Common occurrences when a veteran retires, following the end of 'Akko ni Omakase!' → Manuals? That's all in my head. The brutal dumping of responsibilities onto Katsumata-san (the successor candidate)

When you replace the end of 'Akko ni Omakase!' with 'a veteran retiring from the workplace,' the terrifyingly common occurrences really stand out. The moment a 'black box without specifications,' built up over 40 years, is dismantled.

1. The 'Manual? That's all in my head' problem

True to the title 'Akko ni Omakase!' (Leave it to Akko!), the entire process ran on Akko-san's internal engine, so when it comes time to hand it over, there is so much 'tacit knowledge' that no one can put into words that the manual doesn't even get past page one.

2. The whereabouts of the mysterious 'fingerprint authentication' and 'physical keys'

The theory that the 'bell' and 'panel stick' that Akko-san touched every day were actually physical switches linked to the station's core system. Once she is gone, no one can unlock the server room.

3. 'The brutal dumping of responsibilities onto Katsumata-san (the successor candidate)'

The despair of a mid-level employee who has spent years by the veteran's side, perfecting only the skill of nodding along with 'Yes!' and 'That's right!', only to be told the day after the retirement, 'So, you're in charge of everything starting tomorrow,' and being forced to take on an impossible task.

4. The 'locked locker (dressing room)' that no one touches

From shelves that haven't been organized in 40 years, a massive amount of business cards from long-gone predecessors and Beta videotapes for which no playback equipment exists are unearthed, turning the cleanup into an archaeological endeavor.

5. The disappearance of the magic of 'If that person says it, it gets done'

Even unreasonable demands would pass instantly if the veteran said, 'Just do it!' The moment they retire, if the remaining young staff say the same thing, they are met with a barrage of attacks like, 'What's the evidence?' or 'Is this compliant?'

6. The exposure of mysterious 'special rules'

It turns out that 'veteran-only rituals' with zero rationality, such as 'the system won't work unless you prepare a specific brand of confectionary every Sunday at noon,' were actually supporting the operations, and the young staff who tried to rationalize them end up in a panic.

7. The severance of 'nomunication' (drinking communication) with business partners (the entertainment industry)

Believing the veteran's words that 'I'm on good terms with that company's president,' you go to pay your respects upon their retirement, only to be coldly treated with, 'Oh, if it's not an introduction from Akko-san, we'll be charging our standard rates (the same terms as other companies).'

8. The real withdrawal after the 'I'm quitting, I'm quitting' scam

Because they said 'I'm quitting' every year, no one took it seriously, but when they actually start clearing out their desk, everyone around them suddenly turns pale, thinking, 'Wait, are they really leaving? (What do we do now?)'

9. The theory that 'they actually weren't doing much work' revealed at the end

You thought, 'Things won't run without that person,' but once they are gone, all the meetings and groundwork spent just to keep the veteran in a good mood become unnecessary, and the work proceeds surprisingly smoothly—a bittersweet realization.

10. The runaway 'legendary residual fire' macro

The 'Excel macro (program structure template)' that a veteran built by trial and error 20 years ago, which no one can read, automatically executes in the empty office at noon on the Sunday after they are gone.

'Veteran resignation panic' is a universal fear that can happen in any organization.

[Emergency Simulation] What if my department manager was 'Akko-san'? ~The day 40 years of 'Omakase' melts away~

'Leave it to me!'

I want to punch my younger self who said that so spiritedly when I was a new employee.

In our company, there was a department manager who manipulated a 'spell' that no one could solve for 40 years. Known as Manager Akko. A legend whose presence, not just her height, was enough to warp the office building.

However, that day finally came. The manager's retirement.

'The rest is up to you all.'

With those words, our peaceful 'Omakase life' began to collapse with a loud crash.

The '3 strange phenomena' that occurred on-site

1. The disappearance of the 'No evidence needed' theory

When Manager Akko was around, we didn't need data for project proposals. If the manager said, 'Isn't this good?', the reluctant executives would stamp their seals, saying, 'If Akko-san says so...'

But look at this. The day after the manager left, when I submitted the same proposal, my boss coldly stated:

'So, what is the evidence for the KPI and market superiority of this?'

...We realized for the first time that we had been working based on 'presence' rather than logic.

2. The runaway of the 'secret macro' that no one can read

The 'sales management macro' left on the manager's PC, which was said to have been self-made 20 years ago.

That file, which no one can read the code for, somehow starts up on its own every Sunday at noon and sends the lyrics of 'Ano Kane wo Narasu no wa Anata' to all employees at once.

