The Choke Artist by David Yoo

Author:David Yoo [YOO, DAVID]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: HUM003000
ISBN: 9781455510269
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2012-06-19T00:00:00+00:00

Turning Japanese

SHARON THOUGHT I WAS Japanese. She was leaning over the front desk using the phone, telling her husband not to bother picking up a Japanese-English dictionary on his way home from work. “No sense buying a dictionary when you can go straight to the source,” she said, winking at me. Sharon was my temp contact at Ganesis and the assistant to the CEO. She was preparing to host an international exchange student from Japan for two weeks, and apparently I figured highly into her plans. The student was due to arrive at Logan Airport the following Thursday, a direct flight from the Land of the Rising Sun. Employees drifted by the front desk and I tried to look busy, but since my only task was answering the phone, all I could do was stare blankly at the cubicle walls.

I’d been handling the phones at Ganesis every Wednesday for the last five months. Most temps wouldn’t accept a gig that’s only one day a week, especially on Wednesdays, since it puts you out of the running for the more highly sought after week-long assignments. I took it because, despite being broke, it turned out to be the easiest temp gig ever. Until Sharon said otherwise, I gladly considered myself scheduled to come in every Wednesday for the rest of my life.

Sharon was in her late forties. She was extremely thin, with buggy eyes that made her resemble a grasshopper. She was friendly in a way that’s undeniably authentic but still manages to sound kind of artificial. It was probably on account of her southern accent. The fact that she assumed I was Japanese didn’t help my impression of her. I didn’t bother clarifying that I was Korean (albeit one born and raised in the States who couldn’t actually speak the language) the first time because at that moment it felt like less of a hassle to just let it slide. She’d made only a few passing references to my Japanese heritage since then, and I figured her thinking this wasn’t hurting anybody, least of all me. I mean, strangers assumed I was any number of nationalities, anyway. But at this point, far too much time had passed for me to correct her because it would make me the asshole for misleading her for so long.

And now she was asking me to teach her how to speak Japanese. I realized it was a no-win situation, and I had only one option: come clean.

Sharon hung up the phone.

“I can’t believe my luck,” she beamed. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Of course I wasn’t, but I couldn’t help but blush.

“I just want to learn the common phrases so we can get by,” she added.

“I don’t think it would be reasonable to expect to learn more in so short a time.”

“Teach me something now,” she said, poking me in the shoulder.

I took a deep breath.

“Listen, Nance, I probably should have—”

“What does ‘Domo arigato, Mister Roboto’ mean?” she asked.

I stared at her.

“It’s not the type of thing I need to learn, but I’ve always wondered.

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