Columbia Music Entertainment

*One more story before I leave...*

Two weeks ago I put on my snazzy suit and went to Tokyo to the headquarters of Columbia Music Entertainment in Roppongi for a meeting about my summer internship.

I took the bullet train from Kyoto which takes about 2.5 hours. The ride was pleasant enough, though I was pretty nervous and my feet were crammed in thanks to the sprawled out Japanese man sitting in the seat next to me. I was in my suit which was just about unbearable in the train car (I don’t know how Japanese businessmen do this everyday).

Japanese people always love to crank up the heat in places and the train car was no exception. I was sweating profusely in my suit and since I had gained a few pounds, the dress shirt and tie choked my neck and I felt like a walrus stuffed into a human's clothing. I also didn’t realize that there was a nifty pull-out hanger built-in to the side of each seat row for you to hang your suit coat on. I suffered in the sweltering heat due to my own ignorance.

When I arrived in Tokyo it was time for me to make my four fast-paced successive transfers from one mode of transportation to another in order to end up in Roppongi. Needless to say, I won’t be auditioning for a spot on The Amazing Race anytime soon with my navigational skills. I made several failures, from buying a train ticket when I was supposed to buy a subway one, to overpaying for a route that I didn’t need to take. I clutched my printed directions in one hand as I battled my way upstream through the sea of black suit coats to get to my next departure gate.

I would always take my failed ticket to the train station attendant and tell them in Japanese that I had made a mistake, while displaying my best puppy dog gaijin eyes. Each attendant would say, “Yes, you did make a mistake didn’t you,” laugh, and then refuse to refund my lost money. All in all I suspect that I lost close to ten dollars in traveling blunders (and I can speak and read Japanese).

Somehow or another I eventually arrived in Roppongi, just in time for it to start raining. People say that Roppongi is one of the lewdest and grimiest places in Tokyo, filled with sex districts and drugs, but you’ll have to wait till the summer for my full report. My time in Roppongi was limited to the Columbia Music building and a Subway.

I ran to Subway and got a cream cheese and chicken sub and inhaled it as though I were Takeru Kobayashi, the Japanese hotdog eating whiz. I wiped my mouth and headed to Columbia Music (An unspoken rule is that you are NEVER late in Japan...especially in business!).

From the outside, Columbia Music looks like any other high rise office building. I went inside and told the receptionist that I had a meeting with Mr. Okuno from personnel and she instructed me to wait in the lobby. The lobby was a series of red and black stylish cube-form chairs with posters and displays all around of the various recording artists on the different Columbia labels. I didn't know any of them.

After being given enough time to thoroughly drench my suit in sweat, Okuno-san came out to meet me. In his mid 30s and dressed in a grey polo shirt and jeans, I was immediately surprised by how un-Japanese businessman he seemed (it must be the music industry thing).

We sat and chatted downstairs for a few minutes – he gave me his business card and I slowly but surely got into the rhythm of speaking polite Japanese. As we were waiting for the elevator, Okuno-san asked me if I could read this sign in kanji. I didn’t know what sign he was pointing out so I guess I failed the first test.

Once on the fifth floor, we walked to and sat down in a giant conference room with me on one side of the massive table and Okuno-san on the other next to the white board (we would soon be joined by five more Columbia section chiefs). Okuno-san brought me some iced green tea which was much needed to replenish the electrolytes I lost during my sweating tsunami.

Okuno-san wrote up my itinerary for the day on the board. 1) Complex verbal and visual introduction to the company to indirectly test Ben's Japanese ability, 2) Grill Ben in Japanese about his life, his ambitions, and the state of young people in America, 3) A company tour with at least three required uncomfortable situations for Ben. From the minute I arrived at Columbia, everything was conducted in Japanese – there was not one moment where anyone assumed that I would not be able to function in an entirely Japanese environment, and honestly I do not know what would have happened if I could not perform under this type of pressure. I kept telling myself, thank god I can speak Japanese! I know they were thinking the same thing, because there is nothing a Japanese person fears more than having to speak the English they learned in school for six years.

Okuno-san wrote my day's itinerary on the board in Japanese and for some reason the stars aligned and I could read all the kanji characters. This really impressed him and he would later boast to any japanese person in near proximity about my kanji reading and Nihongo speaking skills (though the test wasn’t an accurate representation).

