In Japan, a man makes a living by just showing up and doing nothing

Before leaving Tokyo for her new job, Akari Shirai wanted to eat at the favorite restaurant she used to visit with her then-husband.

There was one issue;

She didn't want to be overwhelmed with thoughts about her divorce by going it alone.

But she didn't feel like calling a friend and explaining the situation either.

So I hired the "Japanese guy who does nothing".

Their semi-silent lunch lasted about 45 minutes.

Shirai ordered her favorite dish and asked questions intermittently.

She shared her wedding memories with him and showed him a picture from the wedding.

He nodded and responded with short answers, sometimes with a dry laugh, and never initiated the conversation.

And that was exactly what Shirai wanted.

"I felt like I was with someone, but at the same time I felt I wasn't, because he was there in a way that I didn't have to pay attention to his needs or think about him," said Shirai, 27.

"I didn't feel any embarrassment or pressure to talk to him. This was probably the first time I ate in complete silence," she added.

Shoji Morimoto has attracted global attention through his widely spread social media posts (networking sites)

The Japanese man who does nothing

For years, there have been home businesses in Japan and South Korea that hire strangers to impersonate friends, family members, or other acquaintances, as a way to save face at social functions where additional people are expected.

In a report published by the American newspaper "Washingtonpost", writers Michelle Yi He Lee and Julia Mio Inuma dealt with the story of a Japanese man who is hired to appear at an event, but does not do anything, but only appears.

Over the past four years, SHOJI MORIMOTO has built a community of fans by presenting himself as a haven who can simply be willing to do what he wants, freeing his clients from the social expectations of the stated and unspoken norms of Japanese society.

Morimoto, 38, nicknamed "The Tenant", was the inspiration for a TV series and 3 books, attracting global attention through his widely shared social media posts.

The spread of Morimoto's work

Morimoto charges 10,000 Japanese yen (about $85) per session and is often hired to accompany people who are at a crossroads in their lives and wish to rewrite traumatic memories or an uncomfortable moment of weakness that they would like to share with friends or family.

Morimoto will be right with you, indiscriminately, and out of your personal space, and his business is so widespread that a customer waits at the marathon finish line who wants to see a familiar face at the end of the race.

And people hire him to sit while they finish their thesis, because they might slack off working alone.

Hear health care workers describe the mental health toll of the pandemic.

A woman hired him to accompany her while she filed her divorce papers.

He once sat down with a client for a surgical consultation for hemorrhoids with loads of illustrations.

Someone hired him for a dramatic farewell as they boarded a high-speed train from Tokyo to Osaka, and he showed up and waved goodbye.

Morimoto often finds that his clients don't want to burden people close with their own needs.

"I think when people feel vulnerable or in their intimate moments, they become more sensitive to the people close to them, like how they will be perceived, what kind of actions they will take for them," he said, "so I think they just want to connect with a stranger without any restrictions." ".

Unlike other small-business rental workers, the outlook for Morimoto is slim.

It is, for now, providing the emotional support many people crave but may have difficulty finding, especially during the pandemic that has exacerbated feelings of isolation, said Yasushi Fujii, a professor of psychology at Messe University in Tokyo.

"In interacting with friends and other people, there are always unknown factors that can have an effect. But when you use the 'tenant', it is very easy to know what to expect and take full control of the situation," Fujii added.

A number of other "hire" people have humor styles such as the man who is hired to be medicated over meals and the self-obsessed "ugly" man who claims to boost others' self-esteem.

Morimoto, who grew up in Kansai, a region in southern Japan, found the job after being told in previous jobs that he did not have enough abilities and not enough initiative to succeed.

He now completes nearly 4,000 inquiries, has one to two clients a day, where before the pandemic it was 3 to 4. He says he earns enough to do his part in maintaining a double-income family and raising a son.

"I was often told that I wasn't doing well, or wasn't doing anything, so this became a knot for me. I decided to take advantage of that and turn it into a business," Morimoto said.

The lifestyle goes well with Morimoto, he is not very talkative, and he is very articulate even when he is not working.

He wears his distinctive blue hat and coat and a hollow look;

So customers can easily identify him, but he dresses up when the situation calls for him to be more formal.

Morimoto is reluctant to make many assumptions about why his business model has gained so much popularity.

He says he has learned not to judge others, and to empathize with people who may be going through deep personal challenges but don't show them.

"Even if people appear normal and well, they often have a past, shocking secrets, or impossible problems," he said.

"The people who come to me with crazy problems are usually not people who look like suffering... Everyone, even those who look fine, all have their own sets of problems and secrets."