CAUGHT IN THE ELECTRONICS STORE VORTEX

Let’s set the scene.

It’s the third day of a long weekend – that blissful stage where you’ve lost all sense of time and start to believe you might never have to work again. My wife and I had just purchased a shiny new washing machine at our local tech wonderland, also known as the electronics store – where reason goes in with you, but somehow never makes it back out.

All that was left was to pay. Simple, right? A quick beep of the credit card, and we’d be home to enjoy the the rest of the afternoon.

But no. Fate – and corporate sales strategy – had other plans.

The friendly salesperson casually asked whether we had a moment to fill out a short questionnaire about our mobile phones.

A moment! That word should have been my first red flag. Nothing good in life ever starts with, “Do you have a moment?”

Still, we were in good spirits – proud new owners of a new washing machine – a high-spec model from last year, bought at price well below the latest one. So, naturally, we said yes.

We ticked the boxes like obedient citizens. "Are you considering changing providers?" Yes. "Would you be open to learning about special deals?" Sure, why not.

After all, my wife had mentioned recently that she might need a new phone soon.

What we didn’t realise was that, by ticking those boxes, we had triggered a small rip in the space-time continuum.

Because seconds later – and I mean seconds – a representative from my mobile provider materialized in front of us. He appeared with such speed that I’m convinced he was teleported in from a secret back room labelled "Conversion Opportunities."

With the enthusiasm of a game show host, he explained:

If we switched my wife’s mobile plan to my provider, got her a new phone, and also transferred our home internet, we would receive:

• 20% off our brand-new washing machine,

• a free Samsung Galaxy (latest model, naturally),

• and a lower monthly bill for both phones and internet.

  
  

In short: a financial miracle.

I was stunned. This was the kind of deal I’d always assumed was a myth – the stuff of late-night commercials and unicorn sightings. After all, if something's too good to be true, it usually is.

But he had my full attention now. I mean, who says no to free stuff and discounts?

My wife’s eyes were sparkling. I could see it – the living room sofa and afternoon nap were officially cancelled.

What no one mentioned was that claiming this miracle would take the rest of the afternoon. There were contracts to sign, numbers to port, and enough digital consent forms to make me feel like I was signing over partial custody of my soul.

The highlight (or lowlight?) was the dramatic phone call with my wife’s old provider, who took the news of her departure with the same grace as someone being dumped on live television. They asked so many questions she briefly entered an existential crisis.

But – and this is important – it was worth it!

My wife now has a beautiful new phone that cost absolutely nothing. Our monthly bill dropped by about 30%. We got a 20% discount on our washing machine, plus an additional 7% cashback from loyalty points.

Also, for the first time ever in Japan, I made a major purchase and didn’t have to sign actual paper. I almost cried tears of digital joy.

We finally left the store at almost 7 p.m. I looked at my watch and realised the sun had set – we had entered the store in daylight and exited in a new geological era.

The experience felt like a marathon, except at the end, instead of a medal, you get new gadgets and mild dehydration.

Still, I suppose I can’t complain. We got a heavily discounted washing machine, a phone, and lower bills. Plus, the valuable lesson that I’m apparently the only person in Japan who still pays full price for an iPhone. Next time I want a new phone, I'll skip the Apple Store and head straight to the household appliance department.

Moral of the story: Never underestimate a Japanese electronics store. You go in for one thing… and come out with a lot more, including a newfound respect for corporate sales coordination.