“Excuse me,” began the private message on Twitter, “I may be engaging in a physical encounter today, so could you kindly remind me at 12 to trim my nails?” This peculiar request wasn’t directed towards a romantic partner, but rather towards Shoji Morimoto, a thirtysomething individual residing in Tokyo who has been offering himself for rent since 2018. His unique service involves accompanying clients, mainly through silent observation and shared meals. Is this considered work? He goes by the name “Rental Person Who Does Nothing.” This intriguing concept captivated the attention of media outlets both in Japan and abroad, ultimately inspiring a manga and a television series.
Morimoto has now authored a memoir which challenges traditional expectations. It is not a conventional memoir, as he merely responded to questions posed by “S,” who he clarifies is not a passionate supporter of Rental Person. In fact, the memoir focuses more on his professional persona rather than his personal life. Rather than a complete account, it serves as a compilation of the unique requests he received and chose to accept. Many of these requests are mesmerizingly mundane, such as receiving a cute pet photo and needing a simply enthusiastic response. Others seek solace after losing their job for the tenth time and wish to share a hamburger meal with him.
Morimoto serves various roles. He acts as an ergonomic tool for writers who struggle to complete assignments without supervision, and he motivates marathon runners to perform better by being present at the finish line. He also acts as a social companion for those who wish to enjoy the evening breeze and a drink in the park without feeling odd for doing so alone. His anonymity adds to his appeal, though sometimes it leads to unwelcome advances when he rejects offers for sexual encounters. In one instance, he received a message saying, “‘Get a job then, dickhead!’ I wasn’t too pleased about that.”
But what exactly is Morimoto doing? He firmly states that he does not provide life advice to his clients, as that would constitute “doing something,” which he believes is a categorical error. He rarely meets with clients more than once and prefers to remain involved in their lives without becoming directly implicated. He claims to be content with maintaining the most tenuous of connections. While some may categorize his work as “active listening” using today’s corporate jargon, Morimoto disagrees. He emphasizes that his listening is always passive, as he firmly believes he is not actively doing anything. At one point, he even points out the distinction between himself and a copyist named Do-anything-at-all, noting that the latter has seemingly given up, accepting day labor requests.
Although Morimoto initially presents himself as someone who lives without doing anything, he gradually emerges as a semi-accidental observer of modern life. In the first half of the book, he appears to have given up on any form of personal expression. Reading verbatim tweets and listening to people recount their dreams can be as tedious as it sounds. The writing style throughout this section is flat, resembling a casual blog devoid of emotion. It is possible that this intentional approach seeks to reflect Morimoto’s belief in his lack of personality, perceiving himself as a neutral entity among the crowd. When he does attempt to use metaphors, they are peculiar and jarring. For example, he contemplates on whether his do-nothing service has a catalytic effect on clients and compares them to hydrogen peroxide while comparing himself to manganese peroxide. He also suggests that his clients develop their own perceptions of his thoughts due to his quiet demeanor and likens this phenomenon to peacocks and jewel beetles who possess ever-changing hues.
As the book progresses, Morimoto gradually reveals biographical details that shed light on his motivations and outlook on life. His older brother failed his university exams, spiraled into depression, and has been unable to find work despite being over 40. His older sister also struggled in her quest for a fulfilling job, tragically ending her own life. Morimoto’s academic pursuits initially focused on studying earthquakes, but he eventually became a freelance writer crafting business pamphlets. At work, he faced criticism for his lack of a strong personality and was chided for his silent demeanor during after-hours gatherings. He acknowledges his inability to generate useful ideas when his company sought to outsource simple tasks and focus on more creative endeavors.
Cheers to Morimoto for daring to resist what the late David Graeber referred to as “bullshit jobs.” He rejects superficial speech patterns, self-assessment exercises, mindless bureaucratic tasks, and hollow calls for teamwork and community. Ultimately, Morimoto envisions a world where individuals can lead stress-free lives even if they cannot actively contribute to society or help others. In a culture like Japan’s, where the pressure of reciprocation is deeply ingrained, stress becomes an omnipresent force throughout daily life.
While Morimoto may describe himself as “living without doing anything,” he inadvertently emerges as a profound observer of modern society. One of his most poignant experiences involves a young woman who lost her grandmother on the same day she left Tokyo to study abroad. After a year away, she returns and messages Morimoto, expressing her sadness and desire for someone to welcome her at the airport. They meet at a karaoke box where she sings and reminisces about her grandmother’s generosity, particularly when it came to sharing ice cream. Initially, she appears cheerful, but as she confides in Morimoto about not being able to attend the funeral and disclose her true feelings to her friends, she eventually breaks down in tears. This quietly powerful scene evokes a sense of emotional devastation reminiscent of a film by Hirokazu Kore-eda.
In conclusion, “Rental Person Who Does Nothing” may start off slowly, seemingly capitalizing on a momentary internet story. However, as the memoir unfolds, Morimoto, although still enigmatic, emerges as a modern-day Bartleby, an unintentional dissenter who finds joy in the absurdity of defying the pressures of efficiency. “Rental Person Who Does Nothing: The True Adventures of Japan’s Rental Person” by Shoji Morimoto, translated by Don Knotting, is a thought-provoking publication that challenges societal norms. To support Guardian and Observer, you can order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
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