A reflection on solitude, sincerity, and the quiet joy of seeing effort turn into treasure.
On the day the yearly booklet was finally completed and delivered,
I went to the bar lounge at Hyatt Centric Ginza Tokyo and quietly raised a glass alone.
In the past, it had been a day to celebrate with many people. But this time, I was by myself.
Out of consideration for a colleague who worked only from home, along with other reasons, tasks that originally weren’t mine had gradually piled on, pushing me to the very edge.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that I alone carried the responsibility for the completion of that project.
I had done my best to help others at work, but sadly, what came back was not always kindness. At times, I even felt as if the favors I had given were returned with betrayal.
Of course, not everything was negative—but I came to realize that people were not always as sincere as I had believed.
I had been keeping a quiet dream for myself: to leave the company earlier than most people do and pursue what I truly wanted to do in life.
My original plan was to follow that path at a later time, but the growing burden of work made me decide to take it a year earlier than I had planned.
Still, I resolved to leave only after completing the final yearly publication in my charge.
Even if no colleagues stood beside me to celebrate, I still lifted my glass:
“You did well. Even in solitude, you worked with sincerity, precision, and care to create something of genuine quality.”
Whether or not anyone understood, I could at least tell myself: — Heaven knows. Earth knows. I know. —
That was November 1, 2023.
The following year, on November 1, 2024—almost a year after leaving the company—I once again raised a glass, this time at a local wine bar, with that same booklet beside me on the counter.
That booklet, though labor-intensive, had been beloved by both clients and colleagues, who relied on it for marketing. Yet I also knew that the management had considered ending it.
Recently, however, I learned something surprising: the task had been transferred to another department, and the publication was still alive.
“…So it continues.”
Relief gently settled over me. The sheets and manuals I had prepared with care, together with detailed notes for my successor, had indeed been worth the effort.
The booklet remained something irreplaceable—not only for the company, but surely also for the client.
Yes, there were days when I waited for promised contacts that never came.
But even so, I can finally say with confidence: devoting myself sincerely to the people and the work was not a mistake. It was, in fact, part of my dignity.
As for November 1, 2025, I think I will gently observe All Saints’ Day somewhere.
Even after leaving the company, I kept walking, hurt and troubled at times. But now, at last, I feel a quiet calm returning to me. Reflecting back, those five years I spent wholeheartedly creating the booklet have become a treasure in my life.
So if you too are out there, working hard alone, I hope you will raise a glass to yourself.
Even if no one else stands beside you, your sincerity and effort will always remain a treasure.
