My first experience on a Japanese television show was a lot like my first night in a Tokyo hostess bar. The decorations were kitchy and the entire mood felt unreal. Still, I was getting paid a lot of money for a job that turned out to require little more that sitting still and nodding my head as I pretended to be impressed by what yet another middle-aged man had to say. The similarities to nightclub hostessing- which I have since quit for good after it nearly destroyed me- were uncanny. The producers tell you where to sit, they tell you how to sit, and they give explicit instructions on how to act.
This lead me to a predictably familiar impulse. “Okay, I did everything you told me to,” I wanted to say, “now WHERE THE HELL IS MY DRINK??” But alas, there will be no more drinks for me. And this was not one of those television shows where they make you take a shot when you get an answer wrong (I actually had to check with my Japanese agent to be sure this wouldn’t the case). So I got through it without the help of liquid confidence, as if it were another party where I had to drink coke.
The hosts of the show asked me only two questions in total, both of which were so stupid they do not bear repeating, and I managed conjure some responses, in Japanese of course. I should mention that when I was first learning this language I found it hard to speak at all without some sake in me to loosen my tongue. Yet there I was, not only speaking Japanese while sober, but also with dozens of bright lights shining in my face.
It makes me feel like I am progressing, and that I totally rock. This is all very novel to me.
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