Nothing Could Convince Me to Stay
Here’s a nice description of a Tokyo job quit from Haruki Murakami’s latest novel, The City and its Uncertain Walls:
And then one morning I handed my boss a letter of resignation. I couldn’t go on doing this job. I had to remove my body and mind from the track I’d been on — even if I hadn’t found a new track to try.
My boss was surprised by my sudden request. Up until that moment, I’d given no indication that I was unhappy. He thought I’d been recruited by a rival company. I tried to explain as best I could. Not an easy thing to do, but somehow I did end up convincing him. His next gambit was speculating that I must be having some psychological issues — a breakdown or midlife crisis.
“If the work’s wearing you out, you should take some time off,” my boss said, calmly trying to convince me. “You have a lot of accrued paid vacation time, so why don’t you go to Bali or somewhere for a couple of weeks, let your hair down, recharge, then come back? And then you can think it over again?”
I had a pretty good relationship with my immediate boss, and I think he kind of liked me. So I felt bad telling him this. But nothing could convince me to stay. This was as clear to me as the first rays of morning light.
After a brief period of indolence (“I thought about nothing, and did nothing, just hanging out, alone, in my apartment”) our narrator takes a job in a small rural library. He reduces his expenses massively by leaving Tokyo and can therefore shoulder the reduction in income. He also sells off or gives away most of his possessions:
everything I had fit into a small moving van, and I felt, for the first time in ages, free.
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About Robert Wringham
Robert Wringham is the editor of New Escapologist. He also writes books and articles. Read more at wringham.co.uk
This reminds me of the author of “Goodbye, Things”, Fumio Sasaki, although I think he dumped his possessions first then the job. Reducing the physical then the mental clutter.
I sometimes look at studio flats (a form of non-geo-arbitrage if you like) and ask my single friends if they would ever move to a one if it meant escaping a job they hated or simply meant they could work less (factor’s bills notwithstanding) and either receive a straight no or a horrified reaction that I would even consider that as a viable option. I’m never sure if it’s the reduced space or the “what would people think” aspect that puts people off…
Hey Brian. If I were a single man, I’d absolutely gravitate to something like a studio flat. As it goes, my partner and I have a one-bedroom flat and we love it. It’s the choice of champions.