The Ad in the Train

Tokyo subways are covered with ads.  Look up and one will see hanging from the ceiling on colorful sheets of paper the latest articles touting the truth through propaganda, cheap journalism, paparazzi photos, and tabloid gossip.  Look on the walls of the trains and one will see everything from beer to insurance to waxing services to festivals highlighted for sale and to inform.  I don't mind these much.  I find it a good way to keep up with pop culture in Japan, trends, and whatever passes for news.  Most days my eyes glaze over what's on the walls of steel tubes running underground in Tokyo.  Today, well today I stand in awe of people who connect dots not meant to be connected.

I swear I am not making this up.  I feel that must be stated front and center because while I pride myself in an active and adventurous imagination, today I must concede.  Evidently, I would have failed miserably had I gone into marketing or advertising.  This ad ... this ad takes the cake. 

Above the automatic doors of each train car are two screens.  The one on the right shows the name of the station, how far we are from the next several stations, and whether the doors on the left or right will open.  This screen is informative.  It pays to read this if sleeping, or reading a smart phone display or a book is how one usually passes the time on a train.  Stops are easy to miss. 

The other screen displays more ads.  Today on the way to my lunch meeting I glanced up and didn't pay attention to the girl selling cosmetics while she sat at a white desk.  I didn't pay attention to which coffee brand was introducing a new flavor.  What caught my attention was the two-part question, one line in red and another in blue under the heading, "If a foreigner stopped you on the street and asked for directions in their language what would you do?"  The red option was, A: say you don't understand them and walk away.  The blue option was, B: show them using gestures and explain the best you could.

Flash to a screen shot of a man with the red answer.  I can't hear him but the line he's evidently giving the mic is, "I'd walk away if I don't understand them."  The woman with the blue answer is indeed gesturing wildly, and while I still can't hear the answer, the line reads, "Surely if I point enough they'll understand."

Then comes the bar graph.  Ask 100 Japanese the same question and how many offer the red "I'd walk away" answer and how many would give the blue "I'd gesture" answer.  I hold my breath.  I prepare.  This can't be good.

And, I'm wrong.  Of the 100, 81 would gesture and try to help while 19 would shake their heads and walk away.  Nice job, 81 people.  That's kind of you to try.  Thanks.

I assume this is the end.  I am wrong again.  (Surely, a record.  Twice in one day?)  This is the part I can't make up. 

So far this is not an advertisement but a public service announcement about helpful Japanese assisting lost foreigners.  We all feel good watching this, the Japanese satisfied with their kindness and foreigners touched by the ever-polite Japanese sense of hospitality.  Why not end it there?  This is where my imagination fails me.  I would have left it at a feel-good group hug message.  Sell something after this?  Why?  Why ruin a good thing?

What comes next stumped me.  The fuzzy warm feeling story turns into a psychological analysis of the red-answer people and blue-answer people.  A perky young woman shows up on the screen and asks, "If the people answering in red were a type of ramen, what flavor would they be?"

What?  Ramen?  We're determining personality types now by associating them with ramen?  Why?

She asks the same question about the blue-answers.  What flavor would they be?

For the record, the red people were soy sauce flavored, and the blue people were salt flavored.  Soy sauce because they don't like change (I'm quoting here) and they don't take risks, and salt for the blue answers because they like adventure and will try new things.  I am not making this up. 

There's more.  (Because, why end here?) 

Now comes the advertisement.  Enter a new app developed by one of Japan's largest telephone companies offering instant verbal translation.  Want to ask, "How do I get to the train station?"  There's an app for that.  Download it and speak your question into your phone and up pops both the written and spoken phrase you are to ask.  It also translates the answer back to you, presumably, if the person speaks their answer into your phone.

So, there you have it.  Helpful Japanese get classified into a ramen flavor to sell an app. 

I feel some how entitled to take a bow after sharing this with you.  You're welcome.

