August 1, 2007

Welcome to America

One of the best features of the Bay Area is its diversity and the confluence of many rich cultures. Recently I had the opportunity to observe a cultural collision: a visiting Japanese scholar vs. the culture of mindless bureaucracy.

One of my new post-retirement gigs is giving private English lessons at a local language school. My first student, a 29-year-old ophthalmologist from Tokyo, was studying English for 7 hours each day-including 2 hours with me--in order to better communicate with his new colleagues at Stanford, where he will be doing research in vision science with the Department of Psychology.

Hiroshi is outgoing and witty, with a keen intelligence. During our first lesson I showed him my newly acquired iPhone and we became fast friends, bonding over our love of technology and our mutual tendency to laugh over every little thing.

For one of our afternoon lessons, we took a field trip to Redwood City so Hiroshi could visit both the Social Security Administration and the DMV to get a social security card and a drivers license so that he can work in this country for a year or two.

Our first stop was the SSA, where we were greeted by a "take a number" machine like they have at the deli, except with more instructions. Hiroshi was not thrown by this. He was, however, confused by his interaction with his assigned bureaucrat, who barked at him to "Sit down! Sit down, sir! I can't help you until you sit down!" The scathing tone of her voice told me that end of her sentence, mercifully left unsaid, was "you stupid idiot."

Things were slightly better at the DMV, where my student passed his written test-in Japanese--with only two errors.

We returned to the DMV a few days later for his appointment to take the behind-the-wheel driving test. We stopped at the information desk, under the sign that says "Start Here." I asked where we should report for the behind-the-wheel test.

The information lady tilted her head and mocked, "Well, now--where did they TELL you to go when you made the appointment [you stupid idiot]?

"They didn't," I replied. "We called the 1-800 number."

"Window 17. Next!" snarled the Face of the DMV.

At Window 17, Hiroshi produced the necessary documents and we drove the car around to the side of the building.

Although Hiroshi had driven for ten years in the maelstrom of Tokyo traffic, he was nervous about passing the test. He lowered his nose to his armpit, took a sniff and declared, "Hmmm, I'm getting spicy!"

We were laughing as the tester came out the door. "Get in the car!" he yelled, waving his clipboard." He issued commands in heavily accented English. I smelled trouble.

Ten minutes later, they returned, the DMV guy stomping back into the building without a word, Hiroshi waving me over with a hangdog expression. He was a self-described "Loser Boy," having done something to make another driver honk at him and thereby disqualifying himself of the privilege of driving on our streets.

We made another appointment with the nice lady at the 800 number, who was exceedingly pleasant and polite, as if she were trying to single-handedly make up for her nasty colleagues.

When we returned for a re-test, Hiroshi prayed to the vehicle gods that he would not get the same guy. The gods obligingly sent him a nice young woman. She greeted him politely and asked him to wait a moment. She went back into the building to get some paperwork.

Hiroshi stood by the car and I gave him a pep talk from the bench. Suddenly, the first tester (the man with the Spanish accent) appeared out of nowhere and started yelling, "Get in the car! How many times do I have to tell you to get in the car?" My student, a successful doctor and brilliant academician, climbed into the car like a scolded child.

The story has a happy ending. When the female tester returned, Hiroshi explained that his English was limited and respectfully asked her to give her instructions slowly. She politely agreed. He passed the test.

The next day at our lesson, the conversation centered around government workers, whom Hiroshi charmingly calls "bureaucraps." I struggled to make excuses for their behavior-a fight with a spouse that morning, an attitude honed by too many years in a mind-numbing job-anything but the impression they left with him that they are anti-Japanese. I sincerely hope he's wrong.