One Stamp Please

Here I am once more. It’s always the same, beginning with the sliding doors closing behind me with a dull, decisive *thud*. I quickly ease myself into an obscure corner and cautiously survey my surroundings.

It appears the mid-morning rush has come and gone. Although there are a few people milling around the other side of the expanse, there is no one between me and my goal. Her head is bent over miscellaneous paperwork, right hand armed with a thick black pen that quickly darts around the sheet in front of her in sporadic intervals. She hasn’t seen me yet.

I feel my pulse begin to quicken as I work up my nerve to approach the counter. With as much stealth as I can muster, I quickly break out my memo pad and begin reviewing the phrases I had jotted down earlier today.

Kitte o ichimai onegaishimasu. Kitte o ichimai onegaishimasu. Kitte o ichimai onegaishimasu. Konnichiwa. Kitte o ichimai onegaishimasu.

In the past, communicating my desire to purchase a stamp and mail a letter or postcard has consisted of awkwardly spoken single Japanese words and lots of hand gestures. I’ve always dealt with the same lady, and she has done an admirable job discerning the meaning I’m trying to convey.

It was time to change the rules of engagement. With a few weeks of Japanese lessons under my belt, I had become more at ease with full sentence pronunciation and increased my awareness of intonation and the flow of the spoken language. This late December day, I was determined to simply stand and voice my request in a complete, proper, sensible sentence. I had actually just learned it the past week. It would be silly to not use what I’ve learned when the opportunity presents itself right? Right.

Quiet down, you easily excitable stomach butterflies.

During my momentary distraction, Stamp Lady lifts her head and glances around. With the same feeling of certainty you get when you enter a train station and suddenly feel fifty pairs of eyes assessing your decidedly foreign form, I met her laser beam gaze.

There’s the flicker I know so well… one of recognition, dismay, and finally, resignation. The second one I don’t take personally, as I’m sure she’s just as embarrassed by her inability to speak English as I am of my inability to speak Japanese. In fact, I’m pretty sure that same flicker can be seen in my eyes when someone stops me on the street and begins to speak Japanese rapidly. As for the resignation… it probably has more to do with the fact that she knows she can’t pawn off the job of interpreting my request off to another worker, given her success with our past dealings.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, I soon find myself standing directly in front of her politely smiling, expectant frame. Suddenly remembering that I too have the capacity to work my face into a pleasant expression, I flash a smile of my own and then work my mouth around the not-as-foreign framework I’d practiced only moments ago.

As the words leave my mouth, I can only think of one thing… I can’t believe I just forgot the “mai”! At least I haven’t gestured yet… oh wait… yeah, they’re clenched in a fist alright…

We stare blankly at each other. Silence.

Seconds (or was that minutes) later... with a slightly warmer smile, she responds with a phrase I still don’t understand (er, does she think if I can speak it, surely I can understand it? I’m so absolutely okay with that at this moment…) and holds her hand out for my letter. Transaction ensues.

VICTORY IS MINE!

Giddy with elation, I breeze out of the post office, startling a nervous wisp of a young woman peddling New Year’s cards with a bright smile along the way. I’m left with a sense of accomplishment and flushed with the sweet taste of success.

Who cares if she actually fathomed the need herself instead of actually responding to my request? At this moment in time, fear of embarrassment has no hold over me.

“I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” ~Psalm 34: 4

Is it just me, or did it turn out to be a really gorgeous day?