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I had decided not to renew my contract at Geos. It was made clear to me that Odawara Geos didn't want to hire me back but head office wanted re-hire me and transfer me to another school.

The trainer came to the school to talk about it, "Chris, we want to move you to another school. Somewhere in Yokohama." said Sid.
"Wouldn't that just be the same shit in a different pile?" I asked.
"Ummm...yes."
"Sorry man. I've just got to get the hell outta this."
"Oh. Cool. I completely understand. What are you going to do next?"
"I've got an uncle who runs a small travelling circus in Canada. He's promised to let me apprentice the MC gig. I've always liked animals and clowns. Hell, throw in a spangled bikini or two and I'm in like that!." I said snapping my fingers to punctuate the speed with which I would be in.

"Great! Good stuff! You do have a great voice; deep with a certain timbre. Public announcements should be right up your alley." he smiled bobbing his head up and down enthusiastically.

A life in the circus, after three years of Geos I was prepared for it. The clowns, ding-a-lings, mustachioed women, three shell game shysters, slick suited carnival barkers promising all varieties of exotic foreign enlightenment, and the freaks and geeks who toiled among the steaming heaps of elephant dung were my people. Among them, my hideous deficiencies as a human could be easily masked.

The time at Geos had wrought a terrible toll on me. I came to expect sheaves of paperwork for the slightest thing. Going on vacation? Ask your managers, the senior Japanese teacher, and send three copies of the Holiday Request Form to head office with three different seals of approval on them and MAYBE you'll get the requested days off. Normal. I wouldn't raise an eyebrow. Unquestionably it had to be done.

What did you do for the first ten minutes of your class? What did you do for the next fifteen? How about the next twenty minutes after that? Fill in the paperwork, dammit! Presentation! Practice!! Production!!! This is a scientifically proven formula here, man! Pres. Prac. Prod. Again! Pres. Prac. Prod. Again! Pres. Prac. Prod.! Fill it in neatly and press hard with your black ink (and ONLY black ink!) pen. Points will be subtracted for using abbreviations not known by Geos staff living within the Yamanote Line loop.

Going to the washroom? Make sure there is at least one other foreign teacher on the premises before you go! Wouldn't you hate it if a potential customer came in and there wasn't anyone there to interview him or her? Jesus Christ almighty! You might be feeding Jonah to the whale when your sales manager needed a charming mug to close a deal.

The foreign teachers were shuffled around, pushed about, kicked and prodded into different positions.

"Do this! Do that! Fill that paperwork in again and next time use only B5 size sheets of paper! Used B5's, too! Smile! We're doing you a massive favour, you know? Where else could you learn about Japan Inc.? Smile! We're not paying you to pout!"

I'm surprised Geos didn't ask us to pin numbers on our clothes and sit seductively in the lobby making eyes at new customers.

"Number 37? Oh yes, he's quite a capable young man. Very charming. From Canada, you know. Lot's of interesting stories. He can make an hour fly by! Oh, Chris? Chris? I think we've got a level two here!"
"Level two, huh? OK, well it looks like me and you have a date with Interchange 2. C'mon, let's go!"

I gave up some of the best days of my youth to whore for Geos. At least I was paid.

I turned the key to lock the door of Leopalace #207 at about 11 in the morning on April 6th for the last time of my life. I was going home. The punch clock would have to punch someone else that morning.

I looked at my watch and flinched, then my head slumped to the side, my eyes glazed over and drool started streaming from the corner of my mouth. I envisioned myself dashing for the photocopier in the lobby of Geos to make copies of the text I knew my student who I would normally be teaching at that time would forget to bring. I started brainstorming ideas on how to present adverbial clauses of time to a group of hard of hearing seniors. I began thinking of the limited choices for lunch I'd have that day and the noisy surroundings I'd sit in while eating. I thought of the strange woman I'd have to teach from 7 to 8pm who said nothing, did nothing, and whose face I didn't know because she always let her hair cover it. Special instructions from management: "Just keep on talking. Talk about anything. She just wants to listen." Freaky. I could have read the telephone book or a George Will column and presumably she would have been happy. Instead, I plowed through the Prep 2 text asking all the "What Do You Think?" questions of myself.
"If you found 10 million yen what would you do? Chikako? Hmmm?"
No response.
"Well, I think I'd take a trip..."

