Posts Tagged ‘New Years cards’

Don’t throw those boring New Years cards away!

Monday, December 16th, 2013

Betting on the horse: Japan Post presents its New Years postcard selection on its home page.

Betting on the horse: Japan Post presents its New Years postcard selection on its home page.

As promised two posts ago, we’re now going to explain the prizes attached to New Years cards. We pointed out in that article that the custom of sending nengajo (New Years greetings) or nenga-hagaki (New Years postcards) has been declining in recent years, a development that concerns JP because it’s always derived a good part of its revenue from the custom. Last year, JP sold 3.27 billion cards, which sounds like a lot, but represents a 20 percent drop since sales peaked in 1999.

Many years ago they started a lottery contest. Each card has a number printed on it, and sometime in the middle of January, JP conducts a drawing for winning numbers. However, the people who buy the cards and send them are not the same people who receive them and thus have the chance to win prizes, so the lottery incentive for buying cards escapes us, unless you assume that the more cards you send the more you are likely to receive, but that sort of cause-and-effect logic wouldn’t actually kick in until the following year, right?

According to NHK, the idea of combining nengajo with a lottery started in 1949, when the price of a postcard was ¥2 yen. In the years right after the war, the exchange of nenga-hagaki took on special meaning, since it was a good way to inform friends and relatives that you were still alive and where you were. The lottery, which is called otoshidama, the term for New Years gifts of cash given to children, made it even more appealing, because so many people had nothing at the time, so the prizes were for the most part practical: sewing machines, skeins of wool, bolts of fabric. As Japanese society became more affluent, the prizes became more aspirational: TV sets and other high-end home appliances, or coupons for international or domestic travel.

In the Jan. 6, 2010 issue of the weekly magazine Bunshun there is an article about the prizes. That year the grand prize was a 32-inch high-definition flat screen TV. The article goes on to explain the keihin hyoji-ho, or “incentive indication law,” which states that a company which offers prizes as an incentive to boost sales cannot offer prizes whose value is more than 20 times the price of the merchandise or service that is sold, so, theoretically, if a postcard costs ¥50, then the most you could win is something worth ¥1,000. But, in fact, JP got a special dispensation, since a different law was passed specifically for nengajo, and that law says you can offer prices worth up to 5,000 times the price of the lottery ticket.

Another condition of the special law is that if the card is received by a company rather than an individual, and that card is a winner, the person who claims the prize must present proof that he or she is an employee of the company. Another condition is that the prizes must be claimed within six months of the drawing (it’s up to one year for conventional Takarakuji lotteries, which are sold as lottery tickets so the incentive law doesn’t apply).

However, there’s another difference between Takarakuji and nengajo lotteries that’s more fundamental to this discussion. Takarakuji publicizes the rate of winning numbers that are claimed, but JP doesn’t. Bunshun interviewed an expert who conjectures that Takarakuji prizes are cash, while JP prizes are goods. If all the cash available for prizes isn’t won in a given year, Takarakuji just keeps the money and adds it to next year’s jackpot, but what can JP do with unclaimed goods? People aren’t going to be interested in last year’s model TV, and the lesser prizes, like travel coupons, usually come with a time period in which they have to be redeemed. Another prize is sheets of stamps, which are deemed legal tender, but for some reason they are destroyed if not won in the lottery.

The impression one gets from the article is that a fair number of nengajo prizes are not claimed every year, mainly because people don’t really care, and one reason they don’t care is that it’s inconvenient. In order to check the numbers, the receiver has to read the right newspaper on the right day or go to the nearest post office, and most people can’t be bothered. Now, of course, JP publicizes the winning numbers on the Internet, but even that may not be enough, so this year instead of prizes, JP is offering cash, thus making it more like otoshidama.

It’s not a lot of cash, though. The top prize is only ¥10,000. The incentive is that the odds are more in the public’s favor. In the past, when the top prize was an expensive appliance, the odds of winning were one in a million. But this year there are 33,936 first prize winning cards, which means the odds of getting one is one in 100,000. There are also 339,365 furusato prizes (“home town” prizes, meaning products associated with specific regions in Japan), so the odds of winning one of those is one in 10,000. And the other prize is, again, sheets of stamps. The odds of winning those is one in fifty.

JP will announce the winning numbers on Jan. 19.

Postal employees carry extra burden during the holiday season

Thursday, December 5th, 2013

Until around 2000, the custom of sending nengajo, or New Years greetings, to friends, family and business associates was widespread in Japan, but since then it has become less so. According to Japan Post, mail carriers delivered 3.7 billion New Years cards in 1999. That number dropped to 2.6 billion in 2012. More significantly for JP, which is in the process of being privatized, the organization sold 4.2 billion cards in 1999 and 3.3 billion in 2012.

