Riding home tired,stoping over a supermarket to grab a drink seemed like a waste of time. But knowing too well that if I don’t I will yearn for it, I forced myself to. I know the store pretty well. So wasting no time, my eyes are focused to where they store my favorite Cocoa mix.My eyes fall on a man who looks familiar. He looks at me, but I give a quick lazy look. We might know each other but stopping for a conversation would ruin my time to rest. I get myself as busy as I can.

Memories of how the day was revisit. I was working with a Christian Japanese brother, kind of a rare occurrence. I expected much of him because of his religion. But after relating with him, I was reminded of a comment by my good friend that those who join religion do so because they are weak. I don’t think so, but it’s all that I could agree with in this situation. His relationship with the director didn’t seem to be nice. Working as three was supposed to be fun. But it turned up to be highly tensed seven hour session.

We began by fear of yakuza. Apparently, the reports given previously made the lady director feel lazy to report to work. She came with half equipments for set up. This meant that people who were going to trust us would be few in number. You need to prove your worth in Japan. You won’t gain favor from anybody if you look clumsy. The perfect equals real. The more complicated your look the more genuine you will be perceived to be. Perfect is what we are looking for. No time for risks.

My good Christian friend got a good catch. But fear was too much on him. He used three times as much explaining or should I say repeating issues to a client. He was not sensitive to time. For whatever reason, the lady was warm-hearted and decided to register. But she was genuinely in a rush. Not like those who say they don’t have time to unhook themselves from a conversation. And the director noted. Of course she wanted to have a share of her telling the same stories and embarrassing the inefficient front-liner. So she gave a stern warning to him about his style.

Instead of joy of convincing one in a hundred, there was a cry of “poor me, I can’t be good enough”. My head thought, you should forget how bad you’re and rejoice that you’ve managed to win a heart. What’s bigger? I don’t think small mistakes matters as much. We should have them to remind us that we are not gods. Or else we end up worshiping ourselves or demanding others do that to us.

Then I headed to the counter. There was a long queue which drove me crazy. But a sight of a lady customer and a high school boy at the counter kept my mind busy. A packet of bento dropped. The customer was sluggish to pick it up. She did it so slowly with her eyes fixed on the poor boy who was running to correct his mistakes while uttering endless “I am sorry.” she managed to pick the packet before the boy, which made him more guilty. The plead for mercy was genuine. If it were me, I would talk the boy to the reality that people, who are normal, do make such mistakes. And they are human because they do. No word came from the lady.

As if to add salt to the wound, she asked the boy to not include the package in her shopping. I told myself, “she didn’t need it at first.” nothing really happened when it dropped. Why make the young boy feel guilty because of something we do all the times?

Our very essence is imperfection. That is what keeps us loving and appreciating each other. That we make mistakes makes us revive the power to try more and more in us. Reminds me of a guy who said, “I count not myself as to have achieved, but forgetting the past, I run towards the goal that I might receive the crown.”