When I worked at American Honda Motor Company, I experienced the Japanese culture up close and personal. It was culture shock for me, on a personal level in the way Japanese men treated women, and on an intellectual level in the way Japanese men treated men.
I worked for American Honda in 1966, a bit before the "women's rights" movement was in full swing in America. In the working world back then, even in America, most women did not expect ever (much less quickly) to become managers. With few exceptions, the Boss was a Man. I didn't see that as a problem. It was the way the world had always been. Movers and shakers were mostly men. If and when women worked in the man's world, she was usually a helper to get done what he planned or ordered. That was not a problem for me. I just wanted a job, wanted to work, and wanted my work to be meaningful and helpful to someone and interesting to do. Most of the women I knew seemed to feel the same way.
There have always been men who were arrogant, who treated women with disrespect, men who were greedy, dishonest, and unfaithful. You can find such characters in the Bible, and all through the history of the world, as well as in legends and fairy tales. Women, too are not exempt from the sinful nature of man-kind. Historically, women have been vulnerable, because they need to be protected and nourished in order to birth and raise the next generation.
I had grown up accustomed to men who at least aspired to be gentlemen. They opened doors for me, allowed me to go through, and closed doors behind me. Kind. Polite. Gentlemen. They made me feel like a lady in the old-fashioned sense of the word. It didn't occur to me back then to feel diminished because I was not expected to change a tire or carry a heavy burden. I knew I was strong and capable, even smart; but when a gentleman opened a door for me, I felt... Cherished.
My Japanese boss-man at American Honda (I'll call him Mr. E.) was a young man who had grown up in Japan and had been educated to be a close assistant to Mr. Honda, who had started Honda Motor Company and grown it to a huge corporation. Even though the Automobile Department (in America) was not yet (in 1966) importing Honda cars, plans were in place to do so eventually. The Automobile Department was highly honored, and I had the honor of being hired as the first Secretary in that department. I was a personal secretary to Mr. E. and two American guys who were researching the American automobile market. We made charts and graphs to show how sales of "imported" cars were comparing to sales of "domestic" cars in America.
Originally when I was hired, our whole department consisting of Mr. E., the two American men, and myself had desks in the Fishbowl. That was the enormous room with a glass wall facing the busy boulevard. The bosses sat along the outside wall and all the women and other "lesser folks" were in the middle, everyone in plain view of everyone else. Also, everyone could hear everyone else's conversations on the phone or in person. The Japanese men spoke in Japanese and very loudly.
I was delighted when after a few weeks, the four of us in the Automobile Department was moved to a "private office" on the other end of the building. It had been the private office of a top Japanese executive, an older guy who had returned to Japan when Mr. E. came to America, but who "might return at any time." Therefore, his big executive desk which filled one quarter of the room remained in place, unoccupied, waiting for his possible return. Three smaller desks and my compact secretary's desk filled the other three quarters of the room.
"This is quite crowded but quite quiet," I thought. When the two American men were out in the field, that left only Mr. E. and me working in the room. "Yay," I thought. "Now I can hear what I'm thinking and get something done..."
Wrong. If Mr. E. did not get on the phone and spend hours in loud (on his part) conversations with someone in Japanese, our "neighbor," the Japanese Manager of the American operations, would come and visit with Mr. E. They would shout at each other in Japanese with a straight face, gesturing, then laughing loudly. I never understood why they talked so loudly. It drove me crazy. I was supposed to be combing statistics out of the Wall Street Journal and other newspapers, but I couldn't think straight with all the noise pollution in the room. To those men, though, it was as if I didn't exist. I wondered if they expected me to go outside the room and talk with the older boss's Japanese secretary whose desk was out there in the lobby. I doubted that. I wondered why they didn't have Mr. E. go to the older guy's office so they could shout at each other. It was culture shock for me.
Mr. E. was a kindly sort, though, in other situations. There came a time when I was going to have to take a couple of days off work to take care of a personal situation in my family. I asked Mr. E. if we could speak privately, and he jumped up and nodded, started out of the room gesturing for me to follow him. The American guys were not there; I figured he must be thinking perhaps the Japanese boss might be hearing what we were saying, so he would take me to a better area to have a private conversation.
I followed him out of the office, across the lobby, across the courtyard toward the cafeteria (a separate building). He walked quickly, purposefully several steps in front of me. He did not look back, nor wait for me to catch up. When he reached the door of the (empty) cafeteria, he pushed it open with a straight arm and still did not look back to see there was quite a space between him and me. There was enough space between us, in fact, that the door closed quickly and sharply right in my face.
I really don't believe Mr. E. slammed that door in my face, but that's what it felt like to me at the moment. I definately did not feel "cherished." I just felt... "disrespected." I hesitated, not knowing whether to open the door and see if he was in there expecting me, or... what? Finally, I opened the door and walked in, only to find Mr. E. sitting at a table waiting for me. No one else was there. It was quiet. I sat down opposite of him, and explained the situation wherein I needed to take a day or two off.
He listened quietly. He asked questions in a quiet, serious manner. He seemed interested in helping me as much as he could in his capacity as my boss. He assured me there would be no problem in my taking the time I needed, and asked me to let him know if there was any way he could help. He seemed like a real person who wished me well. It was a complete turnaround from the Mr. E. who shouted and laughed roughly face to face with his Japanese boss, and meanwhile ignoring that I was even in the room. I was astonished. And I kind of liked him after that.
....
As years passed by and Honda, Datsun, Toyota, Subaru and others began taking a huge chunk of the American auto market, I heard a lot of complaints that people should buy American cars and other products instead of products manufactured in other countries. They called Datsuns "Jap-Scraps," but my Daddy found they worked well (and cheaply) for hauling mattresses. Some think Japanese autos are just plain better; they hold up well and don't use as much gas as American vehicles.
I've wondered, why is this so? Recently I was reading a book, "Why America Doesn't Work--How the Decline of the Work Ethic Is Hurting Your Family and Future--and What You Can Do." (By Chuck Colson and Jack Eckerd) These authors think "America has lost the work ethic that once made her great..." I highly recommend this book. Even though it was written twenty years ago (Copyright 1991), it is plain to me that the authors could see where we were headed back then, and now I can see where we have come in the working world. Pride, greed, selfishness, and all forms of evil have robbed the Western world of the productivity that made us great.
What do you think?
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