Читать книгу Accidental Office Lady - Laura Kriska - Страница 11

3

Ms. Mori

It was a quiet afternoon and most of the directors were out of the office when Ms. Mori announced that it was time for my tea training. I had successfully avoided serving tea for months. But I knew that, as with the uniform, I had little choice. If I refused to serve tea, I wouldn’t be seen as a team player and would surely isolate myself from my colleagues.

The other women didn’t seem to have the same aversion to serving tea. Questioning why only women served tea would have been like asking them, “Why do only women have babies?” I had accepted the inevitability of this task coming my way, so when Ms. Mori made her announcement I didn’t resist. She recruited two junior-level secretaries to help. The four of us went into one of the guest rooms used for social visits. The room looked like a den in an elegant home; four handsome leather chairs were placed around a square marble coffee table. The two women sat down obediently.

“The first thing to learn is how to enter the room,” Ms. Mori instructed. She was holding a lacquer tray with two empty teacups on wooden saucers. “Before you enter the room, you must knock.” She walked out and closed the door. I heard her tap lightly before gently opening the door as if entering a sanctuary.

“Shitsurei shimasu. Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said and proceeded into the room.

“The next thing to consider is the order in which to serve the tea. It depends on who is visiting and if he is more important than Mr. Chino. You never serve Mr. Chino first if the guest is more important.”

“But how do you know?” I asked.

“If you don’t already know before you walk in, you can tell by where they are sitting. The most important place is the seat furthest away from the door. If Mr. Chino is sitting there, then you can serve him first, but if the guest is sitting there, serve him before you serve Mr. Chino.”

“What if there is more than one guest?” I asked.

“Then you serve them in descending order,” she barked as if it were common knowledge. Her reply only confused me more, but I could tell she was losing her patience. She moved to the far right of Mr. Chino’s chair. “Always approach the table at an angle so that you don’t disrupt the conversation.” In one fluid motion she placed the teacup and saucer on the table without making a sound. Then she backed away and moved around to the outside of the guest’s chair and placed the second cup. Each time she reached, she whispered, “Shitsurei shimasu,” as if to cushion the obtuse gesture.

She held the empty tray flat against her body as she surveyed the room before backing slowly into the door. She turned to open the door and then turned back to face the room, bowed and retreated backwards once more mouthing the refrain, “Shitsurei shimasu.”

“Now it’s your turn,” she said, walking back into the room and collecting the cups. I took the tray and balanced it with one hand.

“Use two hands,” she instructed. I proceeded to the table. “Be more discreet. Keep your head down,” she said.

When I got close to the table, I grabbed one of the saucers and placed it next to one of the women. “Don’t get so close,” Ms. Mori cried. “You don’t want to interrupt them.” I started to place the second cup between the two women, but Ms. Mori stopped me. “Never go in-between when you can go around.”

When I finished the task she told me to do it all again, this time starting from outside. I collected the props and left the room. Staring at the closed door, I felt my stomach tighten and had a powerful urge to turn and walk away.

What was I doing here? The months of training in America before coming to Japan seemed meaningless at that moment. I thought back to the month working on the assembly line in Ohio on the morning shift. Working on the line was tiring and repetitive, but at least I had felt useful.