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“How many languages do you speak?”
“Five, if you include English. But my Hebrew is a little rusty.”
“Then you’ve got six weeks to learn passable Japanese.”
“Who will decide if I pass?”
“The chairman of Sony International.”
“Ah, so no pressure then.”
“Jessica told me that when you were on holiday in the family villa in Tuscany, you picked up Italian in three weeks.”
“Picked up is not mastering,” said Sebastian. “In any case, my sister does have a tendency to exaggerate,” he added, looking at a drawing of Cedric in bed at the Princess Alexandra Hospital, entitled, Portrait of a Dying Man.
“I don’t have another candidate in mind,” said Cedric, handing him a prospectus. “London University is currently offering three courses in Japanese—beginners, intermediate and advanced. So you’ll be able to spend two weeks on each.” Cedric at least had the grace to laugh.
The phone on the chairman’s desk began to ring. He picked it up, listened for a few moments and said, “Jacob, it’s good of you to return my call. I needed to have a word with you about the Bolivian mine project, because I know you’re the lead financier…”
Sebastian left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
* * *
“Protocol is the key to understanding the Japanese psyche,” said Professor Marsh as he looked up at the tiered ranks of expectant faces. “It’s every bit as important as mastering the language.”
Sebastian had quickly discovered that the beginners, intermediate and advanced classes were held at different times of the day, which made it possible for him to attend fifteen classes each week. This, combined with the hours he had to devote to countless books, a tape recorder and a dozen tapes, meant he had hardly a moment left to eat or sleep.
Professor Marsh had become used to seeing the same young man sitting in the front row of his lectures, furiously scribbling notes.
“Let us begin with the bow,” said the professor. “It is important to understand that the bow in Japanese circles reveals far more than shaking hands does for the British. There are no different degrees of handshake, other than firm or weak, and as a result the handshake does not reveal either participant’s social standing. For the Japanese, however, there is an entire code when it comes to bowing. Starting at the top, only the emperor bows to no one. If you are meeting someone of your own rank, you both nod—” the professor gave a measured jerk of the head. “But if, for example, the chairman of a company had a meeting with his managing director, the chairman would merely nod while the managing director would bow thus, bending from the waist. Should a worker come across the chairman, he would bow very low, so their eyes did not meet, and the chairman might not even acknowledge him, just pass by.”
“So,” said Sebastian after he’d returned to the bank later that afternoon, “if I was Japanese and you were chairman, I would bow very low to show I knew my place.”
“Some hope,” said Cedric.
“And you,” said Sebastian ignoring the comment, “would either nod, or simply walk by. So when you see Mr. Morita for the first time, as the meeting is taking place in your country, you must allow him to nod first, return the compliment and then exchange business cards. If you really want to impress him, your business card will be in English on one side and Japanese on the reverse. When Mr. Morita presents his managing d
irector, he will bow low, but you will just nod again. And when he introduces the third person in his party, he will bow even lower, while once again you will just nod.”
“So I just go on nodding. Is there anyone I should bow to?”
“Only the emperor, and I don’t think he’s looking for a short-term loan at the present time. Mr. Morita will see that you are placing him above his colleagues, and equally important, his colleagues will appreciate the respect you have shown for their chairman.”
“I think this whole philosophy should be put into practice at Farthings immediately,” said Cedric.
“And then there is the tricky etiquette when you dine together,” continued Sebastian. “At a restaurant, Mr. Morita must order first and be served first, but he cannot begin his meal before you do. His colleagues cannot start before he does, but they must finish just before him.”
“Imagine if you were at a dinner party for sixteen, and you were the most junior person present…”
“You’d get indigestion,” said Sebastian. “However, at the end of the meal, Mr. Morita will not leave the table until you rise and ask him to join you.”
“What about women?”
“A minefield,” said Sebastian. “The Japanese cannot understand why an Englishman stands when a woman enters the room, allows them to be served first, and won’t lift their knife and fork until their wives do.”
“Are you suggesting it would be better to leave Beryl in Huddersfield?”
“That might be wise given the circumstances.”
