Unemployed Bum, I Am
Usually, when JET ends, the war-weary soldier goes back to their home country with a nice ticket paid for by the Japanese government. I figure this is either a “thanks for your efforts” gesture, or a “hurry up and get the hell out of our country before you do any more damage” kind of thing. For some JETs, I lean towards the latter. At any rate, just the fact that JET pays for the return ticket home, kind of assumes that the retired school teacher actually does go home. While this is generally the case, there are a select few, thoroughly crazed and mentally unstable folks who decide that three years of Japanese torture *just* wasn’t quite enough.
Guess which camp I belong to, eh?
I won’t try to excuse my insanity, I’m fully aware of it. I will say though that there wasn’t anything in particular pulling me back to America, and I seemed to have a few good reasons to stay in Japan. So I did. A simple decision based on pros and cons. But, me staying in Japan would mean that I would have to find a job in Japan, for as you can imagine commuting to and from America everyday would not only be a bitch, but would be The Biggest Bitch in Human History. Even greater a bitch than Kyle’s mom. As Japan is the most expensive country in the known universe (I think even God gets taxed here – which is probably why the majority of Japanese people are Buddhist), of course I had to work. The Japanese government wasn’t just going to give me money for being in Japan. …Actually, wait, no, they did. It’s just that my time at JET ended, so now I was going to have to do actual work for less money. Bummer.
So, I had to go on the job hunt. More specifically, I had to go on the Japanese job hunt. Not like your ordinary job hunt, no no. As a Gaijin, you have to find a job that’s either specifically directed towards Gaijin, or find a way to convince a Japanese person that you are just as capable as – if not more than – all the other Japanese people who are applying for the job. …I imagine this is a lot like trying to convince a seven-year-old that the carrot you’re waving in front of him is much more delicious and mouth-watering than the Oreo cookie he’s holding. If I were female, blond, and had a nice set of D-rack tits, I could probably get a job as a Japanese rocket scientist. Not that I could do rocket science, much less rocket science in Japanese, but at least the guys could enjoy putting me in a skirt, having me make coffee for them everyday, and fantasizing about having brief, emotionless sex with me without ever doing anything to achieve that goal. But no, as a black male, I didn’t really have much to offer except a fresh dark-meat cock-slap to the face. And while I’m sure they would have loved the opportunity to measure the imprint left behind, it’s not quite enough to land me any decent jobs.
So, as with any good job hunt, first I had to find out exactly what it was I could do in Japan…
— More English Teaching – What does a person do if they can’t speak the native language and have no real marketable skills? Why, teach of course! Especially English teaching in Japan – it’s a profession that really only asks you to be a native speaker, have a pulse, and not be a total fucktard. Even then, many English teachers here only manage to meet two of these three requirements (you get to have the fun of guessing which two).
Of course, seeing as how I’d been an English teacher for three whole years, I wasn’t quite jumping at the bit for this one.
Not that I have anything against English teaching, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that, given the opportunity, there were other career paths I might like to explore before taking another English teaching job. Like, for example, putting on a sexy female elephant suit and entering the elephant cages to clean up Gary Coleman-sized piles of steaming elephant shit during peak mating season. Or, you know, becoming a tester of the new A1 Steak Sauce-scented cologne, exclusively for rodeo clowns.
If you should know of any openings in these lucrative and groundbreaking fields, please shoot me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org. I suppose, if I am unable to make any good progress in this career path, then perhaps I shall consider English teaching again.
–Gaijin Actor – I believe my hatred for Bobby, as well as any other Gaijin who makes a fool of themselves on Japanese TV, is well known. But you know, it isn’t all bleak. There are plenty of other roles on TV for us Gaijin. Beat Takeshi has a show on Thursdays that regularly features Gaijin actors. The best part – no actual acting ability is even required! These “actors” have all the acting ability of a turnip. And not even a fresh one.
