An Unexpected Visitor
July 22nd, 2009 | 0 Comments | Health Delivery, Mistakes, Service Sector, Sex, Social Norms |
Last night was one of those nights when one cannot sleep well for reasons beyond one’s control. I was still working on a document at around 2 a.m. when my daughter woke up and asked me to sleep next to her. She must have had a nightmare because she cuddled very tightly, holding my hand and putting one of her legs on top of me.
I moved away each time I thought she was asleep, but she would move immediately to be next to me again. I ended up being squashed between her, her stuffed animals and the wall. I had a hard time falling asleep, but I managed to fall into a slumber that would soon be interrupted.
I awoke to the sound of some neighboring apartment’s doorbell, then I heard another. Later, the next door neighbor’s doorbell rang and finally, ours. I did not get up for I did not want to wake up my child and because I assumed that, if it were an emergency, the person outside would ring again and speak aloud. For a brief moment I did think that it might be the police, but I quickly discarded that idea; in an emergency the cops would have come with their siren blaring and then they would have given some advice through a loudspeaker. Then I thought that probably some non compos mentis christian had unwisely decided to propagandize his or her product by cornering victims at a time when they could not politely allege that they were on their way out.
As I speculated as to whom might be ringing all doorbells in the middle of the night, I could hear radio-like sounds and a whispering voice. At that point I decided to try to break free from my daughter’s locking grip without waking her up. Before I could unfetter myself, however, my wife got up at lightning speed and went to open the door. I barely managed hear that she was talking to another woman. Both of them spoke in too low a voice for me to get the drift of what they were talking about; I only got to listen the doorbell ringer politely apologize for disturbing us at an unearthly hour and my wife’s reply that it was no big deal (though I was certain my partner probably wanted to bite the untimely visitor’s head). At that point I guessed that it must have been indeed a member of the estranged brethren; after all, on account of their bumptious proselytism they have a certain reputation for ignoring Japanese norms of courtesy.
My daughter, woken up by the noise, requested that I take her to the bathroom. When I picked her up she asked about her mother’s location. As I took my child to the toilet I saw my wife –standing in a Ninja assassin pose– looking through window that faces the parking lot and the other buildings in the apartment complex where we live. Once my daughter was finished with her business, I went to find out why the Ninja in the house was standing guard and to ask what all the commotion had been about. My wife, who was quietly huffing and puffing, told me she had also considered not getting up, but did so anyway in case it were the police who rang the door to give us some kind of urgent notice. When she opened the door she found herself face to face with a sex worker from what in Japan is called “deribariiherusu” (デリバリーヘルス: “health delivery”), an euphemism that is usually abbreviated as “deriheru” (デリヘル). The young worker was supposed to visit apartment 201, but she did not know that every one of the four buildings has apartments 201A and 201B, i.e., eight apartments where her customer potentially lived.
My wife was furious for being woken up at odd hours and angry that the young worker was too dim to think of calling her office to verify where her customer lived. Because the delivery company appeared to have failed to make sure its employee was not a nuisance to others, my wife thought the it must not be a serious firm.
I asked the head of the house why she was still standing guard, with fire in her eyes she answered that she wanted to know who was the irresponsible fool that hired a service without providing enough information (about his delivery address) to prevent inconveniencing other people. I told her that the customer would not be stupid enough to do anything that would reveal his identity. Three minutes later, however, the next door neighbor left in a rush, got on his car and disappeared for about ten minutes.
When he came back, he climbed the stairs talking himself, complaining about his bad luck. I can only reckon that he had no choice but to pay for a service he could neither consume nor consummate.
