To the men in the train station who come to me and, even though I’m wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase (i.e., obviously not a clueless tourist), ask if I need help working the self-explanatory ticket machine … where the heck are you when I need help getting my ADSL switched from one address to the other? I sure don’t see you scrambling to help me when I’m sputtering horrendously incorrect Japanese grammar to you, over the phone – helpless, burning with a hard, gemlike shame – or about to write my birthday in the “today’s date” box on the form because I mixed up the kanji.
Get organized.
why you gotta hate?