THE GIRLS AT THE PUB ARE GREAT. THEY’RE CUTE AND LIVELY.
THERE’S ONE GUY WHO WORKS HARD BUT IS SLOW.
I WANT A CLEARER DISTINCTION BETWEEN THE SMOKING AND NONSMOKING SECTIONS.
IT’S A PUB CHAIN, SO THE FOOD QUALITY VARIES, AND IT’S PRETTY GOOD HERE.
ONE OF THE STAFF IS GLOOMY AND A PARTY POOPER.
Oh.
The blood drained from Masamichi’s face.
The manager grabbed the sheet from Masamichi and read it out loud.
“‘There’s one guy who works hard but is slow’…a ‘gloomy party pooper.’ Hey, Masamichi? I asked our staff who they thought this was; everyone said it was you. You can figure it out yourself, can’t you?”
Masamichi nodded and hung his head, unable to speak.
He knew what he was like.
He had been an introverted child.
Being a weak only child had made his parents protective, and they hadn’t let him play outside often.
Because he hadn’t had much contact with kids his age, he was shy and withdrawn when he entered kindergarten and had trouble being assertive and approaching others. A foundation had been created for the person Masamichi Adachi was today.
He was always a target for teasing and mockery from his classmates, though he wasn’t seriously picked on, which may have been because his lack of response made it boring for them.
During his high school years, he had been nicknamed Air.
He’d had no friends and no one to fight with. He hadn’t participated in extracurricular activities, and his grades had been average, as was his appearance.
The other kids probably couldn’t come up with anything other than Air since he had been the very picture of a boy who was neither good nor bad.
When he left home and started living independently, he chose to work at this pub not only because of its favorable conditions but also because he wanted to change.
That was why he gathered up his courage and joined his fellow part-timers when they invited him to go to theme parks or out drinking, but he could never say anything witty or enjoy himself as the others had. In short, he was an outcast.
They eventually stopped inviting him, and he was off the other employee’s friends lists on social media.
He had trouble matching the excited energy of drunken customers. He could not engage in light conversation like the other employees, which set him apart even more.
Still, he believed that if he worked hard and helped customers with all his heart, then at least his sincerity would be conveyed. That’s why the harsh comments were shocking.
I had no idea the customers thought about me like that.
“Hey, you know they’re talking about you, right? Correct me if I’m wrong. Who’s this guy they’re talking about, huh?”
Grinning maliciously like a cat toying with a mouse, the manager leaned forward and looked into Masamichi’s face.
“…Yes, sir.”
“I can’t hear you!”
The manager shouted at Masamichi when he replied in a faint voice, and his entire body stiffened.
“You look like you’re on your way back from a funeral. This is why people complain that you’re glum and say your voice is too quiet. Tell me who this guy is that everyone’s complaining about!”
Feeling as if he was about to cry, Masamichi squeezed out his voice as best he could.
“Me…sir.”
“I can’t hear you!”
“Me!”
The manager looked at Masamichi with disdain.
“Don’t cry over something trivial like this. I’m the one who wants to cry. So okay, I know you work hard. But you’re also the one who spoils the fun, bright atmosphere here. You’re dragging us all down, and that isn’t good. That would impact sales, wouldn’t it?”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you think it would be better for our business if you left and we replaced you with a cute and lively girl? Wouldn’t that make the customers happy?”
“I…think so,” Masamichi acknowledged in a trembling voice. Then he raised his face a fraction and saw the manager frowning. “Does that mean I’m fired?”
“Huh? No way. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Huh?!”
The manager’s unexpected words brought a slight glimmer of hope to Masamichi’s puppylike eyes.
But the manager said matter-of-factly:
“For me to fire you, there are some tricky rules, like the need for a proper reason or a month’s warning, though it’s okay if you absolutely insist on being fired. But do you honestly think you could work here for another month like nothing’s happened? Do you want to keep dragging us down?”
“Uh…”
“It’s okay. That’s your right, and I respect that. We’re a legit company. I won’t ever fire you. It’s just that it would be nice if you would think about your fellow workers and, above all, what’s best for our customers, then decide what course you want to take.”
“Are you suggesting…that I…?”
“Hey, I’m not forcing you to do anything. I’m asking you to think hard about what you want to do. So what do you want to do? Huh? Tell me.”
Gone was the pushy tone the manager had been using for power harassment—now he spoke like a cat purring sweetly.
