My previous post’s story about my friend’s customer service experience made me remember an interesting experience I had last year.
Due to a very severe thunderstorm, trains were stopped for a couple of hours. The inclemency of the weather was so wretched that lightning hit the very station where I was waiting out the storm. When at last there was an announcement through the loudspeaker about the resumption of service, some instructions were given to those passengers who were traveling the last stations along the line. I failed to understand them, partly because I was tired; partly on account of my language deficiencies, but also because either the announcer did not know how to use a microphone or the loudspeaker was nothing more than a broken buzzer.
I recall boarding the train and setting my phone’s alarm to vibrate ten minutes before the last stop on that train line since I had to catch another train from there. I fell happily asleep was woken up later by another passenger who told me we had arrived. Still somewhat dazed I managed to tell him that I was going to the last station, but he clarified for me that where we stopped would be the final stop of that train, which would not continue because of the possibility that felled trees could be on the tracks. My fellow passenger told me there had been an announcement indicating that outside the station there were buses awaiting to take us to the remaining stations of that particular rail line. On our way to the parking lot he asked what my destination was and, upon hearing my answer, indicated that we had get on bus No. 5, which was bound for the last three stations on that line.
The bus ride seemed to go on forever, finally arriving at my intended station right before midnight and hours after my other train left. The remaining three passengers got off and were greeted by two staff members of the railway company. I asked them what they suggested I do since there were no more trains to my final destination. They answered they knew where I was going and that they were going to call a taxicab for me. Despite my experience in Japan, as a Costa Rican I could not help but think that I would not pay the fortune the cab fare might cost; I played dumb and asked if there was an affordable hotel nearby. The station attendant told me not to worry, that my taxi ride should not be too long because it was so late in the night.
When the cab arrived three minutes later, the station master went to talk to the driver. While I was not close enough to listen, I could tell the driver was getting scolded for something or other. The taxi then turned around and left. The station master ran back to where I was standing to ask me to forgive the additional delay, informing me that it had been necessary for the taxicab to return to its base since there was a problem (it went unexplained).
Once taxi showed up again, the station master and attendant apologized profusely for making me wait and because the railway company had not managed well the contingencies of the day. I got in the taxi and was politely greeted by the driver, who made sure he got confirmation of my destination. Even I became a bit concerned when I saw him turn on the cab meter, I said nothing; I was too tired to have a discussion in Japanese.
The taxi driver was an older man that turned out to be very friendly and talkative. When he asked where I was from I replied that I came from a small Central American country called Costa Rica. He immediately picked up on it and said that he knew a few things about my country. He went over obvious stuff, that we have no army, that we are a neutral country with many national parks. Then he asked me if congress was still made up of 57 members and whether their election still carried out by closed party list. That level of detailed knowledge greatly surprised me, so I asked why he knew so much minutiae about such a small and far-away country. The driver answered that he had been a high school teacher and principal. I allowed myself to be ingenuous and commented that it must be tough to work the night shift as a taxi driver. He surprised once again. He said that he had retired early and that he was a cabby for fun!
As I listened on dumbstruck, the driver explained that as a child he always dreamed of being a cabby. But his parents, who had also been teachers, pushed him to study and to have an intellectual profession. Nevertheless, he never lost his true yearning and that is why he retired as soon as his youngest daughter graduated from college. According to his story, he told his wife that he was leaving Tokyo to go drive a taxi somewhere in the mountains, that he would be truly grateful if she supported and accompanied him, and that he would fulfill his dreams regardless of what she thought.
Among the many things he talked about, the cabby told me why he preferred to work at night. There is less traffic, it is not so hot and night customers tend to be better conversation partners. He said that even Japanese are very chatty customers when they travel at night accompanied by a taxi driver and the stars.
As we rode on, I could not stop myself from looking at the taxi meter and worrying that perhaps there had been something I misunderstood to the point that perhaps I might have unwittingly bought myself an expensive trip. To take my mind away from this, at some point I asked the cabby what the problem had been when he first arrived at the station. He answered that the station master chastised him for his poor presentation –he had forgotten his cap. I thought it was funny, but the driver said, with great seriousness, that the station master was right, a good presentation is a sacred thing at work.
When at long last we arrived home, the cabby pushed a button on the meter to print a receipt. He had to have seen the look of horror on my face because, as soon as he gave me the paper, with a joyful and contagious laughter he told me that I only had to sign as confirmation that I had been taken to my destination and the train company would pay his slightly over ¥30,000 fare.
I asked him if it would not have been cheaper for the train company to put me in a room in some hotel near the station from which I rode the taxi. He said that because it was low season (and a weekday) one could find rooms for ¥7,000, even in a Ryokan (a traditional Japanese hotel). According to him, however, the railway company would not suggest the hotel option because that would be tantamount to presuming it can trespass on a customer who is, in all likelihood, in a hurry to get to his destination since he was traveling with a preset schedule.
We bid farewell and the cabby left. I climbed the stairs toward my apartment, only to find out that I was not carrying my home keys.
Nippon Tico | 日本ティコ | Nipóntico 