He’d even inquired with Jin about that once. Everyone else used the nickname, so Suzui naturally found himself doing the same, yet he felt bad about it. So one time, when they were both working overtime, he asked, “Don’t you mind? I’m sorry, I feel bad about it. Like, it feels presumptuous for younger people to give you a nickname.”
Jin’s eyes bulged with surprise at the question. Then he broke into a gentle smile. “You were worried about that? That’s very kind of you, Suzui.”
“Uh, I mean…”
“I’m glad to have people call me by a nickname.”
“The section chief started it, right?”
“Yes.”
Jin’s white hairs were translucent silver beneath the fluorescent lights. Suzui recognized that color—it was the same as his dad’s hair had been the last time Suzui went home.
Oh, so he must be about Dad’s age. That led Suzui to another notion. What if my dad were getting chewed out by a younger boss at work? When Chief Sato goes off on Jin, does he think of his own father?
“The chief is a very good man. I’m grateful to him,” Jin said, entirely too easily. Suzui couldn’t help but stammer a “Wh-what?”
Jin smiled. “Are you surprised?” he asked, staring at Suzui.
Up close, it was easy to see that Jin’s features were very distinct. Heavy eyelids hung over his beak of a nose, which, combined with his tall, thin profile, gave the man a particular kind of dignity. It just didn’t feel right that he was someone else’s underling.
Suzui nodded awkwardly, and Jin continued. “I was brought on as a new hire, and I was sure my age would make certain things uncomfortable. Also, he asked me about the nickname before he told everyone. He said, ‘I was thinking of calling you Jin, do you mind?’”
“The section chief did that?”
Was Sato really the sort who paid attention to those little details? Suzui was skeptical, but Jin assured him, “Yes.” He claimed the chief was a “good man,” but it only convinced Suzui that Jin was a much better man.
“I think he’s creating an environment where I can fit in with the others.”
Suzui didn’t know much about Jin’s previous job. He didn’t offer a lot about himself, and Suzui took it as a sign not to inquire. Still, he had to wonder if Jin had previously been in a senior position. Perhaps as a manager. Maybe he was a talented worker who got unlucky during a round of layoffs.
While Jin was in the sales department now, Suzui had heard that his wage structure and health benefits were different from a standard employee’s. He didn’t go out on calls, either, mostly talking on the phone and managing schedules like an aide. If he had held a senior position at his old job, then it was remarkable that he could endure this menial drudgery.
Every time Chief Sato berated Jin, he used the same phrases. “How did you even handle the work at your last job? What have you been doing with your life?”
“Help me out here. How have you survived to this point?”
“I can’t stand hearing the way he talks. It’s like he’s tearing down Jin’s personality. What decade does he think we’re living in?”
It was workplace abuse. A picture-perfect example of worker harassment, the sort of thing anyone should be ashamed of. Suzui wanted to bemoan the company’s old-fashioned structure for enabling this. He felt miserable that it happened to be at his company.
“I get it,” Mutsumi said, lifting the tab on her can of tea. Suzui’s leg started bouncing restlessly. It was a habit of his when he was on edge, something he’d tried to fix many times without success.
“For one thing, what did he do to get chewed out so hard today? Did Jin screw up that badly?”
“I think he was only addressing some minor mistakes initially. But somehow, that got the section chief really worked up, and once he’s revved up, there’s no stopping him. By the latter half, Chief Sato was talking about a different topic entirely.”
“It really sucks. What if that were me?”
Fortunately, Suzui had never been picked on or lectured by the section chief. However, that was part of why it felt so bad. Jin was a target for Chief Sato, like he knew the man was in a weak position and couldn’t say no, and he used that opportunity to vent all his frustration.
“It seems like Jin’s work is no worse than anyone else’s. He’s not some total failure, is he?”
“No. If anything, he’s pretty good at his job. Remember how we shared the client list the section chief made last month? The one the department chief asked him to make?”
“Oh yeah.”
