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Tokyo: In Japan, a nation famous for corporate loyalty and employment for life, people who jump into action are often seen as quitters. This is considered shameful. Enter “taishoku daiko” or “leaving agents”. Dozens of these services have popped up in the past several years to help people who simply want to get out. “Imagine a messy divorce,” he says. Yoshihito Hasegawawho heads the Tokyo-based TRK, which guardian Last year the service advised 13,000 people on how to quit their jobs with the least amount of hassle.
People often stick to jobs even when they are unhappy, feeling as if they are a “kamikaze” sacrificing their lives for the greater good, he said, comparing his clients to pilots sent on suicide missions in the final days of World War II. To withdraw would be treason. Founded in 2020, Guardian, a Taishoku daiko service, has helped many people, mostly in their 20s and 30s, escape less painfully from the jobs they want to leave. This includes people who worked at a Shinto shrine, a dentist’s office, a shop’s law firm, and restaurant staff.
Almost half of Guardian’s clients are women. Some work for a day or two and then discover that promises of wages or hours were wrong. The Guardian charges 29,800 yen (US$208) for its service, which includes a three-month membership of a union that will represent the employee in what can quickly turn into a delicate and confusing negotiation process in Japan. In general, Guardian clients have worked in small and medium-sized companies. Sometimes people who work for big companies ask for help. In many cases, managers have too much say in how things are run, and sometimes they simply refuse to let a worker leave, especially since many places are short cut from the start, given Japan’s chronic labor shortage.
Japanese law basically guarantees people the right to quit, but some employers who are used to the old hierarchy can’t accept the idea that someone they’ve trained will want to quit. Those who tackled the battle of withdrawal and those interviewed for this story used terms like “fanatics,” “bullies,” and “little Hitler” to describe these presidents. The pressures of “workaholics” in Japanese culture are excruciatingly heavy. Workers do not want to be seen as troublemakers, are reluctant to question authority and may be afraid to speak up. They may fear harassment after quitting smoking. Some worry about the opinions of their family or friends.
Although most Guardian customers prefer to remain anonymous, a young man who goes by the name Twichan on the Internet sought help after he was criticized for his performance in sales and became so depressed that he contemplated suicide. With the help of the Guardian, he was able to take off in 45 minutes.
People often stick to jobs even when they are unhappy, feeling as if they are a “kamikaze” sacrificing their lives for the greater good, he said, comparing his clients to pilots sent on suicide missions in the final days of World War II. To withdraw would be treason. Founded in 2020, Guardian, a Taishoku daiko service, has helped many people, mostly in their 20s and 30s, escape less painfully from the jobs they want to leave. This includes people who worked at a Shinto shrine, a dentist’s office, a shop’s law firm, and restaurant staff.
Almost half of Guardian’s clients are women. Some work for a day or two and then discover that promises of wages or hours were wrong. The Guardian charges 29,800 yen (US$208) for its service, which includes a three-month membership of a union that will represent the employee in what can quickly turn into a delicate and confusing negotiation process in Japan. In general, Guardian clients have worked in small and medium-sized companies. Sometimes people who work for big companies ask for help. In many cases, managers have too much say in how things are run, and sometimes they simply refuse to let a worker leave, especially since many places are short cut from the start, given Japan’s chronic labor shortage.
Japanese law basically guarantees people the right to quit, but some employers who are used to the old hierarchy can’t accept the idea that someone they’ve trained will want to quit. Those who tackled the battle of withdrawal and those interviewed for this story used terms like “fanatics,” “bullies,” and “little Hitler” to describe these presidents. The pressures of “workaholics” in Japanese culture are excruciatingly heavy. Workers do not want to be seen as troublemakers, are reluctant to question authority and may be afraid to speak up. They may fear harassment after quitting smoking. Some worry about the opinions of their family or friends.
Although most Guardian customers prefer to remain anonymous, a young man who goes by the name Twichan on the Internet sought help after he was criticized for his performance in sales and became so depressed that he contemplated suicide. With the help of the Guardian, he was able to take off in 45 minutes.
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