The Last Grain

“Hmm... I guess I’ll give up.”
Once again, with a heavy heart, I closed the lid of the lacquerware box.

I occasionally have the opportunity to guide guests to our factory in Gotemba.
Guests from overseas.
Professors from our joint research partners.
Presidents of client companies.
Meetings and tours at the factory usually take about two hours.
Having lunch together before or after that has become my standard routine.

I take them to a certain eel restaurant.
It’s not exactly a famous Gotemba specialty.
However, it has a calm atmosphere, and its appearance, standing alone in the middle of a field, is beautiful.
The food is also served relatively quickly.
And above all, the guests are always pleased.

Of course, checking in advance is essential.
“Do you eat eel?”
If they don’t like it, I choose a different restaurant.
Fortunately, I have never once been told, “I don’t like eel.”

A little while after we take our seats, the lacquerware boxes are brought out.
The lid is heavy and solid.
The moment I open it, the guest’s expression changes.
“Oh!”
A whole eel and a half are lined up magnificently.
I love this moment.
The food itself starts the conversation for us.

The meal naturally becomes lively.
However, the problem is the final stage.
The eel is running low, and there is only a little rice left.
Moreover, the rice soaked in the most delicious sauce has been pushed into the four corners of the box.
Even if I try to pick it up with my chopsticks, I can’t get it properly.
One more bite.
No, half a bite.
This last grain is truly frustrating.

If I were eating alone, it would be simple.
I would just bring the box to my mouth and shovel it in.
I could savor every last grain.

But in front of a guest, that’s not possible.
I have a position as a president to maintain.
I am also the host.
Finishing the meal elegantly must be part of the important hospitality.

So, after struggling with my chopsticks until the end, I give up, thinking, “Oh, that’s enough.”
Then I quietly close the lid.
But every time I do, I think: isn’t that rice left in the corner actually the most delicious part?

There are similar things in life.
There are things I really want to do with all my might.
There are times I really want to act more honestly.
But people have positions and roles.
Those positions hold my actions back just a little bit.

When I was young, I felt that was stifling.
But now, I think that’s not so bad either.
Being able to show a little restraint in front of others must be what it means to be an adult.
Even so...
If I came to this restaurant alone, I think I would surely eat every last grain without hesitation.

That rice soaked in sauce is quietly waiting for me again today...