Hard sell: New Years postcard display in Kyobashi post office

Hard sell: New Years postcard display in Kyobashi post office

The 22 percent drop in sales shows how much business JP has lost over the last 13 years, since nengajo account for 10 percent of JP’s total postal-related business. In fact, JP depends on sales of New Years cards to make up for the loss in other areas. But look at that other statistic, the one showing how many cards were actually sold, and a question has to arise in your mind: Why is there such a huge gap between the number of nengajo sold and the number delivered? What happened to the 700 million cards that were sold but not delivered in 2012?

It’s a question Asahi Shimbun attempted to answer in a recent article about the practice known as jibaku eigyo (suicide bomber sales), which many employees of Japan Post resort to at this time of year. One of the reasons sales of New Years postcards (nenga-hagaki) is so high is that almost all employees of the postal service sell them. They have quotas, and while there are no written stipulations that require employees to meet their numbers, it’s tacitly understood that their future in the company is jeopardized if they don’t.

Many employees sell cards they can’t otherwise sell to kinken resellers, those storefront operations that buy things like railway tickets and store coupons and then resell them at prices slightly below their face value.

For years postal employees have dumped their remaining postcards at kinken shops rather than return them to their supervisors. And since they receive less than the ¥50 face value for each card, the employees lose money, because they don’t earn commissions from the cards. They have to return to JP ¥50 for each card they sell.

JP frowns on the practice, not because it’s illegal, but because it looks bad, especially since JP plans to become a listed company sometime in the near future. A public relations person told the Asahi that the company is “aware” that many employees sell their unsold postcards to resellers, as well as through Internet auction sites, and have deemed such practices “improper.”

This year they plan to crack down on these practices, which shouldn’t be too hard. Every nenga-hagaki has a lottery number printed on it. After New Years JP conducts a drawing and people who have received postcards with winning numbers can redeem them for prizes (a custom that will be covered in a future Yen for Living post). All a supervisor has to do is record the lot numbers of the postcards he or she assigns to an employee. If any of those cards end up in kinken shops, JP will know who sold them.

Some employees end up spending even more money trying to confound this countermeasure. Asahi talked to one non-regular mail carrier from Central Japan who traveled all the way to Tokyo with more than 3,000 cards to sell them to a kinken shop in the capital, because he thinks the chances of him getting caught will be less. Also, kinken shops in Tokyo pay more for nenga-hagaki than shops in the Chubu region. Still, even after he sells them he stands to lose ¥40,000 on the deal, and that doesn’t even count the cost of his train ticket. A Nagasaki-based employee sent 4,000 cards via express package delivery to a kinken shop in Hokkaido, thinking it was far enough away to be safe.

The size of the quota depends on the job description of the worker: Quotas are higher for regular employees than they are for non-regular and part-time employees, but since non-regular salaries are so much lower than those of regulars, the burden may be greater. Since they are employed on a semi-annual contract basis, many non-regulars believe that their contracts won’t be renewed if they fail to meet their quotas.

Supervisors have higher quotas than their subordinates, but supervisors are usually older employees who already have a solid base of established customers, which are mostly friends and relatives anyway. Also, supervisors have time to carry out sales activities in front of their offices or in public places during normal work hours. Mail carriers are always making deliveries, so they have to sell their cards on their own time. Some quotas seem ridiculously difficult to fulfill.

According to an internal document that Asahi got ahold of, each regular mail carrier in Saitama City is required to sell 7,000 cards a season, which starts on Nov. 1 with a media blitz. The section chief in a Western Japan branch has to sell 13,500. For non-regulars, the burden is anywhere from 1,000 to 5,000 cards, usually depending on their respective branches’ sales figures in the past. Employees told Asahi of how they were browbeaten by supervisors to sell more cards, with one saying that he was accused by his boss of “robbing JP” because he hadn’t sold enough. Japan Post has said that employees should report supervisors who exert “unfair pressure” on them to sell cards, but it seems no one has done so.

Some quit, while many others simply dump the unsold cards in their closets and absorb the loss, which is why the holidays are anything but happy for postal employees. In any case, nobody the Asahi talked to said they sold all of their cards. When the reporter asked an officer of one of the labor unions that represent postal workers if the union isn’t doing anything to counteract the quota system, he replied somewhat bizarrely that JP has to maintain sales in order to survive.

Though sales quotas have always been part of postal employees’ jobs, they used to be fairly low and manageable. But since JP’s privatization bid the quotas have skyrocketed, mainly because people aren’t sending as many cards as they used to.

In a survey conducted by Internet news service J-cast, only 58 percent of respondents said they planned to send out nengajo this year, with 19 percent saying they would send more than a hundred cards, 22 percent sending out 50-100 cards, and 36 percent sending out less than 50. Twenty percent said they had no plans to send cards at all this year.

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