The Least Useful Guide to Fukuoka

A story about being belittled for the first time in years.

I used to be the subject of light-hearted insults from shop assistants, hairdressers, nurses and other hospitality workers. But in the last 10 years I haven't felt looked down on. Or rather, people seem to have become polite and kind to me. I assumed it was because I got older and had an air of dignity about me. 

Today, in a butcher's section of Iwataya department store, an obachan behind the counter who looked as old as me insulted me to my face when I asked her for some pieces of pork belly with less fat. I said, politely, "Sorry to bother you" and she retorted: "Yes, indeed it's too much of a bother" (note: my translation with a very negative impression).

I felt myself looking upset. Then she said "I was joking" -- obviously trying to patch things up, but without saying sorry. 

I still don't think I was a bad or intimidating customer to her, but my humble attitude may have triggered her sadism. Or I may have expected too much from this local department store, which is the last one that does not rely on lower-priced retailers, such as Muji in Daimaru and Daiso in Mitsukoshi, to attract customers. 

Anyway, the most annoying things about this incident are that I acted as if nothing had happened, not even talking back or asking her to take her boss with her or reporting the rude remark to the customer service desk, and most of all, spending my life grumbling about such a trivial thing at the end of the year when I am supposed to be busy doing this and that. 

The bellies I bought? They were, as you may well imagine, full of fat. Perhaps even fatter than I would find in Marukyo. I had to remove a fifth of the weight I had paid for before cooking the Dongpo pork for the New Year.