The Reason I Shed Tears at My 'Last Lunch' with a Senior I Disliked

Spring is a season of encounters and new beginnings.
Surely, many of you have just taken a step into a new world.
Holding both anxiety and expectations in your heart,
with a slightly nervous expression—.

Today, I have a story I want to share with you.
It is about an encounter with an 'unforgettable senior' from when I was a new graduate.

I joined the secretariat of a non-profit organization as a new graduate.

When I was a student, I aspired to be a journalist or work in the fashion industry.
However, one day just before I started job hunting,
my then-fiancé vehemently opposed it.

For him, with his rigid set of values, the 'katakana professions' I aspired to were simply unacceptable.
He had seemed supportive until then, but I learned for the first time that in his heart,
'I hope she gets tired of it someday'
was what he had been wishing for.

Instead of giving up, I became even more passionate and started attending a second school, so he must have thought, 'I have to hit her hard to make her understand.'

We talked many times, but we remained at a stalemate.
We could not compromise with each other.

If it were me now, I would choose to break up without hesitation.
But I was young back then, and I prioritized the 'faces of those around me' who would be saddened by the cancellation of our engagement over my own feelings.

'It doesn't have to be now.'
'Someday, he will surely understand.'
That was the only way I could convince myself,by 'pretending to believe in a future where he changes'.

My job hunting, having lost what I truly wanted to do, was naturally a struggle.
Every company looked the same, and there was nothing I wanted to do at any of them.
That is why my entry sheets remained blank and unfilled.

As my classmates received job offers from their dream companies one after another, I was completely lost.

A job posting I found when I felt desperate.
'Does a workplace like this really exist?'
I was intensely attracted by the surprisingly good benefits.
The working hours were short, so I thought I could have time to do what I liked.
I applied for that reason alone.

After joining the company, I learned that the competition rate had been very high.
There was no one else who had joined with the same mindset as me.
Even so, I was able to get in, probably because there were essay and language exams.
As someone who aspired to be a journalist, I was good at those things.

However, the interviewer said something unexpected to me.
'Your "interesting character" left an impression on us.'

Come to think of it, in the final interview where the executives were lined up, for some reason, I was analyzing a murder case that was a hot topic at the time.
That was what was evaluated as an 'interesting character'.

Because of that, I ended up working in a place where I didn't belong, without the 'passionate feelings' that other new graduates were nurturing in their hearts.

It was the mid-Heisei era.
However, the company culture was incredibly old-fashioned and stiff, as if it were still stuck in the Showa era.

My supervisor—my so-called "mentor"—was a veteran female employee in her early 30s.

Even though I had been told that "dress code is casual," I was reprimanded almost daily shortly after joining the company.
My clothes, my hairstyle, my makeup...

I had aimed for a career in the apparel industry, so I owned tons of clothes, but apparently, none of them were "office-appropriate."

"You should study what a normal office lady looks like."
"Stop wearing that bright red lipstick."
"Keep your nails clean. Black is absolutely out of the question."

Looking back now, what my senior said was perfectly reasonable.
But at the time, I just couldn't grasp what "normal" or "office-appropriate" meant.

Even now, I still believe that"individuality should be nurtured."There is no need for everyone to be the same.
I want to live in a society where a person's uniqueness is valued.

But at the same time, after some time had passed, I was able to understand the importance of "TPO" (Time, Place, Occasion) and "when in Rome, do as the Romans do."
Thinking about it now, my senior back then must have had endless worries.

Unaware of her feelings, I grew more and more annoyed with her every day.

In the workplace, there were countless strict rules, even for a single document.

For documents issued under the corporate name:
• Title in the center
• Affiliation and name on the far right
• Line spacing and fonts specified down to the millimeter
—everything was "predetermined."

If I skipped a step, thinking, "It's just a millimeter..."
a scolding from my senior would fly at me immediately.

Honestly, I thought to myself, "Isn't it fine as long as it's readable?"
But my senior never missed a single word or character.

I suspect that every time, I listened to her nagging
with a look that said, "Here we go again..."

Before long, complaining to my peers became a daily routine.
Compared to the mentors of any of my peers,
my senior was by far the most annoying.
"She's just so nitpicky! Every single day, she picks at every little detail. It's bullying..."

