Professional

A typical day off.

After waking up a bit late and having breakfast, I turned on the TV without much thought and found NHK's Nodojiman (Amateur Singing Contest) playing.
This program, which I found boring as a child, has become interesting to me for a certain reason.

"The host of this show is amazing."

It's a live broadcast, and the performers are amateurs.
On top of that, the start and end times are strictly set, and they have to adjust the length of the songs, talk, and result announcements all within the allotted time, bringing the program to a close at the perfect moment.

The pacing cannot be too fast or too slow.
The fact that they keep this up every week is nothing short of astonishing.

Some performers are long-winded, while others are quiet; they are all different.
The host offers a thoughtful response to each one and connects them to the next performer.

"Your family is here in the audience today, aren't they? Please, say a word to them!"

This standard exchange is also indispensable to the program.

I always feel nervous when the final guest finishes their song. In the remaining two minutes, they have to rush through introducing the winners, announcing the results, and interviewing the champion.

The host shows no sign of panic (though perhaps they are anxious on the inside) and carries it out perfectly with a beaming smile, leading the program to its conclusion.
It is truly a masterstroke.

Watching Nodojiman reminded me of an experience I had at a restaurant I stumbled upon while walking with a friend the other day.

After receiving water and looking at the menu, I raised my head to call a staff member and immediately made eye contact with a young server who was far away. While waiting for our food after ordering, my friend and I got so caught up in our conversation that we became completely absorbed in it.

A common occurrence in such moments is for a server to bring the food, inevitably interrupting the conversation.
That situation where you are momentarily startled.

However, it was different that time.
Just as our conversation reached a natural lull, that same server brought our food.
Without ever stopping the flow of our conversation, and in a very natural manner,

"Please, enjoy."

They said that smartly and left for the back.
Even when we placed additional orders later, I always made eye contact with that server, and they came over to us immediately.

That server likely makes a conscious effort to provide service with the perfect "timing" for the customer every day. Because they make eye contact at the right time and bring the food at the right time, it is an incredibly pleasant experience for us as customers.

Customer service, the atmosphere of the shop, and the quality of the food.
These three are said to be the essential elements for a good restaurant, with none being dispensable.

This shop had all of them, and I later learned that it was a famous and popular spot in that area.

Now, whether it's the host of Nodojiman or that server at the restaurant, why are they able to act with such "exquisite timing"? I thought about it in my own way.

Of course, they probably don't possess some special talent that would make them a genius. It doesn't seem like something they can do simply because they are used to it from experience.

What they both have in common is likely a sincere desire to genuinely please the other person (the viewers in front of the TV, the performers, or the customers who come to the shop), isn't it?

Within a limited amount of time, they convey the performers' songs and personalities to the viewers to the fullest extent, creating a high-quality program.

By providing pleasant service to the customers who come to the shop, they create a space where people ultimately feel, "I'm glad I came to this shop."

How many times in my career have I truly worked with the intention of making someone happy?
I was forced to realize my own immaturity.

Toward the end of the amateur singing contest, an 85-year-old grandfather who lost his wife five years ago appeared.

"Even if I didn't say 'follow me,' you followed me silently. When I was 20 and you were 19..."

The lively venue fell silent at the sound of his raspy voice, which seemed to evoke various scenes from a life where the couple had lived through both joys and sorrows together.

The words the grandfather said after the bell rang touched my heart.
"How did you feel while singing today?"
"I sang with all my might so that it would reach my wife in heaven."

The grandfather did not pass, but he was awarded a special prize. Seeing him hold the shield as carefully as if he were holding his own child, I felt I caught a glimpse of the life he and his wife had spent together in harmony, and I was moved to tears.

To truly care for someone.
"How warm."
That was what I thought on that early winter afternoon.