Hello neighbors! Last Thursday I trotted from the TV to Inmi -a kilometric corridor that every day costs me more to walk without having a bivouac halfway- to communicate:
-The president of Iberdrola has just called us fools, Inmi -said this with the bofe on the verge of imploding-.
-Do you speak in majestic plural, that is, has he called you a fool, or both of you? Because if he has referred to you, it would not be so strange either.
-Do we, I mean the two of us, have electricity rates regulated by the government, or the other? I countered the high command.
-No idea. I don’t know where I left ‘Míster Proper”s boat, I’m going to find out what rate we have!
“Well, then you called us both fools.” And I remind you that ‘Mr. Proper was at the beginning, now he is called Mr. Clean’. And that more than thirty years have passed since the change of brand – the ‘Míster Proper was at the beginning…’ I conveyed it to her by humming the commercial jingle of Don Limpio, but she was already twisted by the insult of José Ignacio Sánchez Galán, alias Ignacio Prince-.
-Well, you tell that Galán for me that, if I’m stupid, he’s a doghead.
I did not call the head…, that is, Galán, to express my wife’s opinion. I started back towards the sofa, after drinking a small mouthful of tap water for the road and there, already horizontal, I began to reflect on the traditional and ceremonial ‘Ceremony of Forgiveness’. Traditional and protocol in Japan. Here the forgiveness is not even protocolized. If anything, it would consist of opening the door, leaving a hospital room and pronouncing with a certain rueful gesture the formula: ‘I’m so sorry. I was wrong and it will not happen again.
The Japanese take forgiveness much more seriously. And with a high sense of sincerity and good faith. The Spanish-style forgiveness ceremony, on the other hand, does not guarantee that you actually feel anything, believe that you have made a mistake in something and, of course, that the mistake will stop happening. It will happen again.
The Japanese take forgiveness much more seriously. And with a high sense of sincerity and good faith. The Spanish-style forgiveness ceremony, on the other hand, does not guarantee that you actually feel anything
When a serious mistake is made in Japan, it is offended, a resounding illegality is incurred from the institutions, companies, organizations or entities or the trust of society is broken, the fact of repenting only partially saves dignity. The first thing is to appear in public, show your face, and verbally express your request for forgiveness, which in no way deprives you of complying with consequences such as dismissal, resignation, prosecution and possible convictions. Later, the contrite person or contrite if there are several, stand up and bow their torsos while lowering their heads as a sign of shame. There are levels of contrition, depending on the angle of inclination: light repentance, 25 degrees (esahku). Quite sorry: 45 degrees (keirei). Real or official repentance, 90 degrees (saikeirei). Maximum repentance (dogeza): kneel on the ground and tilt your torso forward leaning on your hands, until you practically touch the ground with your head. There is still one more degree: the extreme, but I totally discourage it. I am referring to the process of dogeza, topped off -how well brought the term ‘topped off’ here!- with a spectacular harakiri. Already on his knees, he takes a sword with both hands and sticks it into you at about navel height, making slight twists of the handle for a mortal destruction of death. Effective, it is. I’m sure whatever you did wrong won’t happen again. But it gets all bloody, it’s not very pleasant to watch – bubbling intestines can be released and scattered – and, although harakiri also has its ancient protocol, it leaves the deceased himself and the audience in a very bad shape.
The president of Iberdrola has apologized on Twitter for calling Inmi, me and some eleven million other people fools. But he has apologized to the Spanish woman: I’m very sorry, I was wrong… .., well, that stuff. He has not bent his spine even half a degree, he has not bent his knees to the ground, he has not begged for suspension of employment and salary. Man, taking into account that last year he pocketed more than a million euros a month, resignation does not enter into his concept of life. Neither for calling us fools between laughs, nor for having some little problem with his management at the head of the company, nor for not having found out that Commissioner Villarejo was being paid for sewer espionage.
Sánchez Galán had a silly day on Thursday. But you know: there are silly and silly days every day. The worst is when you realize that the still president and CEO of Iberdrola, that great comic monologist who called us fools, was holy right. We are a country of fools with hoods who have made him a billionaire and a billionaire to his troop of light, even though they lack lights. Fools of bean we are.