Last time, I probably brought up the stewardess ―flight attendant rather― because I was writing in an airport.
I finished the column, then immediately got on an airplane to go on a business trip. My seat was just behind the exit row. Before takeoff, the flight attendant approached me and graciously informed me that “In this row you cannot put your luggage under the seat, so I’d like to put it in the overhead bin.” Furthermore, the attendant said: “Is there anything fragile in your luggage? If you have a laptop computer, I can’t put it in the bin, so please remove it from your luggage. We will keep it safe for you.”
Naturally. I handed over my computer. The attendant gracefully took it, went to gently place it in the storage area and… instead dropped it right on the floor.
Eek!
My research data! My reference notes! The drafts of my essays! The draft I just wrote for the 54th installment of “An Unofficial Guide for Japanese Characters!” I briefly screamed like the man in Munck’s picture, before someone shoved the computer into my hands and led me out of the plane. I learned that this was because, according to aviation laws, it is illegal to operate a computer during takeoff. Outside the plane, I nervously switched on my computer, checked to see that it wasn’t broken, and was then guided back to my seat. The whole time, the attendant who had dropped my computer repeated the phrase: “Watakushi no fuchuui de moushiwake arimasen!” (I am so sorry for my carelessness). As you’d expect, the attendant was not smiling as usual, but rather wore a grave expression.
Previously, I said that in Japan, always smiling at everyone is the foundation of the “good person” character and that Japanese flight attendants are modeled on this character. Is this flight attendant, who didn’t smile while apologizing, a counterexample of this? Of course not. Nobody can smile cheerfully while sincerely apologizing. Even if smiling is the foundation of the “good person,” a foundation is just a foundation; there are bound to be exceptions. When apologizing, a truly “good person” does not smile. So the attendant, who put on a grave expression while apologizing to me, did not step outside the boundaries of the “good person” character.
Does the “good person” diminish their essential “good person-ness” to the extent by which they suppress their normal smile when apologizing? Of course not. I need to emphasize that it is precisely in this exceptional situation―apologizing―when the “good person” character comes into its own. The secret “apologizing power” of the “good person” is formidable.
“Good person” characters place themselves “beneath” others, become flustered, lose their composure, become nervous, and are humble when apologizing. In Japanese society, this is the quintessence of a sincere apology. Just saying “Sorry!” or “I apologize” lacks “sincerity” and is “not an apology.” This is well-known to the CEOs who, when giving a formal apology, throw aside their “boss” characters and get down on their knees in tears, presenting a pathetic spectacle. They must not, under any circumstances, deliver the apology calmly and briskly.
Some young people believe that this is the old-fashioned way to do things. Their younger, cooler generation does thing differently. But this old man doesn’t buy it. What about the students that come begging for course credit with unasked-for tears, clinging to my arm in a most unseemly way, because they failed their final exam? This old man has seen too many of them.
