While traveling abroad, I found myself for various reasons on an excursion, accompanied exclusively by other Japanese, being led into a room for “carpet viewing.”

　　The shop’s boss launched into a sales pitch in Japanese, explaining how the carpets of his nation were “far superior” to those of the neighboring countries, while two men came forward hugging a rolled up carpet as big around as a tree trunk, then spread it out with a flourish.

　　“What do you think? This one is only 1 million yen. How do you like it? No? I see. Well, have a good look.”

　　On top of this carpet the men spread out a second.

　　“This one is silk. Only 6 million yen. How about it? Have a look.”

　　And on top of this one another. And yet another. They kept spreading them out. Over 10 carpets piled up. Putting them all back again is going to be a real pain for these guys, I thought.

　　“You won’t know how good these carpets are just by looking. Try standing on them,” we were instructed. At first, some people did try standing on the carpets, but sensing the intense pressure of the situation, they soon found themselves backing away into the room’s walls.

　　“Japanese homes are small, right? We have small carpets, too.” This time they produced some doormats. 70,000 yen. Then they produced some bags. “Have some tea.” They served us some local tea. A seemingly endless parade of stuff was brought out for us.

　　We were all thinking: we can’t leave until someone buys something! Someone please take the bullet and buy something! Perhaps our prayer was heard. A man the salesman had been casually eying began to haggle.

　　“You said this one was 1.4 million? Could you knock it down to 400,000?”

　　Maybe he was hoping to sabotage the negotiations from the outset with this reckless attempt. The carpet man kept his cool though.

　　“Please, consider the feelings of the weavers,” he said.

　　A foreigner saying “Please, consider the feelings of …”? I was interested now. How did he know this phrase was the secret weakness of the Japanese people? I hadn’t been paying attention on this trip, but this guy was a real pro.

　　If things went on like this, then just maybe… But no. That could never happen. Yet it did.

“Okyakusan, kibishiina-. Sonna tsumetai koto, iwantoite.” (You’re a tough customer! Come on… have a heart!)

　　The carpet salesman had slipped into Kansai dialect. He took on the character of a “Kansai native.” (1)

　　I won’t be so bold as to write about how this battle concluded, but needless to say the carpet salesman was on the offensive all the way.

　　To the person who taught that carpet salesman Japanese: come on out! Come out and write an essay on Japanese communication. Please.

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