It was a list of carefully updated client information, well crafted and detailed, almost surprisingly so. Despite his youth, Chief Sato favored the analog—he was good at interacting with business clients but bad at the nuts and bolts of office work. His emails that went out to the section were in a format that made them difficult to read, with almost no line breaks. Suzui wondered if he was hunting and pecking at the keyboard with two fingers, too.
“Jin made that list.”
“Huh?”
“The section chief acts like it was him, but Jin did everything, working overtime to get it done. I watched Chief Sato while everyone praised the list, wondering if he’d admit the truth, but he never did.”
“What a small, petty man,” Suzui grumbled.
Mutsumi nodded, frowning. “He wasn’t always like that, though. I remember when the section chief fought back against the boss to protect coworkers. He used to hate corruption and was a generally reliable guy.”
“So he had the stones to talk back as a worker, but his attitude shifted into a horrible disaster when he became the boss.”
“You’re really bitter about this, Suzui,” Mutsumi remarked, chuckling. “You might be right, though. He got mad and defended me when we were the same rank.”
“Huh?”
“He argued that it didn’t make sense that I couldn’t be management, just because I had a period of maternity leave.”
“Oh…”
That reminded Suzui that Jin wasn’t the only one with a younger boss. It was the same for Mutsumi. She’d been working two years longer than Chief Sato.
She undid the barrette that collected her long, silky hair, placed her milk tea on the low table, and started to tie back her locks.
“But then,” she said, “we had a chance to talk recently, and he told me, ‘It’s hard for women because they have to get pregnant. It’s too bad for you, but that’s just a woman’s job, socially speaking. It’s just the way it is.’”
“That sounds like…”
Sexual harassment. Or maybe pregnancy harassment. Mutsumi lowered her eyes. The shadow that crossed her features made her look terribly sad.
“He claimed that it’s better to have at least one woman in upper management; it helps the company image to appear like it has some kind of gender balance. I remember he hoped Chief Osada from accounting would quit soon. Then I could move to accounting and be section chief there. ‘Maybe you should submit an application to transfer,’ he said. It’s almost like he didn’t want me in sales.”
“He’s a petty man, so he doesn’t want someone who can do everything better than him around,” Suzui remarked. It probably wasn’t the best thing to mention at work, but it was how he felt. He was heated. “I’ve heard partners trust Chief Sato, but that’s only because he has personal connections with people he’s known for years, right? He hasn’t built a relationship with any of the newer business contacts, and he doesn’t leave the office to go visit them. I know I probably shouldn’t say this, but all the contacts he’s tight with are older men with ancient ideas. His only skill is sucking up to more powerful guys like himself. You’re way better at staying on top of all the little things around the office.”
“I’m sorry, Suzui, I’m sorry. I got you all riled up,” Mutsumi apologized. She bowed, too, and it was obviously sincere, not just a formality. “I felt a bit sad, that’s all. Someone going from fighting the boss to being the boss and doing a one-eighty is just how it goes, isn’t it? Maybe that’s just life. The passage of time can be a cruel thing.”
“If I get married and have a baby, I’m definitely the type who will go and demand paternity leave. He’ll probably turn me down if he’s still my boss, though.”
“What?! That’s your plan, Suzui?”
“No. But it’s a potential option I could look forward to.” Suzui leaned his head back and groaned. “At the college classes and seminars, they told us those kinds of rights are guaranteed and commonsense. And I was stupid enough to believe it, until I actually got hired,” he spat.
Mutsumi gave him a weak smile. “This company’s so backward. And we bear some responsibility for not improving things before the next generation came along. I’m sorry for that.”
Mutsumi and Jin—who was probably still being lectured on the sales floor—were just too nice. That was the problem. There were people out there who took advantage of kindness, and the unfairness made Suzui livid.
“I’ll get going now,” Mutsumi said casually. She picked up her tea and walked off, hair tied up. Her steps were light and breezy, and Suzui likened the gait to a survival tactic. Without it, maybe Mutsumi wouldn’t have made it this far.