The Even Greater Tokyo Region

The Continued Missteps of an Immigrant Labourer. Part IIII

I have spent the last 3 days disguised as an Enqueteur. Fighting for freedom, justice and the gorgeous women that are, unfortunately, an integral part of the job description. Traveling to the ends of the city, with unrestricted freedom of passage, greeted as liberators, and most importantly, wearing the yellow jacket, which can only be described by one word: "Snazzy".

I have to come clean a little bit, I may have sexied up the job description a tad. "Enqueteur" is actually French for 'Somebody Who Accosts Strangers And Asks Them To Fill In A Survey". But that was only a small part of the job. The other parts of the job was handing out pencils to willing participants, and counting passengers. [The counting was mostly performed by a small contraption called a "counter".]

Day One: The First Day.

I got briefed, or de-briefed, whichever one means that stuff was explained to me. This was an independent survey of the public transportation by the Ministry of Traffic, which was outsourced to a data/survey company, which was outsourced to the student temping agency where I am signed in. I truly am the algae which the plankton feed on. Me and my partner Enqueteer were given a list of buses to ride, and a bag of equipment.

To get to the first bus stop, we had to take the metro to the end of the line. Halfway there, we realised that we had not been given the counter. Because they couldn't entrust us to count passengers by traditional methods (on my fingers), we had to go back to get the counter.

Once we got there, we had to wait for an hour until the first bus. Getting paid for waiting: That's a profession? Apparently so. However, it is also a cold December, and there are hardly any places to sit inside at the ends of a metropolis. So we rode buses for the rest of the day, and had to wait for a long time between each bus. Sometimes it rained. Sometimes we could wait in a bus shelter. Those two things were mutually exclusive.

It was a very easy day of work, but my partner Enquetuer became irritated and grumpy at the crappy job. It was clear that one of us had too much dignity to work one more day of this. As luck would have it, all the buses were on time, except for the very last one. And, once the bus came and we got on, it broke down. The bus driver called on me to fix it. She must have mistaken me in my snazzy jacket for a bus-repairman. I had to press the emergency stop button, which seemingly fixed it. Who knew? I guess it it like the Ctrl Alt Del on your computer. [wouldn't it be cool to have a giant red emergency button on a computer instead? No, it wouldn't be cool at all.]Unfortunately, we did not get to ride one of these super-awesome driverless buses. I guess you have to have some ambition left.

Day 2 Metro Enquetteering

Rotterdam is a small metropolis. The actual city has about 600 000 people, with around 1 million in the greater city area. The greater city area is connected not just by buses, but also by a Metro. This was to be my enquetteering assignment, counting people on the underground, and asking them to fill in surveys.

Now, this is a picture of the inside of the metro. They are always lovingly adorned with graffiti. Although this is probably one of the cleaner ones I saw. I understand that graffiti is a form of art and expression, I just don't understand why the only three things they like to express are "West Side", or "Niggaz" or "Edwin Loves Sara".

Originally, we were supposed to survey the metro's with a team of four. That meant that each carriage could have a person counting, and another person irritating the passengers. However, two people called in sick, and we had to power-on nonetheless, alone in the carriage. It was a mixture of furiously pressing the counter- guessing how many people were coming in the 6 doors, and passengers avoiding me when I wanted to ask them. I mean, I completely understand: I wouldn't fill in a survey either. But maybe I am just an asshole.

The atmosphere on the metro is understandably cold. It's mostly underground. You can't look outside. It's dirty and smells funny. Most people listen to walkmans (which is like a portable ghettoblaster) or read books, or avoid eye contact by playing on their telephones. Many people ride the metro illegally as there are few ticket checks, and then there are strange people wearing yellow jackets, and they could be police or something.

On the whole, under 5% of the passengers filled out surveys for me. These were mostly old ladies- the demographic I apparently appeal to the most. The day drew on, going back and forth on the same metro line. Outside it began snowing, and the people became even colder. So much for Christmas spirit. Again, my new partner vowed never to do this kind of work again... This is a classic case of 'Only the weak-willed survive'.

Day Three, Tramming.

Aside from the bus and the metro, there is an extensive tram system in Rotterdam. This too needed to be surveyed. I traveled out to the end of the tram-line to start at 8:30, which required a criminally early wake-up. Again, two of the 4-man team called in sick. It was again just me and a new partner.

A tram is like a shitty train that has to obey road rules. The atmosphere is better, but the lines we were surveying went right through the heart of the city. Most people don't stay on the tram long enough to fill in a stupid survey. I mean really it was stupid, the first question is:

"was it easy to find a seat when you got on?"

Well, I'm not going to ask people who don't have a seat to fill in a survey, am I?

There were also long breaks between rides. However, the end of the metro lines are generally not the most exciting parts of town. Luckily for us, each tram always has a conductor and a driver on board. Most of them need to occasionally urinate, excrete and hydrate, and at the end of the line there is a purpose built tea-room for tram employees.

A wise person once told me: "You can go anywhere in life, as long as you carry a clipboard."

It's true. We had no right to be there, but me and my snazzy yellow be-jacketed partner just walked in, drank their coffee, sat in their seats, abused their toilets and had some colourful conversation. This was the routine for the entire day. Until 8pm. Yes, we rode the trams for an entire day, until we got sea-legs, and had heard every excuse and seen every stereotype. I came across all kinds of people. A deaf Moroccan kid, an old lady swearing at the driver, a Polish exchange student who got caught without a ticket, a gangsta guy playing music so loudly that the conductor was too afraid to tell him to shut up, a boy who scoffed when I approached him "What, are you a drug counselor?", a cheesy American who hit on the female conductor who flirted back with the subtlety of a soft-core porn actress, a guy who just wanted to complain to me as if I actually cared, a pair of drunken 16-year old girls...

The girls at the temping agency told me that I was their "Topper of the Month", after working only 2 days. I laughed at them, as it was only the 2nd day that I had worked for them. Did everyone else hate this job so incredibly much? From the high attrition rate, and the cancellation rate, I'd say yes. But to me, everything is still new to me. It was the first bus I had ridden in Rotterdam. I had never been to the where the trams went. I have never been the kind of person to talk to strangers, let alone ask them to do something. All the people I meet and the things I learn. Like, while young white kids who are trying to look cool will usually fill in a survey, cool-looking minorities won't. And the opposite is mostly true too. Girls in their 20's and guys in their 30's are good to ask. Old ladies often don't have glasses, but want to complain anyway. And elderly minorities just look at me funny. Now I have been part of the system, I will never trust statistics and polls again. It is so obvious that not all types of people respond in the same proportions.

What's happening is, I am learning about the dynamics of Dutch society and the nuances of Dutch language interaction far faster than I could have hoped. I thought that this might be the true value of my research work. Well, that and 9.45 Euro per hour. I am working another 8 1/2 hours tomorrow. No job is below me, especially for a price. I'm just along for the ride.Enquetuer, or stripper dressed up as an enquetuer? Either way, I have something for you to look at...