The IT department representative turned pale and said, 'If you delete this, the entire core system will go down. It cannot be rewritten without the department manager's fingerprint.'

3. The lonely battle of 'Section Chief Katsumata'

The biggest victim is Section Chief Katsumata, who for 40 years stood by the manager's side, embodying the pinnacle of sycophancy by saying, 'You're amazing!' and 'I'm learning so much!'

The moment the manager left, he was expected to be the 'manager's replacement.' However, all that was passed down to him was the 'know-how on how not to upset the manager,' and the essential 'how to run the work' was not passed on even by a millimeter.

Now, he stands in front of a stark white whiteboard, trembling in his shorts.

What we have lost is not a 'boss,' but 'order'

What this simulation reveals is the 'self-indulgence in the name of personalization' that is deeply rooted in Japanese organizations.

We have dumped our work onto the intense personalities of veterans and deceived ourselves by calling it 'trust.'

What remained in the office after the 'black box' known as Manager Akko disappeared was the sight of us—unable to stand on our own, having neglected to create manuals, stopped thinking, and simply waiting for 'that bell' (the signal).

Three questions for the reader

1. In your company, who is the person whose absence alone would effectively bring operations to a halt?

2. Are there any tasks that no one understands the mechanism for, simply because 'it's been the custom for a long time'?

3. If your 'Manager Akko' were to disappear tomorrow, could you stand on your own two feet?

EC business and online shop operations may look modern and systematized at first glance, but in reality, they are often maintained by the wild intuition of a 'veteran (store manager) who has run the shop alone for many years' and settings that are like a secret sauce that has been topped up over time.

1. The intuition of the 'God of Advertising' is lost

Even with the spread of automated bidding by AI, that veteran was generating CVR (conversion rates) with a mysterious intuition, saying, 'It's raining today, so change this banner to that one.' After they retire, the result of relying entirely on AI based on numerical data is that sales are cut in half.

2. The labyrinth of 'Rakuten's Den' RMS settings

Deep within the management screens of Rakuten or Yahoo! Shopping, 'mysterious point multipliers' or 'hidden coupons' set over 10 years ago are buried, and they activate the moment the person who retired is gone. Unintended, massive deficit sales are held automatically.

3. The 'black-boxing' of CSV macros

The Excel macro used to import data into order management software has become an indecipherable 'out-of-place artifact' after years of 'VBA patchwork' by a veteran. When an error occurs, the only person who could fix it has vanished from the face of the earth.

4. The disappearance of 'god-speed' and 'god-tier' packing skills

The transmission of puzzle-like skills—such as 'if you fold this box this way, you can secure this product without cushioning'—is lost, causing packaging material costs to skyrocket and delivery delays to occur from the day after the resignation.

5. Tacit knowledge known as 'secret agreements with suppliers'

The supplier cost based on human relationships—not found in any contract—where 'if you tell that manufacturer over the phone that this month is a bit tough, they'll lower the wholesale price by 5%'—reverts to the standard price upon the veteran's resignation.

6. 'Unique lighting' for product photography

The 'mysterious lighting unique to the veteran' that somehow produces better photos than a smartphone, despite using 10-year-old equipment. The successor is cursed to only take 'photos that don't sell,' even when using the latest iPhone.

7. 'Legendary god-tier complaint handling' in customer service

The veteran who somehow managed to tame a specific persistent complainer from 10 years ago. The moment they resign, the complainer goes on a rampage, shouting 'Where did you put my representative?!', causing customer support to collapse.

8. Product pages built with 'HTML 1.0'

The 'LP (landing page) with a Showa-era vibe' that somehow keeps selling, even though it should break when viewed on the latest smartphones. The moment it is clumsily renewed into a trendy, stylish page, regular customers leave, complaining they 'don't know where the buttons are.'

9. 'Personal account linking' for domains and servers

Management authority for domains and critical tools that should belong to the company is actually linked to the resigned employee's 'personal Google account' or a 'provider email' that no longer exists, making it impossible to reset passwords after they leave.

10. The collapse of 'Warehouse Tetris'

Inventory that should be in 'A-1' according to the management system is actually operated based on the veteran's mental mapping—'I shoved it in the gap behind B because it wouldn't fit'—turning the warehouse into a treasure hunt game after they resign.

🧠 Structural analysis of the 'EC version of resignation panic'

• STEP 1: Organizational renewal through generational change.

• STEP 2: The paradox that in the 'digital battlefield' of e-commerce, 'analog memories' and 'person-dependent negotiations' were actually the infrastructure (foundation).

• STEP 3: Was this veteran a 'hindrance to progress,' or were they the 'last guardian' who maintained the shop on a low budget?