His assertion that he was neither firing nor intimidating him had Masamichi completely confused.
The manager continued speaking gently but persistently.
“I’m a busy man, too, so quick, give me your answer. What are you going to do?”
After saying that as if he was in a rush, the manager started mouthing the same phrase—over and over.
There was nowhere to escape.
All the energy left Masamichi when he realized that. The only thing he could do was verbalize what the manager was mouthing.
“I’d like to quit…as of today,” he said with a trembling voice.
“Oh yeah?! You’re still too quiet, but I just managed to hear you. Hey, it’s a shame. A real shame, but I respect your decision and won’t stop you. Good job.”
The manager’s bright tone told Masamichi how badly he had wanted Masamichi to quit and his joy that it finally happened. It was too much for Masamichi, and he felt the tears coming on.
Masamichi’s pride wouldn’t allow him to cry in front of the manager, so he bowed deeply and spun around on his heel without another word.
He opened the door and was about to leave when the manager’s peppy voice dealt another blow.
“Hey, don’t forget to hand in your uniform. And clean out your locker so you don’t leave any personal belongings behind. Don’t forget: Taking anything from the pub as a memento is stealing. You’re no longer one of us, and I won’t hesitate to call the police.”
It was too painful for Masamichi to nod in response to the heartless words, so he just quietly closed the door behind him…
He hadn’t ever imagined the day would come when trudge would so suit his heavy footsteps.
Masamichi walked along a dark, deserted street.
He had been riding his bicycle to work because his shift didn’t end until after the last train left.
Come to think of it, his bicycle had been stolen. That was the first bad omen.
He had been forced to walk to and from work, but those days were over.
“I thought I’d been doing well,” he lamented feebly.
He had managed to hold back after leaving the pub and passing the train station, an area that was lively late into the night, but as soon as he walked into the residential area, he finally burst into tears.
Masamichi’s eyes were like a broken faucet, and his cheeks were soaked. He grew tired of wiping his tears.
There were sure to be many stains on his jacket from the tears that dripped from his chin. He hadn’t cried so hard since elementary school.
The university rejected me, and now I’ve been fired from my part-time job… Oh, I mean, I was forced to quit.
Masamichi stuck a hand in his pocket.
He pulled out a thin office envelope. It contained a single bill—a thousand yen.
He had been in despair, changing at his locker after effectively being fired, when the manager came and slipped it into his pocket.
“I forgot. Here’s a parting gift. Masamichi, it’s a big loss for us when a highly qualified person like you leaves. We’ll miss you!”
Contrary to his words, he spoke rapidly and loudly so the staff members who were still around, preparing items for the next day, would hear him.
He didn’t sound like he’d miss me at all. He sounded happy. I didn’t know some people would be that happy to have me gone.
Now that he was jobless, even a thousand-yen note was needed to make ends meet, and he didn’t have the nerve to throw it back in the manager’s face anyway.
A longtime employee had approached him after the manager left, looking awkward as he said, “Sorry. Manager’s orders,” and checked Masamichi’s bag to ensure he hadn’t stolen anything.
Despite the humiliation, Masamichi said, “Thank you,” feeling miserable and hating himself. All he could do was squeeze the envelope in his pocket.
The university doesn’t want me, and that pub doesn’t want me, either. Many staffers were still there, but no one even bothered saying good-bye, though they seemed to know I was fired.
Masamichi recalled the faces of his colleagues—or rather, former colleagues—glancing his way with guilty expressions, and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.
He’d never gotten close enough to any of them to call them friends. Still, he had worked with them for most days of the week for almost a year, exchanging greetings and talking about work.
Yet not one was sad to see him go, and none offered to keep in touch.
That cruel fact battered Masamichi mercilessly.
I know, I know. It’s all my fault. Everyone was nice to me, asking me to go out with them. I’m the one who couldn’t blend in. I didn’t know how to act so they’d like me. I should have at least pretended to enjoy myself, but I couldn’t even manage that much.
He vaguely recalled the long jump rope that his grade school homeroom teacher had made the whole class play with during recess. The current state of his relationship with people was similar to that experience.
It was a game where two kids held either end of a long rope and spun it as the other kids took turns joining the jump. It was a success if everyone in the class could jump in unison and a failure if someone got caught in the rope.
There wasn’t a penalty or anything when someone disrupted the game, but the other kids tended to give them a cold look for ruining their efforts.