The music of the garbage truck brought me back to my senses.
"Whoa...helotism... fuck...think I gotta supplement that text's point...oh sweet jesus, no more. I gotta go."
I spun, grabbed my suitcases and staggered down the steps of the apartment building heading for the bus stop. The bus would take me to the station for the last time.

Clearly I was damaged. Obviously there was something wrong with me. Why would I start to whisper, "Flash cards, posters, campaign target students, flash cards, posters, campaign target students..." again and again if I had a moment with nothing to do? I ignored the whispers, the voices in my head urging me to, "check those contract dates and start approaching renewal campaign students..." but I felt guilty.

Snap out of it, man! They've attempted to brainwash you before and it didn't phase you! Remember McDonald's at Expo 86? That jackass who kept walking around saying, "If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean?" Remember the laughter that would break out as the idiot went into another part of the kitchen?

It was true, corporate brainwash techniques had rolled off my brain like so much scrambled egg on a Teflon frying pan before. This time was different, however. I had spent three years being digested through the belly of the beast and now I was being unceremoniously excreted like all the other nuts. Could I regain my sanity? Could I hold myself together? Or would I have some kind of grotesque flashback, click my heels, salute, and diligently start making a poster listing all the English speaking countries of the world when approached by a 23 year old in a suit? I didn't know.

This thought worried me. Had I really been spent? Had Geos really sucked the life force out of me? Was I to be tossed aside like an empty 2 litre can of Kirin Lager after a rowdy hanami party under the cherry trees?

Standing on the platform at Yokohama station, I saw a guy reach waaaay into a garbage can and pull up a comic book. You're absolutely fucking right, buddy, I thought. Nothing is used up and tossed away until the last person says so. I may be an empty 2 litre can of beer, but goddammit, there's always one or two sips of something left in those just when you think they're empty! Sure it might be warm, and there might be crumbs in it, but it's beer, damn it all to hell!

I'd be back. I'd be back on my own terms. No more of this corporate approach bullshit! I'd come back and prove my worth in a classroom. I would teach people! My mind was made up. I'd come back to Japan to be a real teacher, to see a city other than Odawara, to renew my love affair with 500ml cans of Ichibanshibori, to actually learn a little about the country other than what was told me in a musty old classroom.

I was sitting in the bar at Narita's old terminal, the last one with stools before you get on the flight. It was about 45 minutes before boarding time. An old guy sitting next to me asked, "Where are you from?"
"Canada."
"Oh, isn't it marvelous?
"Hm?"
"When I was your age, I never would have ever imagined sitting next to a Canadian at a bar. I would have had to've taken a ship's voyage for a week to be able to meet someone like you. Now, these days, well, with jet airplanes and such, we're all so much closer. I'm so glad I lived long enough to see this day."
"Here's to it." I said and we clinked glasses.

Once in Vancouver, I cabbed it to the corner of Robson and Granville. Oddly enough, it was pouring rain that day. Vancouver is usually such a sunny city...

I walked up Granville with my suitcases rubbing my soaked legs as I went. I made a few turns and wound up at the Bosman Hotel. I got into my room, dropped my bags and went over to the window. I looked out and saw the office tower on Nelson street where I was hired by Geos. Was it only three years ago? The waste. Jesus, the waste. Time spent can be kinder. Teaching shouldn't devour the teacher.

I picked up the phone and called a gal at West Can Treks a buddy of mine had recommended. West Can was good at arranging budget flights on short notice I had been told.

Sure enough, I booked a return flight for TKY to depart four days later at 600 bucks. I'd have to pay the people the next day. Until then, I had nothing to do. Nobody expected me anywhere. No photocopies to make. No paperwork to do. No meetings to attend. No management to please. No suits. No ties. No weirdo co-workers to placate. No customers to woo. I fell off the chair in giddiness. I was free! I didn't have to explain myself in paperwork anymore! I could spend an hour in unstructured "free talk". Holy shit! I could spend TWO hours in unstructured free talk! I never imagined it would be so vast: Life after Geos. The three years I had flushed created a great vacuum. I could do whatever I wanted now and I wasn't accustomed to it. Where was the paperwork? Where was the official approval? Where was the scorn and jealousy of my co-workers if something was approved? I couldn't believe I was seeing the day I had nothing to do. My ship had come in and it was taking me with it.

I was going back. I was going to see if I could make it on my own. Be a teacher. I would prove the assholes at Odawara Geos wrong. I wasn't finished, I was just getting started. There were some things I needed to do first...


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