The Story of the Evil Shopkeep and his Assistant
Once upon a time (today) in a Vodafone shop not so far away (Jonobashi-Dori Street) there worked an Evil Shopkeep. This man had too much time on his hands and too few customers to torture. Those that eventually found their way into the store were at the mercy of his long-contemplated nefarious plans. One important thing to note about this man is that he spoke no English, and had no desire to do so. A little strange in a country obsessed with that particular foreign tongue. He even went so far as to spurn English and its speakers. He was quite the opposite of his courteous and helpful countrymen who often give assistance to foreigners despite the language barriers. The Evil Shopkeep had a female assistant who loved to giggle, in fact that seemed to be all she was capable of doing, so I shall call her the Giggler. Actually though, the sound that came out of her mouth resembled a giggle about as much as a donut resembles a pickle. Despite being a very attractive woman, perhaps it would be better to call her the Cackler. The Cackler seemed perpetually amused by everything the Evil Shopkeep did. I shall not contemplate their relationship outside of the Vodafone shop, but shall only say that they were perfectly suited to work together. They would also be perfectly suited as the evil villains in an Austin Powers movie, but another time perhaps.
One day a Foreigner walked into their bastion of lifeless technology with a problem. Her new cell phone had a defect and she wanted them to fix it. After only a month all of the numbers had scraped off making it difficult to dial and send text-messages. The Foreigner struggled in Japanese to explain the problem, and also explain why she shouldn’t have to pay to fix a faulty phone. The Evil Shopkeep was amused at her attempts to speak Japanese. To assist her he spoke as fast as possible, used big words and gave her blank stares every time she spoke. The Cackler thought this was all quite amusing, it had been a rather dull day up until then, and cackled constantly in the background. A new mouse for the cat to play with. The Evil Shopkeep maintained that the damage was the Foreigners fault. After all, if she had not used the phone for calling and sending text messages then the numbers would not have worn off. She should have known better than to actually use the phone she bought. The Foreigner was justifiably incensed at that comment. After 20 minutes the Foreigner asked for the Evil Shopkeep to call someone in the main Vodafone shop who might speak English, hoping to rectify the quagmire they seemed to have been dragged into. When the Evil Shopkeep got on the phone he suddenly spoke slow, easy to understand Japanese. The Foreigner didn’t understand why he couldn’t speak to her like that. The Evil Shopkeep explained in Japanese that there was a “FORIGNER” in his shop who couldn’t speak any Japanese at all and was creating a scene. The Foreigner understood what he was saying and felt fully ready to create the scene he wanted. The Cackler walked by cackling again and the Foreigner contemplated throwing a nearby model cell-phone at her head to stop the irritating sound. Finally the Foreigner was able to talk to someone in English and mostly rectify the situation; she would turn her phone over to the Evil Shopkeep for a week and take home a loaner phone. She had one more problem she needed to address though. She had a feeling of foreboding and should have run out of the shop right then. Feelings of foreboding in horror movies are a sure sign to run screaming from the scene, being careful not to look back at the monsters giving chase. This particular Foreigner doesn’t watch horror movies though and missed her cue to escape further torture. She needed to change the address Vodafone had listed for her. It sounds so simple, so easy, like a walk through a field on a warm summer day. Only this field has frozen solid and is home to a Yeti. She filled out the form (in Japanese I might add, in defense of her language skills). Then she came to the, dum-dum-dum, space to write the number for a land-line. She politely explained that she doesn’t have a land-line (aka the reason she got the cell phone). The Evil Shopkeep refused to process the form until a land-line was written in. The Foreigner pointed out that they had sold her the phone without needing a land-line number, but the Evil Shopkeep refused to budge. A Showdown. Silence followed as the Foreigner and the Evil Shopkeep stared coldly into each others eyes waiting for one of them to cave. The Foreigner didn’t have the training in cruelty the Evil Shopkeep did and so finally after 5 minutes she asked for a phone-book to look up her employer’s phone number. The Foreigner slinked out of the shop, beaten and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The sound of cackling drifted after her in the wind.
Two weeks later the Foreigner was forced to return to the shop again, against her better judgment. The Cackler started up the moment the doors slid open. More amusement on a rainy day. The fixed phone was handed over, the mediocre loaner phone snatched away and then a bill was placed on the desk. The Foreigner thought they had worked out the issue of payment during the previous interrogation session and was perturbed at the thought of going through it all again. The Foreigner, having learned her lesson like one of Pavlov’s dogs, immediately asked to speak to someone in English. The man she spoke to was a crony of the Evil Shopkeep though. In addition, the language school he studied at must have been very limited. The only phrase he seemed comfortable using was “I understand what you are saying, but…” followed by various ways of telling her she was wrong. He had not obtained the upper-levels of evilness though and eventually the Foreigner was able to wear him down until she got her way. She felt exuberant at her small victory. The Evil Shopkeep got on the phone to speak with his crony. Whatever the crony said must have been hilarious because they laughed together for 5 minutes. They may not have been laughing at the Foreigner, they could have been laughing at the weather (because that really is funny). It didn’t matter though; the Foreigner had to endure the painful melody of his laughter over the inharmonious chords of cackling. Finally, finally, it ended and the Foreigner escaped. Despite disliking the rain, she dove into the streets ready to face anything nature was ready to throw at her. Typhoons would be pleasant after the storm in the Vodafone shop. The Evil Shopkeep and his cackling assistant went back to work, plotting the take-over of the world and the continued torture of innocent cell-phone users everywhere.
