The service industry.

Having lived in Japan for awhile, I was always super shocked by the level of service in our restaurant and hospitality industries here in the U.S in comparison with the Japanese level of superior service, probably some of the best found in the world.

In Japan you can be treated like an empress at a place like McDonalds- where the cashiers bow and recite the most impeccable spiels with near military precision that take care of every single moment of your experience. They want to make sure you have everything you need and practically present your food to you with Vannah White perfection. I have to admit, I got used to this over there.

Contrast this with the American service industry:

I am transferring planes in Dallas and go up to a taco stand.
The girl saunters over to me with eyes rolled up to the ceiling and a kind of threatening posture. She reminded me of one of a school bully- like she might lean over and spontaneously pinch me. I was a little afraid of her. She said in a very irritated voice, elongating her vowels in a Southern drawl:

"can I help youuuuu?"

Her eyes told me that she hated me. She was pissed to have to work at all and I was just another fool in her life that mucked up her day. I was a customer and that irritated her. I had no internal life. I was some kind of plastic person who had no heart or childhood or soul. I was an obstacle. Another stupid task to get rid of as soon as possible, in the midst of her miserable day job.

I gulped and sheepishly ordered a taco, almost apologetically, as if to say, I'm sorry that I exist right now in your field of vision, but I've been traveling for over 10 hours on a plane and really could use some sustenance.

The girls in the back were talking about some asshole guy that screwed one of them over- pure hatred that went straight into my taco along with the tomatoes and cheese, my day's nourishment. The girl in the back sloppily folded the taco and wrapped it messily in some wax paper. The bully girl came back to me and casually and absently tossed the bag my way. I grabbed the soiled bag and left feeling depressed.

That kind of sums up my feeling about the service in my country. A lot of the time, I feel like I'm just bothering waitstaff. It is very very rare that I find a really good waitress or waiter that cares about my dining experience.

Sigh. I'm getting indigestion from just writing about it.