Entrance
Zaibatsu Building Entrance is located in The Suspicious-Looking Guy's Shady Past.
On first visit:
With the zaibatsu lobby card:
I swiped open the front door of Shiawase-Mitsuhama with the card I'd gotten from the yakuza courier, and strode in as though I owned the place -- right up to the elevators which, it turned out, were locked with a different type of access card. Hell. The yak-headed receptionist at the front desk was giving me the hairy eyeball (no pun intended) as I approached, so I favored her with my most charming smile. "Can you give me a guest access card?" I asked. "I'm here to see Mr. Chang." The only Mr. Chang I knew personally sold fried rice out of a plastic bucket, but it was a pretty common name.
"Uh-huh," she said, plainly not buying what I was selling. "Look pal, it's obvious you don't belong here. How's about you make things easy on yourself and leave on your own two feet, so I don't haveta call security to drag you?"
"Fine, fine," I muttered, slouching out with my hands in my pockets.
With the zaibatsu lobby card and wearing both novelty tattoo sleeves and a makeshift yakuza mask:
I swiped open the door to the Shiawase-Mitsuhama building and strolled in. The stupid mask I was wearing was hot as hell, but hopefully I only needed it to get past the receptionist. Many of the yak-heads were a bit near-sighted, and judging from the glasses she wore on a chain around her neck, she was one of them. I prayed she was near-sighted enough for my ridiculous disguise to pass. I stopped at the elevators and made a show of patting my pockets, then muttered the mildest curse I knew in Chinese and shuffled embarrassedly to the receptionist's desk. "Ni hao!" I said pleasantly. "To my great embarrassment, I appear to have forgotten my elevator card. Can you give me a temporary?" I took a step backward and bowed deeply as she squinted at me.
"Fine, fine," she said, tossing a card on the desk. "Here."
"Fei chang gan xie!" I said, grabbing the card and quickly turning away and heading for the elevators.
As the elevator door closed behind me, I removed the mask and took a deep breath of blessedly air-conditioned air. Hopefully, so long as I acted like I was supposed to be here and knew what I was doing, nobody else would give me grief about not being a yakuza.
The looks I got as I exited the elevator dashed that hope pretty quickly.
