'm not and I don't have a Japanese salaryman to keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed; I haven't even stooped to sponging off Kiyono yet.