Once upon a time (today) in a Vodafone shop not so far away (Jonobashi-Dori Street) there worked an Evil Shopkeep. This man had too much time on his hands and too few customers to torture. Those that eventually found their way into the store were at the mercy of his long-contemplated nefarious plans. One important thing to note about this man is that he spoke no English, and had no desire to do so. A little strange in a country obsessed with that particular foreign tongue. He even went so far as to spurn English and its speakers. He was quite the opposite of his courteous and helpful countrymen who often give assistance to foreigners despite the language barriers. The Evil Shopkeep had a female assistant who loved to giggle, in fact that seemed to be all she was capable of doing, so I shall call her the Giggler. Actually though, the sound that came out of her mouth resembled a giggle about as much as a donut resembles a pickle. Despite being a very attractive woman, perhaps it would be better to call her the Cackler. The Cackler seemed perpetually amused by everything the Evil Shopkeep did. I shall not contemplate their relationship outside of the Vodafone shop, but shall only say that they were perfectly suited to work together. They would also be perfectly suited as the evil villains in an Austin Powers movie, but another time perhaps.
One day a Foreigner walked into their bastion of lifeless technology with a problem. Her new cell phone had a defect and she wanted them to fix it. After only a month all of the numbers had scraped off making it difficult to dial and send text-messages. The Foreigner struggled in Japanese to explain the problem, and also explain why she shouldn’t have to pay to fix a faulty phone. The Evil Shopkeep was amused at her attempts to speak Japanese. To assist her he spoke as fast as possible, used big words and gave her blank stares every time she spoke. The Cackler thought this was all quite amusing, it had been a rather dull day up until then, and cackled constantly in the background. A new mouse for the cat to play with. The Evil Shopkeep maintained that the damage was the Foreigners fault. After all, if she had not used the phone for calling and sending text messages then the numbers would not have worn off. She should have known better than to actually use the phone she bought. The Foreigner was justifiably incensed at that comment. After 20 minutes the Foreigner asked for the Evil Shopkeep to call someone in the main Vodafone shop who might speak English, hoping to rectify the quagmire they seemed to have been dragged into. When the Evil Shopkeep got on the phone he suddenly spoke slow, easy to understand Japanese. The Foreigner didn’t understand why he couldn’t speak to her like that. The Evil Shopkeep explained in Japanese that there was a “FORIGNER” in his shop who couldn’t speak any Japanese at all and was creating a scene. The Foreigner understood what he was saying and felt fully ready to create the scene he wanted. The Cackler walked by cackling again and the Foreigner contemplated throwing a nearby model cell-phone at her head to stop the irritating sound. Finally the Foreigner was able to talk to someone in English and mostly rectify the situation; she would turn her phone over to the Evil Shopkeep for a week and take home a loaner phone. She had one more problem she needed to address though. She had a feeling of foreboding and should have run out of the shop right then. Feelings of foreboding in horror movies are a sure sign to run screaming from the scene, being careful not to look back at the monsters giving chase. This particular Foreigner doesn’t watch horror movies though and missed her cue to escape further torture. She needed to change the address Vodafone had listed for her. It sounds so simple, so easy, like a walk through a field on a warm summer day. Only this field has frozen solid and is home to a Yeti. She filled out the form (in Japanese I might add, in defense of her language skills). Then she came to the, dum-dum-dum, space to write the number for a land-line. She politely explained that she doesn’t have a land-line (aka the reason she got the cell phone). The Evil Shopkeep refused to process the form until a land-line was written in. The Foreigner pointed out that they had sold her the phone without needing a land-line number, but the Evil Shopkeep refused to budge. A Showdown. Silence followed as the Foreigner and the Evil Shopkeep stared coldly into each others eyes waiting for one of them to cave. The Foreigner didn’t have the training in cruelty the Evil Shopkeep did and so finally after 5 minutes she asked for a phone-book to look up her employer’s phone number. The Foreigner slinked out of the shop, beaten and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The sound of cackling drifted after her in the wind.
Two weeks later the Foreigner was forced to return to the shop again, against her better judgment. The Cackler started up the moment the doors slid open. More amusement on a rainy day. The fixed phone was handed over, the mediocre loaner phone snatched away and then a bill was placed on the desk. The Foreigner thought they had worked out the issue of payment during the previous interrogation session and was perturbed at the thought of going through it all again. The Foreigner, having learned her lesson like one of Pavlov’s dogs, immediately asked to speak to someone in English. The man she spoke to was a crony of the Evil Shopkeep though. In addition, the language school he studied at must have been very limited. The only phrase he seemed comfortable using was “I understand what you are saying, but…” followed by various ways of telling her she was wrong. He had not obtained the upper-levels of evilness though and eventually the Foreigner was able to wear him down until she got her way. She felt exuberant at her small victory. The Evil Shopkeep got on the phone to speak with his crony. Whatever the crony said must have been hilarious because they laughed together for 5 minutes. They may not have been laughing at the Foreigner, they could have been laughing at the weather (because that really is funny). It didn’t matter though; the Foreigner had to endure the painful melody of his laughter over the inharmonious chords of cackling. Finally, finally, it ended and the Foreigner escaped. Despite disliking the rain, she dove into the streets ready to face anything nature was ready to throw at her. Typhoons would be pleasant after the storm in the Vodafone shop. The Evil Shopkeep and his cackling assistant went back to work, plotting the take-over of the world and the continued torture of innocent cell-phone users everywhere.
