The Question of Flexibility—Like a Willow Tree

*Since the perfect submission campaign ends today, this is an article I added to and polished from a draft I wrote around last October.

When I was job hunting for the first time as a new graduate, I also took the full-time employee exam for the company (a so-called human resources firm) that was helping me with my job search.
(I have always been interested in intangible things, so now that I think about it, I realize I was heading in that direction from my very first job search.)

I passed the document screening and moved on to the interview.
It was a venture-style company, so the interviewer was a man who had just become a manager and was actually not much older than me. He was a man who wore glasses and had a confident demeanor.

After I gave the usual answers for my motivation for applying and my self-promotion, I answered a few questions from the interviewer.
The interview ended relatively quickly, and after waiting for about 10 minutes, the results were out immediately.

I did not move on to the next stage.
The good thing about that company, as you would expect from an HR firm, is that they explain why they aren't hiring you.

They said my lack of flexibility (it seems I was a conviction-driven type even back then) did not fit their corporate culture, which adapted to free-flowing changes.

When researching companies, I always made sure to look at their corporate philosophy in addition to what kind of company they were and what kind of work they did.
It wouldn't work if the corporate philosophy didn't match my own values.
That company didn't have a corporate philosophy that could really be called one.

The two companies I worked for after that both had wonderful corporate philosophies, so looking back now, I think we just weren't a good match.

However, at the time, with no achievements or experience and truly no self-confidence, the keyword "lack of flexibility" continued to torment me for several years. I had an over-interpreted image that lack of flexibility meant being someone who couldn't adapt to society or work.

The person who broke that curse was my direct supervisor at my previous job, where I was first hired and nurtured.
It must have been about a year or a year and a half after I started working with that supervisor, when we were talking with a few colleagues, that they said this to me:

"I've been thinking about Nanashi no Gonbe lately,the surface of the ground might look a bit hard and inflexible at first glance, but the soil underneath is actually very soft. So, if a seed falls and sprouts, I think you're the type who can extend your roots deep and grow with incredible momentum.""

I was somehow very moved by my supervisor's words, and from then on, I stopped worrying so much about whether I had flexibility or not.
Once I realized that having convictions was also a strength, I stopped worrying about it even more.

I received many words from this supervisor that truly stayed with me. I was really lucky that he was the first supervisor of my career.


Last autumn, when I was talking at a cafe with someone I was casually dating through a marriage agency (Mr. B), I mentioned that I might be a conviction-driven type, and he said something like,
"But a core that is too hard seems like it would be tough when it breaks. If I may say so, even if it sounds rude."Rude? Not at all.

I clapped my hands in agreement, feeling convinced.
As I have written many times, the aftermath of my heartbreak with the guy I fell for in the spring was actually quite painful, and the hardest part was not being able to regain my motivation for work.
Because I had decided within myself to somehow keep up with the work I value, and in doing so, I had essentially given up on my passion for the job and broken it, I learned that something that has been broken cannot be restored overnight. Even if I tried my best, the motivation wouldn't come.
That's why I said then, and I feel it again now, that while it's fine to have a core of conviction, it would be ideal if that core were like a supple tree—like a willow—that keeps its roots firmly planted even when the wind blows or a flood comes, but whose branches bend without breaking.

I keep breaking, suffering, taking time to heal, and then repeating the cycle. Even when I think I've become a person with a little more flexibility, I get hurt at the fracture points if I let my guard down.
I want to have a slightly more supple heart.

*By the way, the top image was something I created using AI while going through trial and error later on.