The power of advertising

"I want that," I say, pointing to the television.
"What?" My husband looks up from his laptop and replies with no idea what I'm talking about.
"That," I point.
"What 'that'?"  He's looking at the television, completely confused.
"You missed it."  I'm annoyed.
"What was it?"
I turn to him.  "Frankenstein was painting her toenails." 
His look says it all.  "Frankenstein was painting her toenails," and he repeats it slowly, making sure I really said what I said.  "Whose toenails?"
"Yeah.  Frankenstein was painting that woman's toenails.  She was sitting by the pool.  I think it was somewhere in Florida.  I want Big Apple Red."
"You want Frankenstein to give you a pedicure?"  He's not sure I'm sane.
"Not a pedicure," and I try not to add a tone that implies I would add "duh" at the end of that phrase.  Clearly a complete pedicure would take too long.  I just want my nails done.  By Frankenstein.
"I want you to get someone to dress up like Frankenstein and paint my toenails.  Red."
"Red.  Yeah.  I got that part.  You want me to get some guy to dress up in a Frankenstein costume and paint your toenails?  I just want to make sure I'm getting this."
I honestly don't understand what the big deal is.  "Yes, I want you to get someone to dress up as Frankenstein, and yes, I want that person to paint my toenails." Duh.  "Maybe for Christmas?" I add.
He's deliberate in what he says next.  "May I ask why?"
"It looks like fun."
"Fun," and he trails off.

Am I the only one who finds the idea of sitting pool-side, sunbathing, and having Frankenstein paint my toenails serious fun?  I think not.  The power of suggestion, that this would be absolutely loads of fun, it's so clear to me.  Surely this is why whoever is offering the services of Frankenstein's pedicure skills put it on a television commercial.  Right?

Commercials are meant to sell.  They want us to buy their products and services.  Some do a better job of this than others.  Case in point.  A Japanese credit card company commercial says the following:  "What you've seen on the previous commercial, and what you'll see on the next--buy them.  Use this credit card."  The implication is "buying is good and you should do it through us."  No beating around the bush there.

Another commercial, this time for a stew, first starts out with a Christmas tree with lights flickering out from under piles of white snow.  Star-shaped lights turn into star-shaped carrots in the stew.  Yes, I now want to buy that stew.  I also think star-shaped carrots are now officially a wonderful idea.  Piping hot stew on a warm winter night with star-shaped carrots?  I'm sold.

Commercials for canned coffee make even coffee look appealing.  Those drinking them look happy, caffeinated, and ready to hit the day.  That coffee is my current nemesis makes the fact these commercials catch my eye and make me wonder about my decision to continue avoiding the drink even a stronger point.

Staying with the coffee theme for a moment.....Some canned coffee advertising makes no sense but still makes one stand up and take notice.  I was sitting on a train, absent-mindedly looking around when I see the following:

It'd be great if chicks liked me.
Maybe I'll be a panda.
Chicks like pandas, right?
Pandas are cute.  Chicks like cute things.
But, then again, if I were a panda, I'd end up with a panda chick for life.
Hmm.  That won't work.
Pandas and human chicks don't mix.
Still, worth a shot, maybe?

What this has anything to do with coffee is beyond me, but I did actually get up from my seat and write down the words from the ad.  I didn't buy the coffee, but I had to stifle a guffaw on the train.

I find Japanese advertising to be a mix of subtle, nuanced suggestions mixed with outright "buy this and you too can look like me" statements.  I'm not sure I can completely put my finger on what is so different from the ads I see back in the US but different they are.  Here is yet another new side of Japan I'm seeing.  Why I'm noticing this now is still a mystery to me, but the power of advertising has been a running theme in my life since my arrival.

"I can dress up as Frankenstein and paint your toenails."  Evidently, my husband is still figuring out how to look up where to find a company that sends out Frankensteins to sunbathing women.
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, 'why'?"
"I don't see why I can't paint your toenails."
"It's not the same thing."
"I don't get it."
"I want a real Frankenstein."
"You realize," and here he pauses, "you make no sense."
"I do, too,"  and I don't add, "in my world" because even after twenty-plus years there are clearly some things he still doesn't get.  Seriously powerful advertising is one of them.