Japanory

Ups and Downs of the School Run

On the way to school I noticed one of the large film screens around Shibuya station showing videos of one of my favourite bands – the Red Hot Chili Peppers. As I gazed at the screen a date flashed up and I realised with elation that they were coming to perform in Tokyo! I've been trying to see this band for nigh on 20 years but have always been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could it be possible that I finally get to see them? Oh, I LOVE my new home!

Now all I needed to do was find out how to speak Japanese and get some tickets. I decided to pass the task onto Tim who could ask his colleagues for help. I care not that he isn't a massive fan like me; we will go and see them if at all possible, and that is that.

I collect Rhiannon and we head home.

The school run is already dragging us down and Rhiannon is so tired at the end of the day that the walk to the station in Shibuya is a real chore. She insists on walking on all the building edges, up steps, down steps, around bollards and generally being a pain as all the time she insists on holding my hand which drags me around too. Then she complains about being tired and having achey legs. I'm not surprised; with all the to-ing and fro-ing she is walking ten times as far as she needs to.

She is also obsessed with all the vending machines and we have to stop at each one, of which there are many, to inspect the contents and hassle me for a drink. I counter this with a promise of something from the one nearest home as it is considered rude to drink and eat on the Metro. And so it continues as a whinging child and I enter the overcrowded Metro.

We are both completely frazzled by the time we get home, two hours after I left. There must be an easier way of doing the school run, but sadly I don't know what. Some people catch cabs, but this is an expensive option and besides, I tried this once and couldn't convey to the taxi driver where I wanted to go. But it is very tempting. Perhaps I should try and find a map.

Being Grumpy

It's amazing how cross and disgruntled this little job is making me! I haven't even got into the training room yet and I am already very grumpy about the work next week. It's only a few days over the next month so why am I getting so worked up about it?

Mainly I think it's because I spent an extremely intensive period doing the same line of work, for similar people, so I know what to expect. And also because I know that this will be very different as in my previous incarnation of 'IT Trainer', I never had to see the trainees again: this time Tim will be working with the people and we will both see them over the next four years. So I have to be nice to them...

One ray of light is, by some miracle, I found all my old training materials on an old portion of my hard drive so all I have to do is adapt them for these special courses. I am overjoyed as I thought all this work was on my old laptop which no longer functions as anything other than a large doorstop.

This took a weight off my mind so I started writing my first Tokyo Tales article instead.

I'd just got my creative flow going when an American woman who befriended me at the school door phoned for a chat. She's rather pushy but I'll give anyone a chance (and she is the only one who's spoken to me at school so far) so I arrange a playdate for our kids at the weekend. Somehow she stayed on the phone for over an hour even though I tried to get away.

My creative flow was completely washed away now, so I turned to another project.

Tim had mentioned someone at work who knew the owner of one of the English language papers and I should send in my CV. As my CV is so far out of date it's almost in a different century, this required some careful contemplation.

I got as far as changing my name and address when the computer crashed and wouldn't restart. Great. Just great.

OK. Now what?

Oh, time for the school run! It takes around two hours each way so this doesn't leave me much time during the day. Especially when an hour is wasted on the telephone.

“I’ve Got You a Job!”

10^th January 2007

These were Tim's opening words to me when he arrived home from work last night.

Yikes! I don't want a job. I already have a job and I certainly don't want to work in the same place as Tim. Not because I don't want to work with him as I've already done that in the past. What fills me with horror though is the idea of working for other people having been self-employed for more years than I was employed.

I'm speechless. But not for long as Tim explains the details further. It turns out that the office were about to contact London to send someone out to provide IT training to a few members of staff when Tim leapt in with "Oh, no need to call them, that's what Carole does!"

DID, not DOES!!

I gave up this work in 2001 when I was pregnant with Rhiannon and I had absolutely no intention of ever getting into it again. Admittedly it was extremely profitable and was a job I once loved, but towards the end of what had been many years running the same courses again and again, I was burnt out and unable to continue. I swore to myself I would never, ever do that work again.

Never say never.

My blood ran cold and I started to protest. But Tim was so excited I had to hear him out. From the information he gave me, there was almost no way I could get out of this and agreed to see the people involved.

So into the office I went, with a heavy heart and tried to pretend I was all efficient and organised.

They were ecstatic at finding someone over here that was qualified to do this work. Everything was in place already, including the special systems knowledge I already had from my previous contract with them all those years ago.

In an effort to finally wriggle out of the work I quoted a very high price for my time.

They accepted and I was obligated.

Panic!

Because I had declared my intention never to do this job again, I had thrown out all my text books, notes and exercises in the UK just before moving here. I will have to rewrite everything in less than a week.

DOUBLE PANIC!! And a lot of swearing...