Which direction does an E point?

I may have set the bar too high in my aspirations for coming to Japan, despite my only goal being not to embarrass myself. But I still maintain that the incidents regarding the medical exam I underwent on Friday for my job were not wholly my fault. After all, which direction does an E point anyway?

It's like asking which direction a square points, it technically has four corners so it points in four different directions. Now I know a few of you would assume, as I would, that it is not the corners that determine the direction of an E, but the spaces in between the actual letter.

(For those of you not following, and believe me when I say I empathize with you allow me to draw you a map).

E < Space in between the middle and bottom branch of the E. Note how, like the arrow head pointing at the E, the empty space flows freely to the right, but technically points to the left.


In this case, the assumption that space determines the letter's direction is correct, but it then begs the question, which way do we follow the spaces? Do we follow them to the right of the E, out to the free open, or are then instead, like an arrow head, pointing to the left?

Its a fine debate to be sure, worthy of possibly 30 maybe even 40 seconds of discussion. But, as I am in a foreign country, a discussion that ought to take three seconds usually takes about 20 minutes and an interpreter. I'm actually in the market for a math major who can create an equation so I'll know how long a simple conversation will take. Then I can decide if I want to invest the time.

Or better yet, I can put a picture of it on my wall as motivation for studying Japanese.

All this gets away from the actual event, the medical exam. It was just a simple check up, I was weighed, measured, had an ECG done, had blood drawn, had a hearing test done and finally concluded the exam with a vision test.

In front of me sat the typical vision test microscope. On the outside of it sat a guide to the letters that presumably were inside the microscope, namely Es of various directions, one facing left, right, upward and downward. Under each of these was an assigned direction, left, right, top and under. So yes, there was a guide available for me to follow so that I might learn how to describe an E's direction, but it is my opinion that this guide was a sick joke only meant to torment me further. I could not, after all, see the guide from inside the microscope.

On top of this, inside the microscope were there were five rows, alternating between numbers and Es. The end result was a vision chart that looked something like this.

1 2 3 4 5
E E E E E
6 7 8 9 10
E E E E E
11 12
E   E

Of course, the chart had the Es decreasing in size and the direction of the E altered. But this is generally what the chart looked like. Thus, when the tester asked me what direction the number six E was pointing by saying "Six" I emphatically stated right.

This was the correct answer....for the number one E. Meanwhile, the tester, who I can only assume thought that I knew I needed a new pair of glasses and was trying to get out of buying them, sat dumbstruck. I, on the other hand, could not figure out how I could have misread the largest E on the vision test board. So I backed away and began viciously examining the guide to what direction an E pointed. The chart clearly stated that I had given the correct answer for the E that I had read.

After a few more minutes of having an E direction discussion between myself and the tester, a translator came to mediate between us. It was the translator who gave me the revelation that if I just followed the E's spaces, I would find the correct answer.

"But," I thought to myself, "That's the opposite direction implied on the chart!"

It was not actually the opposite direction implied on the chart. The translator meant for me to follow the spaces outside the E. The problem was, I had tried that method already to no avail. The translator had now given me an excuse to believe that the chart was actually incorrect.

The test was repeated then for a number of minutes until finally my tester became fed up and simply said, "One!" And, to my chagrin, I realized that it was not a communication error, it was not a translation error, it was not even a problem of direction. Apparently, I don't have the ability to count.

So, after many attempts to persuade a very skeptical tester that I can actually see (even if it is my brain's only apparent function) and proffering numerous 'Gomen Nasais' for the time I wasted, I managed to leave there with everything but my pride intact.

I am slightly looking forward to my first visit to a Japanese eye doctor, however.

 (Writer's note: my aunt was kind enough to provide me with an equation for determining the length of a simple conversation in a foreign country. It is as follows:

(a² x b² x c² x d  x e  x f  x g² ) ÷ h³

a²(specificity of subject matter)

 

b² ( your understanding of the language)

 

c² (difficulty of the language)

 

d (general health and mobility - this accounts for your ability to gesticulate and act out what you are trying to convey) 

 

e (level of embarrassment you are willing to assume - this again accounts for how willing you are to act out your side of the conversation)

 

f ( level of patience in the culture - this can vary by area within a country, ex: NYC conversations will be short even if you get no information at all)

 

g² (general chattiness and friendliness of person with whom you are speaking- in Ireland this turned out to be a very high number whenever I stopped to ask directions)

 

h³ (how quickly you are willing to abandon ship by nodding, smiling and saying 'Thank you'- without understanding the information you wanted) 

 

Thanks Aunt Peg. I believe the equation is sufficiently scary to keep my Japanese studies on the straight and narrow).