Is it True What They Say About Japan's Service and Safety?

I get asked a lot about the level of service and safety in Japan. People think its mythical and with good reason. So I decided to share some thoughts on it, and on its little discussed downside, too

A little background:

The first time I flew cross-country on an airplane was from my home in NYC to California. I made this trip to hang out with some friends in the San Francisco area. I was twentysomething, fresh out of university, and had never done anything of the sort before.

While there, I also planned to visit my big sister in Redwood City. Then, I would rent a Mustang convertible and drive down to LA to visit with a friend I knew who’d moved there from NYC a few years earlier. These were big plans—the biggest of my life up until then. I felt like one of those white kids seeing Europe on their own for a summer. That’s how foreign the West Coast or anywhere south of Jersey or north of the Bronx seemed to me then. LA was this mythic place that existed only on TV, in movies, and in NWA records.

Hanging with my friends in Cali back in the early 90s

My friends met me at the airport in San Fran, and we drove over to Berkeley, where they lived. Our first stop was at an ice cream parlor near UC Berkeley.

We stood in line, and when it was my turn to order, I asked for a double scoop of chocolate. A cheery server said something to the effect of, “Coming right up!” But after she’d turned to get my order, I caught a glimpse of the cherry ice cream, and it looked deli-scrump-cious!! So, I called the server just as she was about to scoop up my order, dreading doing this so much that I almost just let her go ahead and give me chocolate and try the cherry next time. I mean, in NY, this was damn near heresy. Back in Brooklyn, Have your shit together is the order of the day!

“Excuse me, I’m sorry,” I cried, my tone almost pleading. “But, would it be possible to change that order to cherry? I’m really sorry, but I was just…”

“Oh, absolutely no problem!” she said, dismissing my apology and making it clear that it was beyond unnecessary, with a look that indicated it was borderline inappropriate. She didn’t have to add, ‘Oh, you must be from New York.’ Her smile said it all. It also declared that she had one job: to serve. And I had one job: to be served and hopefully be pleased by that service.

In NY, at a minimum, I would’ve gotten a look that would say a thousand words unsuitable for kids. Maybe even a scoop of ridicule. “Well, make up your mind already. Is it chocolate or cherry? People are waiting, sir!” with a whole heap of attitude sprinkled generously on top. Or something like that. And I would have felt this type of response warranted because I should have had my shit together. Making a server do even the slightest bit of extra work? I needed to be shot.

This Berkeley server’s behavior was the first jolt of culture shock in my life til that point.

Japan had more of where that came from in store for me. A LOT more.

Fast forward a decade or so.

When I first moved to Japan in 2004, I lived in Musashi Urawa out in Saitama prefecture. It’s about 20 minutes from Tokyo on the notorious Saikyo Line. 

The Ekimae (the area around the station) has a handful of shops and restaurants…and as is the norm at virtually every station I’ve been to in and around Tokyo, there’s either a McDonald’s or a Starbucks, or both. I can’t say I was the biggest fan of either back in NY, but I came to love them here. And the familiarity of either of these establishments was like finding water on Mars.

Until you go inside, that is.

One of the things I hated about fast food in NYC was that I could never trust it. I knew who was in that kitchen and what went on back there. The drama, the politics, the poor attitudes, the subpar cleanliness…I used to be that guy, and so were some of my friends, and believe me, you didn’t want any of these mofos anywhere near anything you were putting in your mouth…except maybe a blunt.

And you know how the burgers you get served never look like the ones in the adverts and marketing photos, the ones that made you throw caution and common sense to the wind and walk into a McDonald’s in the first place?

Not in Saitama. The damn things looked sculpted. It's like they were 3D printed copies of the photograph, intending to make the real better than the photograph.

Served up by a staff that takes some pride in the effort. You almost forget you’re shoveling harmful crap into your body. And I don’t know about y’all, but knowing that my junk food was prepared with such care just makes it taste better for me.

Everything in the restaurant gleams. The cleanliness is striking. I mean, I know roaches and rodents are everywhere, but in NY, I’ve actually SEEN roaches in restaurants. In Saitama, what is SEEN is at least one or two staff members cleaning at all times, tweaking the cleanliness like they used to do in McDonald’s commercials, but you rarely see in real life.

And at Starbucks? Forgettaboudit.

Let me tell you about Starbucks.