Every culture has its biases. Much like the Hatfields of West Virginia and the McCoys of Kentucky, the Japanese people and the Korean people are distrustful of each other. The gulf in their relationship goes back to 1910, but I was unaware of it until I began working at Nikko Securities on Wall Street.
Late one Tuesday morning, a representative of a Korean company arrived at the office for a meeting with Mr. O, Nikko’s state-side president. He was a young man, perhaps in his early thirties. I greeted him in the reception area and was pleased to find that his English was excellent with little trace of an accent. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before I escorted him to Mr. O’s office.
It was not uncommon for guests, no matter their ethnicity, to be offered tea as a gesture of welcome. Traditional Japanese kobucha, which has been consumed since medieval times, is made by pouring hot water over granules of fine-ground dried kombu (kelp) seasoned with salt. Though referred to as tea, kobucha is unlike any tea (green or otherwise) prepared by infusing tea leaves in water. It is completely different from kombucha, a popular drink produced by fermenting sugared tea with a culture of lactic acid bacteria.
Usually, my assistant would handle any of the non-corporate related activities in the office, but I enjoyed the ritual of making and serving the tea in the set of special cups we kept for such occasions. There was a formality to the process which generated a feeling of professionalism and high standards.
Mr. O’s meeting with this young man lasted until almost noon. They decided to continue their discussion over lunch at a popular Wall Street restaurant after which this man would take his leave. On their way out of the office, the man stood at the doorway of my office and offered his thanks for the courtesies I had extended. As he turned to leave, he fell to the floor – dead from a cerebral hemorrhage.
If you have ever witnessed a movie scene that takes place in a brokerage firm, you know that chaos reigns and never more than at that moment. First, there was an uncomfortable silence as none of us knew what to do. Next, one of our male employees performed the necessary steps to see if he was alive. Determining that he was not, I called the Chase Manhattan Bank medical department (in the 70s most big companies had their own medical staff) and asked for help. I also called Beekman Downtown Hospital (now New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan Hospital), knowing full well that in the madness that was lunch time on Wall Street, it would take an hour or more for an ambulance to arrive.
A Chase Bank medical staff member, having confirmed that the young man was dead, covered his body with a blanket. For a long time, no one moved. We just stood and stared. Then, the ringing of the phones broke our trance, and we went back to work. I do not know if I can describe the scene during the next 90 minutes adequately.
Imagine a rolled up carpet laying on the floor in front of Mr. O’s office. Since his input was needed on various business matters, employees would come and go numerous times in the course of the day. Each time, they were forced to step over the “carpet.”
Remember I wrote that the young man fell while standing in the doorway of my office. It was impossible for me to continue working at my desk so I had phone calls transferred to the trading floor. Mr. O did not understand why I was upset. If I remember correctly, he said “You should not be concerned. He will not be there tomorrow.”
Taken at face value, his words seem callous, but what he meant was that the man’s soul had moved on to a better place. Unfortunately, his young wife, who was waiting for him at their hotel, still needed to be informed and there was heated conversation over who would perform that duty. At that moment, I was grateful I spoke very little Japanese.
Tomorrow – A Rude Awakening
Donna Carbone is the Executive Director/Playwright in Residence at the Palm Beach Institute for the Entertainment Arts, where education through entertainment is the mission statement.
Please visit: pbinstituteforentertainmentarts.com