To my surprise, Columbia is actually NOT affiliated with Columbia Records U.S.A. (a Sony subsidiary). There was a time when they were, but they separated at least 15 years ago. Columbia began as Japan’s first recording company in 1910 and originally produced televisions, audio recording equipment, phonographs, and other audio hardware. Nowadays they deal primarily with recording music of all types (they have anime, kids, pop music, jazz, classical, and country labels just to name a few). They also do some video editing for TV shows and commercials. I got a nifty comic book version of the history of the company as a souvenir and read it on the train ride coming home. Columbia also has an American headquarters in Georgia of all places.

Next it was time for the improvisational segment of the day’s events. Five section heads or chiefs came in and sat opposite me with Okuno-san. It felt like being in front of a firing squad. It was surreal, when was Donald Trump going to walk in and the cameras start rolling? These chiefs were from the marketing division, anime division, Enka or Japanese country music, etc. First, they commented that I was over dressed and asked me if I bought my suit just for the internship. When I said no they all breathed a sigh of relief. I introduced myself in Japanese and then had to give a 10-15 minute life history (only the good stuff), followed up by my career ambitions, and finally my wildest dream segments.

The interesting thing when in situations like this is that you cannot use a dictionary or pause to help yourself out. You simply have to keep going and force yourself to make sense in a foreign language. You find in general that when the pressure is on, you know a lot more than you actually think you do.

At one point Okuno plunked down the company profile and division breakdown in front of me in Japanese and wanted me to read it and select the divisions that interested me for work. Looking at the jumble of characters, I didn't know whether I should choose "squiggly box rice patty" or possibly "bamboo forrest duck house" - the possibilities were endless. This portion of the meeting was difficult to say the least, but luckily I got the gist of what was going on. Truly speaking, if you don’t know what’s going on, you have to ask questions and improvise – no one is going to wait for you to figure it out.

I successfully articulated my ideas and goals to the group of Japanese businessmen who were all smiling by the end. Next, I went on a company tour with Okuno san.

As expected, most floors were either recording studios or regular offices with computers and people working on stuff. It seemed to me that all these people were working pretty hard, but Okuno-san found it necessary to march me into the room FILLED with people and stop them from what they were doing.

“Excuse me,” he’d say. “I’d like to introduce to you Mr. Ben Whale—Whare—Ware…uh…Ben-san.” He would then ask me to do a jiko-shokai or self introduction and I would stare at the thirty-some office workers (now standing perfectly upright with eyes fixed on me) and give the four sentence version of my life and times. After my awkward speech, some workers would nod and smile while others would look me over with a gaze that said, “Quick, send an email to the imperial family that the Americans have invaded!”

We worked our way up the floors, climbing higher and higher within the company until we reached the top floor with the kaicho or company president. Okuno-san knocked on his door and I swallowed my tongue. After a moment a man came and opened the door and looked at us both. I had a look in my eyes that said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be on your top floor, I was just looking for the bathroom.” Okuno-san however wasted no time in explaining my presence on the top floor and boasting about my ability to read kanji and speak Japanese. I felt like a set of deluxe SEARS kitchen knives, with Okuno-san as the salesman.

The company president looked at me and looked at Okuno-san and said bluntly to him, “Can the kid speak Japanese?” Okuno-san answered yes and I followed up with “Yes, please speak to me in Japanese.” The company president said, “Okay, he can come in,” and walked back towards his desk without looking at me. I stepped in the room and bowed deeply. I told him in my best honorific Japanese that I wanted to thank him for the wonderful experience and I hope to work hard and get a lot out of this experience. He seemed to shrug off my politeness and said that I should teach him English, because most of the Japanese people at the company cannot speak English. I paid lip-service to his request and then did an about-face, taking a moment to bow deeply before leaving.

I had begun sweating again - I needed more iced green tea. Luckily, Okuno-san and I went down to a lounge and drank iced coffee. I had never heard of “Enka” or traditional Japanese folk / country music, so he gave me about ten sample CDs and pads of paper featuring different Enka artists. My meeting was scheduled for two hours and as the minute hand struck 12, Okuno-san said, "well its time for you to be going." Wow…scheduling down to the minute! I said goodbye to Okuno-san and that I would see him later in the summer. He said that he would send me materials in Japanese about my internship but I have not yet received anything.

It was pouring buckets of rain so I took the same four transfers in reverse and then ate sushi in the Tokyo train station. I rode the 2.5 hour bullet train ride back to Kyoto – it was still boiling hot in the train car, but at least this time I placed my suit coat on the built-in hanger, just like a Japanese businessman.

B.E.W.