Fiction: Salaryman, Part 2

“Hey Yoshida, want to go hack a dart?”

The loud voice and strong clap on his shoulder made Yumiko jump a year ago, but now he just nodded in assent. He knew the voice. Takeshi was a large man who grew up two hours out from Sapporo. He still spoke with a bit of an accent, only discernable when he was excited or tired. Right now, he was neither. They walked out into the grey hallway, and down the narrow stairs. There were a few people already smoking when they stepped into the courtyard.

The March air was brisk, but Yumiko much preferred that to sweating into his jacket. He reached in, and pulled out a pack of Mevius, just like his childhood shonen manga heroes. and Takeshi fished a pack of Winstons out of his own jacket. He took a long drag. Not that he was excited or tired. Takeshi was a work friend; they got along at work, but only spent time together under the auspices of the office or other colleagues. It was probably the only regular conversation he had on a daily basis, and was surprised that they still could find things to talk about. On the other hand, Takeshi loved baseball, and there was always something new and exciting happening in baseball. Enough to fill five minutes of conversation anyways. Yumiko took another drag, and stopped halfway as he realized he was done. He stubbed it out, tossed in it in the designated trash bin, and waited for Takeshi to finish as well. Smoke breaks were a highlight of his workday. He loved the fresh spring air.

Back at his desk, Yumiko checked his emails again. Nothing new. He had conducted the due diligence on a new company in addition to the routine approval of a few old vendors, and had another ten files to work on before the day ended. He checked the time. It was lunchtime. The Oriental Land Company headquarters had a cafeteria on the main floori, but it was sparingly used: interns and lower level employees were busy looking busy, middle management was busy being busy, and senior management was busy inspiring others to be busy. As a result, the lunchroom was entirely unused except for the corner with the lone microwave. As Yumiko expected, there was already a line for the microwave, six lunches long to be exact. Only the first two lunches were accompanied by people however, and the rest just stood on a table, neatly in line. Yumiko placed his in queue, and went back up to his desk. He’d come back down in five minutes.

“Hi Yumiko!”

The familiar voice still made Yumiko’s heart twitch a little, even after a year. It was Haruka Hahashi, who worked in sales on the opposite end of his floor. She was plain-looking, but made him feel something in this grey office.

“Hi Haruka, how are you!”

“Good, yourself?”

“Good!”

Today, she was wearing a cream-coloured blouse and a navy blazer. Yumiko hadn’t seen the jacket before, but it wasn’t like he was keeping track or anything.

“Is your jacket new?” asked Yumiko.

“Yes!” responded Haruka with a smile.

There was a bit of a pregnant pause as she looked at him expectantly, but Yumiko couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to say. He settled on asking if she had a work dinner last night. It was a safe bet because she always had a work dinner. The male-dominated sales team always invited her to dinners with clients and she always obliged. They talked a little more about work before Yumiko remembered that he had to heat up his lunch. He excused himself and went back down the narrow staircase.

As expected, his lunch was already at the front of the line when he arrived back downstairs. He didn’t know the person whose food was currently in the microwave, so they ignored each other and checked their phones. Most office workers in Tokyo left the office for lunch, and ate at a convenience store or a food court, quickly slurping up noodles or munching rice balls. Unfortunately for Yumiko and his colleagues, there was nothing around their office, so they had to bring food. Yumiko had a curry that he brought from a convenience store the night before. He heated it for a minute and twenty seconds as instructed by the sticker on its lid.

When he arrived back upstairs, Haruka was nowhere to be seen. Just as well. Even though he was a little sad, Yumiko could only take so much stress in his workday. He unlocked his computer and went back to reviewing files. There was work to be done.

The rest of the day passed without further social interaction. Haruka never came by his desk more than once a day, and Takeshi had other colleagues to smoke with. Yumiko remained in front of his screen, clicking away. In the afternoon, there was a little spot of sun that shone briefly across the office, but it got in the eyes of his colleagues and they soon drew the blinds. The office grew darker quickly after that, and before Yumiko knew it, it was half past six in the evening. This was always punctuated by the vice president of finance leaving the office, everyone bowing to him, and then the rest of the group trickling out by rank. It took another hour before the middle management finished leaving, their delays staggered by both attempts to not look like they were leaving as soon as possible, and genuine work left to complete. It was nearly eight when it was Yumiko’s turn to leave, and he walked out of the building with the same gait he entered: an ordinary walk for an ordinary salaryman.

He arrived at the train station shortly, and boarded the crowded trains, now filled with happy people returning from their day at Disney. More of them were wearing their fluffy hats: more were purchased and it was slightly chillier in the evening. He stood deep in the car, furthest from the doors so he would have more space. He took out his phone and checked the calendar. Twenty of the thirty-one days of March were already faded, marking days gone by. Today was the twenty-first of March, and that would make him twenty-eight, joining the faceless mass of people crammed onto the train at night. Today was his birthday.