Honestly, I was fed up.

Three years after joining the company,
my marriage to my fiancé became concrete, and since I was expected to focus on my home life, I decided to resign.
The heavy workload was also one of the reasons.
The "leave on time" promise in the job posting was just an illusion.

By that time, she was no longer my mentor, but since we were in the same department, I still interacted with her occasionally.
However, I no longer felt irritated by every word as I had before, and before I knew it, I had learned to brush her off.

Even so, she remained someone I didn't particularly like.

One day, my senior invited me to lunch.
Deep down, I thought, 'What could we possibly have to talk about just the two of us?' but it was a fact that she had taken care of me.
'This is the last time, anyway.'
I accepted the invitation.

On the day, I was restless from the morning.
'Maybe I should have just declined.'
I was certain she would just line up complaints—that was the only premonition I had.

But I told myself, 'This is the last time. It's the last time, so just endure it,' and I headed out to lunch.

Come to think of it, this was the first time I had ever sat across from my senior to eat.
At meetings and business dinners, I was always sitting next to her.


Looking at my senior in front of me, I suddenly remembered something.

It happened when 'soft-shelled turtle' was served at a business dinner.
The moment I saw its grotesque appearance, I covered my mouth with my hand.
Even though everyone around me was chatting and laughing, I froze and couldn't move.

'Don't leave anything you've been served'
That was the guidance I had received from my senior about manners, but even though I understood it in my head, it was absolutely impossible for me.

At that moment, an 'empty bowl' was quietly slid over from under the table.
It was my senior.
'Now's your chance. Swap it with that bowl.'
She gave me a look that said exactly that.

I quietly swapped the bowls, and my senior calmly carried the turtle to her mouth.
As if it had been hers from the very beginning.

Back then, I never had any breathing room.
I had only ever interpreted my senior's words as 'reprimands'.
But in reality,I was always being helpedby her.
At that last lunch, I finally realized that.

My first and last lunch with my senior was completely different from what I had imagined.
It was a peaceful, warm, and somewhat nostalgic time.

On the way back to the office after finishing lunch.
For some reason, I was tearing up.

I suddenly felt lonely that the time with the senior I had found so annoying was about to end.

Suddenly, my senior stopped walking and looked at my face.

'...Asami, there's something I want to tell you.'

I braced myself, thinking she was going to scold me after all.
This is the end. I was prepared to accept whatever she said.

'...Asami, you didn't like me, did you?'

It was so spot-on that I could only nod.

My senior smiled as if she had known all along.

'Well, I thought I'd taken on something unbelievable.'
'You're good at your job, but you're too free-spirited. I never knew what you might do if I left you alone.'

I couldn't help but look down.

I worried every day about how to turn you into a professional.
You were nagged by an 'old hag' every single day. You did a great job.

Saying that, she peeked at my face.

Now, I can send you off with confidence, knowing that Asami can succeed anywhere.

At that moment, my tear ducts collapsed.
I couldn't hold it back, and I burst into tears.

Don't cry so much. You won't be able to work this afternoon.

Those words made my tears overflow even more.
Because there was love there.
That day, at that moment, I truly felt my senior's love.

My senior had always been pouring love into me.
I was the one who hadn't noticed and had closed my heart.

No matter what, my senior believed in my growth.
In exchange, she dared to play the villain.

Time has passed since then, and I have worked in several workplaces.
Wherever I go, my attention to detail and thoughtfulness are praised.
I believe that is because that senior built my foundation as a professional.

Now that I have subordinates and have experienced the position of training new graduates, I understand it well.
The difficulty of raising people.


And—
The higher your position, the fewer people there are to scold you.
In other words, the opportunities to 'notice' and 'improve' also decrease.

Once you mature as a professional, it becomes difficult to find opportunities for growth unless you maintain a conscious effort to notice things yourself.

...The person who gives you advice out of concern for your growth might be someone you find a bit difficult to deal with right now.

But the day may come when that person's words support you.
Just as it did for me.
Someone's feelings will quietly remain within you,
and eventually, somewhere in your life, they will be remembered warmly—that day will surely come.

May you have wonderful encounters.
And may you yourself one day become 'that senior' to someone else.

May the baton named 'small affection' be passed on quietly and surely.