I have occasionally seen a Gaijin pop up on the evening dramas. Again, check any potential acting ability at the door. There was this one where a white dude went to this woman’s remote little mountain home, and proudly exclaimed to her traditional and overbearing Japanese father – “Boku wa Hana-san no akachan no papa desu.” Trans: “I am the father of Hana-san’s baby.” …He wasn’t really the father. It was just a heroic gesture to show how much he cared for Hana and was willing to take care of her and the baby. However, the actor delivered these lines with so much emotion and excitement, that coma patients all over Japan actually bored AWAKE. The Razzies should never come to Japan. They’d run out of awards.
If TV isn’t quite your thing, I suppose there’s always karaoke videos. I’m sure I’ve ranted on this before, but instead of *just* getting the lyrics across the screen, there has to be some video as well. Quite a few involve Gaijin. I’m not quite sure how to break into the Gaijin Karaoke Video business, but if I could, I’d be able to have 4 1/2 minutes of flat and emotionless relationships with only moderately attractive girls, as they play on the beach in their bikinis, and I toss my locks around and try to look tormented as I wail on my air-guitar. …With the horrible videos and off-key singing, I’m somewhat amazed karaoke is actually popular. I’ve never seen an activity where humans actually pay to torture themselves. Unless you count all the people who paid to see Dana Carvey’s The Master of Disguise in theaters, because that certainly does count.
— Gaijin Male Day Whore –Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking. Hear me out first.
As I mentioned in this editorial, I was shocked to read in a Lonely Planet book that there were groups of female Japanese tourists seeking out African male prostitutes in Thailand. Additionally, a survey of sexual satisfaction by country ranked Japan dead last. So obviously, there’s a market for a little Sexual Healing, and definitely some curiosity for that Gaijin Chocolate.
This would be the best deal. Go break off some Japanese housewife in the afternoon (and a lot of Japanese housewives are still pretty decent, well into their 40s/50s), be home in time for dinner. I mean, honestly, I get paid, maybe possibly we help Japan with its sexual satisfaction problems…fuckin’a, everyone’s a winner. I wouldn’t hate, I’d service my foreign sisters as well. It has been far too long since I’ve had any domestic ass.
My master plan had two flaws though. One was that, I don’t think my girlfriend would have been too supportive of this career choice. Granted, I never talked to her about it…but it just seemed like one of those things that would have been a bad idea. The second snag was that I had no idea how to go about doing this. If there’s a Japanese version of Craigslist, I just don’t know it. It’s not something I really wanted to ask about either. Nor did it seem like something I could advertise with a few fliers at the train station. “Want to get the sexual impaling of a lifetime? Just call 090… ….Ask about our special Christmas discount rates!”
I still maintain that this would have been genius. Obviously, Japanese women aren’t getting it. And I knew quite a few foreign women here who hit a serious dry spell. Mostly because they expected to just sit around and wait for some guy to hit on them, and that’s just not how things work in Japan for women, no no no. Gaijin girls have to go out and get their meat. There’s no sushi boat that’ll just float by with your choice of prime penis just lined up. No, you gotta go out and get it girl. The girls who couldn’t wrap their heads around that had a, uh, frustrating time in Japan. And for whatever reason, they were usually always American. Coincidence? You make the call.
So yeah, entrepreneurial gold mine, but I really don’t know how to go about setting that one up. If you guys have any ideas, please email me at email@example.com.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to sit down and map out my next move. My work visa was running out – I had to find *something,* anything where someone would sponsor me. I kept a sharp eye out for that steak sauce rodeo clown cologne tester job, but incredibly enough, no offers came my way. In order to have a job by the time my visa ran out so I could continue living (legally) in Japan, I did the one thing I never hoped I’d had to do again.
…So, yeah…remember that editorial where I said, “I am no longer a Japanese school teacher?” …Well, I lied. Looks like I’m in for another tour of duty. This time, two junior high schools in Osaka Prefecture. I have to take the job to extend my visa – and I guess I’ll work it until I find something better, or I hit the breaking point and decide that – hey – who needs an apartment and food? I’ll sleep on the streets and eat the vermin that crawl by!
And NOW do you blame me for wanting to become a male day whore? Hey, at least with the Japanese housewives I won’t have to worry about any fingers or other foreign objects trying to head up my ass. …Not unless I want to. And I can almost promise you, I don’t.
Two new junior high schools, here I come. …God help me.