How I Know I’m Going to Get Robbed When I Go Home…

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again.  Japan is a safe country.  I don’t have to worry about locking the house or car doors, live in constant paranoia about someone stealing my identity, or anything because the Japanese JUST.  DON’T.  STEAL.  THINGS.  As a collective and communal society, they put others’ needs before their own, so stealing someone’s stuff just wouldn’t even cross their minds. 

It’s a rare, RARE occasion that someone actually does steal something.  I think I told a story a few months ago about how a friend was telling us that someone in her town stole three rice balls (totaling maybe $3) from the local grocery, and it was a BIG DANG DEAL.  EVERYONE and their mother was talking about the rice ball theft.  They were completely shocked that THAT could happen. 

Since I live in the safety bubble of Japan, I often forget about common sense things that would come natural in the States.  For example, when I was home last summer, I’ve leave my purse hanging on the back of a chair at a restaurant and walk off.  Pushing the “lock” button on my car felt awkward, and I’d forget to do that, too.

Apparently a pretty big thing that I’ve forgotten in the past two years is over-sharing information with complete strangers.  Yesterday, I was cooking breakfast when I heard a knock at my door.  Hearing the familiar “konnichiwa!” after a knock at the door is always like opening a can of worms.  Unless you’re expecting a package, you never know what it’s going to be.  Yesterday it was the Mormons.  (Yes, we have those in Japan.)  When I opened the door, the guy looked genuinely surprised to see a foreigner.  However, that did not deter him from reaching out to me with The Word.  I didn’t understand half of what he was saying, so he tried to speak in broken English, and I tried broken Japanese.

I understood that he was from Miyazaki (the prefecture bordering Kumamoto) and that he wanted to talk about something religious.  I told him that I was Catholic, and when I said that, his face kind of fell.  Never fear, though!  He handed me and pamphlet and continued to talk.  Once I got the pamphlet I then realized what the deal was.  He was a Mormon on a mission.  Crap.  He talked for a few more minutes, gave me his business card, and moved on to the next house.  Chalking that up to another random and crazy Japanese experience, I moved onto my breakfast, which was burning.

Fast forward to this morning.  At around the same time, there was another knock on the door.  Ian and I were Skyping with friends at home and looked at each other.  The guy knocked again before peeking his head in the door and yelling “konnichiwa!” (This is an OK thing to do in Japan since the foyer of a house is considered to be public space.)  The same guy from the day before had returned…..only this time with an English speaker.  Double crap! 

While Ian continued to talk with our friends, I had to deal with the two.  The guy told me that he was an English teacher thirty years ago and asked me where I taught.  I pointed to my two schools across the rice paddies and told him the junior high and elementary school.  He small chatted, asking me my name.  When he couldn’t pronounce it, he asked me to write it down for him.  While I went to get a pen and paper from my desk drawer, he stepped into my house (in the foyer, the public space).  I was a bit uncomfortable with him being there but was unsure how to shoo him out.  I wrote my name down, and he practiced saying it.  He small chatted me some more, asking how long I’d lived in Japan and when I’d return to the States.  He asked me if I was married and had kids.  I told him that I was married, and my husband was currently talking to our friends at home.  The guy leaned around the corner and shouted to Ian, “HELLO!” while waving. 

“So your husband came to Japan so that you could teach?”  he asked me.

“Yes,” I said.  “I got the job, and he came with me.”

“Oh,” he said.  “You must be so grateful to him!  You must tell him thank you every day!” 

UGGGHHHHHH.  I knew where the conversation was going.  He was being a typical Japanese chauvinistic male and thinking that I should worship the ground that Ian walks on because Ian sacrificed to follow me to Japan.  (Which couldn’t be further from the truth!  We BOTH made the decision to come to Japan because it was something that we BOTH wanted to do!!)

He asked me if Ian worked.  I said yes, at Parakaro in Kumamoto City.  They asked me where that was in the city, but I wasn’t sure.  He wasn’t familiar with the company, so he asked me to write it down so that he could read it.  He asked me what the company did, and I said that it was a translating and English teaching company.  Then he asked me if Ian had to drive to the city every day. 

“Oh no,” I said.  “He goes a couple of times a month.  For example, this week he’ll be gone Tuesday through Friday.” 

I never know how to get out of those awkward conversations, so I looked back to Ian with the PLEASE SAVE ME eyes.  He said that our friends had to go and asked me to come say goodbye.

“Oh, I have to go.” I told the guys.  “It was very nice to meet you.”

They both peeked their heads around the corner and waved goodbye to Ian before handing me their business cards and leaving.  When I got back to Ian, I sighed and collapsed on the couch.  “I hate awkward conversations like that.”

“Exactly how much personal information were you going to give him?!?” Ian asked.

“Huh?  What do you mean?”

“Melissa, you gave him our full names, told him where we work, and said that we’d both be out of the house this week.  You might as well have given him a key and our bank account info, too.”

Up until that point it hadn’t even registered how much personal information I had indeed given him.  It was basically word vomit coming out of my mouth.  He asked me a question, and I answered.  I hadn’t given it a second thought.  Truth be told, the guys now know that neither one of us will be home during the day this week.  Technically, they could break in and steal our stuff.  Am I worried that they will?  Not….really.  But it definitely opened my eyes to a bigger situation.  I hadn’t even HESITATED when he was asking personal questions about us.  I’m so used to random strangers asking personal info, (mostly because our area doesn’t get a lot of foreigners, so they’re genuinely just curious about us) and IT DID NOT EVEN CROSS MY MIND TO SHUT UP. 

This is how I know I’m going to get robbed when I go home.  I opened the door to two strange men and gave them personal info without even hesitating.  Call me naive, but I’ve always wanted to trust people and give them the benefit of the doubt.  However, I feel like I might as well go ahead and post my social security number to Facebook or write my credit card number on my forehead because I’m an idiot.  Here’s to two more months of preparing myself to not trust random strangers again!