Bad Coffee and the President's Mutterings

“Hey, doesn't it seem strange to pay money to be taught how to work?”

The president muttered this while sitting in the empty seat diagonally in front of me, sipping his coffee. It was raining that day, and he seemed to have time on his hands. When I looked up, our eyes met. I pretended to be deep in thought while looking away, and answered in my heart.

“With all due respect, I haven't been taught a single thing yet.”

About three months had passed since I joined a local creative company. During that time, the only things I had been given to do were answering the phone, making coffee, and cleaning.

To begin with, I was aspiring to be a copywriter. When I heard that the reason I was hired was because I was the most energetic among the applicants, I accepted that energy was also a talent. I was shocked at how low the salary was, but I decided to do my best, thinking of it as training.

However, day after day, it was just phones, coffee, and cleaning. It was an incredibly dirty office. It had built-in storage with a refreshing blue color against white walls, and calm blue-gray carpeting. It looked like a very stylish space. Despite that, all sorts of things were piled up in all sorts of places. There was caked-on mud and some unidentifiable sticky substance. On my first day, I was told to clean it up however I liked. Even though there wasn't even a decent broom.

When I opened the storage doors, they were designed to be organized. In short, people just left things out and never put them away. How many years' worth of stuff was this? While feeling bewildered, I spent my days sorting, throwing away, and putting things away.

In the morning, after the sales department people left, various people—some employees, some not—who seemed to have strong personalities would come and go. I served them coffee. No one spoke to me.

“That’s strange. I’m sure I bought good coffee beans.”

One day, the president muttered this again. It was a remark I couldn't just ignore. Every morning, I continued to lift heavy coffee pots until my upper arms grew strong, filling the other pot to the brim with coffee. Every time someone came in, I would reheat it and serve it. Because I was told to do so.

Is the coffee bad because of me?
My competitive spirit was finally ignited.
I will serve delicious coffee no matter what.

Around that time, my only respite was lunchtime. The master of the coffee shop I frequented was a friendly person, and we hit it off immediately. I told him about the president's mutterings and asked to become his apprentice. From that day on, I learned how to brew coffee at the end of my lunch break.

Now that I knew how to brew delicious coffee, I would find out each person's preferred taste. They were easy to understand because they all complained about it being too hot, too thin, or too strong. And so, I would brew a cup for each of them, one by one, whenever they wanted.

“Huh!?”
“This is good.”
“What happened?”
“Did you change something?”

The delicious coffee softened everyone's faces and hearts.
Conversations began with, “Um, what was your name again?”

When I asked, they told me that before I joined, many new hires had quit immediately, so they had decided not to get involved with anyone anymore. That’s terrible. But thank you for continuing to drink the bad coffee.

If you change yourself, those around you change too.

I'm glad I learned how to brew delicious coffee.
I'm amazing! That's what I thought.

But wait, the whole thing started with the president's mutterings.

A suspicion began to form in my mind. Could that have been some kind of hint? Perhaps it was the president's last resort.

"Hey, isn't it strange to pay money to be taught how to do a job?"

Think about it. Could it be that he meant I should go and get it myself?
Does it mean that if I just wait to be given things or taught, nothing will ever start?

I took a deep breath and spoke to the sales staff member in front of me.

"Please, let me do something too!"

"Perfect timing. Do this," they said, handing me a job to draw an illustrated map. Um, well, illustration...

"You're not very good at this, are you?"

I know, right? But ever since then, I started getting asked to help out here and there.
Come with us on sales calls. Come with us to the shoot. Go cover this story. Eventually, they even asked me to make paper cutouts for a poster.

"Paper cutouts, you say..."

I'll show them. I have no choice but to do it. Hmm. The director and designers, unable to just watch, started offering their advice and hands-on help.

And then, I was finally called into the president's office.

The president and the director were there. I was told to sit on the sofa, and I suddenly noticed the director holding a manuscript. It was the draft I had written. My stomach hurt. My heart wouldn't stop pounding.

I was told I was being assigned to the editorial department.

From the next day, a whirlwind of days began. I couldn't call myself a beginner anymore; a mountain of work was waiting for me. But now, the office is tidy.

"Don't leave things lying around!"

I had changed so much that I was even barking orders at the president.

It is you who must carve out your own path.
I learned that, just a little bit.

Many years have passed since then, and now I am an instructor at a vocational school.
The students each believe in their own individuality and carve out their own paths.
I believe in that power.