Open Writing

Business success in Japan was traditionally celebrated with an evening at a Geisha House, so when Mrs Yomiura topped the sales quotas for Coca Cola and was named 'Bottler of the Year' she demanded her night of celebration at a geisha house - not just any geisha house but the most expensive one in Tokyo.

This was an awkward situation for the Coca Cola executives. Mrs Yomiura was a widow in her mid-fifties. Her husband had owned the bottling plant in Nagoya and she took over the running of the business after his death. Traditionally women were barred from geisha houses. Perhaps she would prefer a trip to Singapore?

With a twinkle in her eye, Mrs Yomiura replied that she would invite Mitchell-San's wife as her guest of honour.

"Then there will be two businesswomen at the table with all the other businessmen," she said.

So it was agreed. A traditional celebration evening at the geisha house with 30 to 40 employees including sales managers and office staff with Mrs Yomiura and myself as the guests of honour.

I was intrigued at the prospect of seeing at first hand the traditional celebrations of a geisha house, especially at the most exclusive house in Tokyo, frequented by members of the Diet (Parliament) and wealthy businessmen.

The Geisha House was very impressive from the outside. Set in a landscaped garden in the middle of the Ginza residential area, it was a three storeyed building with balconies and a columned entrance.

We were met at the entrance by two smiling geishas dressed in traditional silk kimonos and ornate head-dress.

As custom decreed, the men walked ahead of us down the long wooden hallway leading to the main dining room. We had discarded our street shoes at the door and were given soft velvet slippers to wear.

Long wooden tables with beautiful floral arrangements had been prepared and we were seated in order of importance.

Mrs Yomiura, as the principal guest of honour, sat in the middle of one side of the main table facing the raised dais where the geishas would later dance, sing and play music to entertain us. As her special guest I sat directly opposite her. We were both assigned two geisha hand-maidens, one on either side of us - as were all the male guests, who were then given seats in order of their importance to the company.

My husband, as senior marketing manager, was seated at a table further down the room.

Luckily for me this geisha house had spaces beneath the tables where legs could be spread out comfortably, and cushioned back rests to lean against. Those who could sat cross-legged in the Japanese fashion.

The Momma-San appeared with a bevy of young girls who would wait on us and they began setting out dishes of sushi, bowls of rice, raw vegetables cut into shapes of roses and other flowers, bowls of sauces and other entrees.

Mrs Yomiura's favourite beverage was Johnny Walker Red Label whisky, and it was rumoured that she could drink the average Coca Cola executive under the table at regional meetings without batting an eyelid.

To my dismay I saw that she had ordered four bottles of whisky - two for her and two for me. Whisky, traditional Japanese sake and beer were placed on the other tables. At a signal from the Momma-San, the geishas opened the bottles and poured drinks for all of the guests.

The geisha on my right handed me a glass of straight whisky on ice.

"Campai!" shrilled Mrs Yomiura, raising her glass in a toast to the future prosperity of Coca Cola.('Campai' is the Japanese way of saying 'here's your health' and it is considered very impolite not to raise one's glass, return the greeting and down the contents of the glass in one gulp.)

Dutifully I returned her greeting and gulped my glass of whisky, wondering ow long I'd be able to keep up with her if all those stories were true. "Campai," said all the guests and downed their glasses.

Plates of food were being passed down the tables and I managed to get myself a filling bowl of rice and vegetables.

Mrs Yomiura insisted on playing her game of Campai every few minutes, and we all had to put our chopsticks to one side and join in.

No wonder she managed to floor all those hard-drinking Coca Cola executives if she insisted on drinking before one could get a morsel of food to one's mouth.

On the stage a mournful looking geisha played a Samisan, the traditional one-stringed instrument, and sang a tuneless song. I'm sure it would have been very interesting and educational if I had been able to understand the words, but I was having trouble keeping up with Mrs Yomiura's frequent toasts and wished the main meal would arrive.

Geishas traditionally fed their male guests by picking up morsels of food with their chopsticks and placing them in the mouths of their willing guests (whom I thought looked like a bunch of baby birds waiting for the mother bird to feed them). My geisha gave up trying to feed me and left me to use my own chopsticks.

The 'companion' geishas seated on the left of the guests were supposed to keep the males amused during the meal by fondling their bodies, stroking their backs and whispering rude jokes. They did not know what to do with women guests so sat silently with their hands in their laps looking most unhappy.

My head was throbbing, my legs felt wobbly and although I longed to get up and find the ladies' toilet and get some fresh air, I knew it would be foolish to risk standing up and walking across the room.,I could just see myself crashing to the floor in the middle of a group of doll-like geishas.

From the sounds of laughter behind me I guessed that some of the younger men had already had more than enough to drink. Would the celebration evening turn out to be an evening of disgrace?

Then I remembered that an invited guest of honour was allowed (under the rules of Japanese etiquette) to request a special beverage. Catching Mrs Yomiura's eye I asked her if I could drink green tea instead of whisky.

"Of course," she answered in English, "you can drink tea or beer or anything else, for all I care. I just wanted to get these boys good and drunk to teach them a lesson. I'm tired of their patronising attitude towards me because I'm a woman," and she gestured to one of the geishas, who thankfully brought me a teapot full of hot green tea!

Tea never tasted so good!

The singing and dancing on the stage got louder and louder, and Mrs Yomiura's cries of "Campai" became more frequent until most of the hapless men were sprawled across their tables or had fallen under them.

The plates of food were cleared away and pots of green tea appeared . Hot towels were handed out and then dry towels. Was that a wry smile I noticed on Mrs. Yomiura's face as she watched the pots of tea being re-filled again and again?

It would be some time before this lot of male chauvinists dared to look down their noses at this lady!

Protocol demanded that the guest of honour signal the conclusion of the evening. Mrs Yomiura banged on the table with a spoon. She thanked the Coca Cola Company for the opportunity to attend a traditional evening at a geisha house and spoke of the power of business women in the new Japan. In her Western style evening gown shepresented a commanding figure.

As the geishas smiled and bowed us out of the main entrance, I imagined their fervent wish was that not too many businesswomen in Japan would be as successful or as stubborn as Mrs Yomiura.