“After graduating from photography school, I looked for work but got rejected at every turn. So I wound up as a job-hopping part-timer. My old man kept bugging me about getting a ‘real’ job, and things grew increasingly tense between us. And that’s why I ended up living alone.”
“But then you became a full-timer anyway.”
“Yeah.”
“So are you back in your father’s good graces?”
I shook my head without saying anything, and the three of us fell silent for a moment.
“It’s a delicate issue and hard to explain. I don’t understand it myself.”
“I’ll come out and say it: you still want to be a photographer. So Tajima deliberately provokes you—”
“No way. I’ve given up on it all. The fact that I even had that dream still causes me a lot of pain. When I was young my father got transferred a lot, so I went from school to school without ever fitting in anywhere. My parents got worried and tried to find a hobby that might interest me, so when I entered middle school they gave me a single-lens reflex camera. Back then we were still using film.”
“What was the model?” asked Yasokichi.
“An EOS,” I replied, making no effort to hide my annoyance at the unwelcome question.
“You got an EOS when you entered middle school? Wow, some pampered rich kid you must’ve been!”
“Come on . . . I suppose being an only child I was a bit spoiled, and my parents probably felt guilty since we moved around so much. But I got into it and set up a camera club at school, and that made them happy, and my father in particular seemed proud that I put in the effort to do something I really wanted to do. But then, in my last year of high school, when I explained that instead of going to college I wanted to become a photographer, he hit the roof, saying that very few people can make a living this way, and that I ought to get a degree instead. That’s when things starting going downhill between us.”
“That must have been hard on your father too.”
“He finally caved when my mother said that if I really had my heart set on going to photography school, it might not be such a bad idea for them to fork out the money. But when I couldn’t find employment after I graduated, he lorded it over me with his told-you-so sermonizing, saying that I should have gone to a proper university after all, that it was too late now, and that I would have to make the best of it on my own. I have to admit that I’d let myself be carried away by wishful thinking, and seeing my dream shattered gave me a huge shock. I didn’t know what to do and drifted for a while doing part-time jobs. Still, those questions about getting a real job or thinking seriously about the future were a total pain in the ass, and it ticked me off when my father needled me about it.
Hitoshi, he’d say, you and I are alike in having no outstanding talent and thus we are stuck with having to follow the straight-and-narrow path of white-collardom. But you can’t let yourself be brokenhearted at disappointment. There are all sorts of other dreams you can pursue even while working for a company. For example, I could never have become an automobile designer, but I still find plenty of satisfaction in selling the cars I like.
“He would rattle on like that, but I knew he had no interest whatsoever in cars and detested being a dealer. I remember that once, when he and my mother had gotten into a row, he raged about how he was merely putting up with his job, saying that if he didn’t have a family to support, he’d give it all up and become a ceramist. Instead, he remained a mediocre cog in the sales machine, with no particular achievements to boast of. I got fed up with it all and told him to look in the mirror before starting in on me.”
As I talked, I was putting the beer away big time. I had thought I was drinking because I was in high spirits, but then I realized that my real intention was simply to get sloshed. I didn’t know what it was, but something was causing me unbearable pain.
I’m the type who falls asleep when drunk. Already my eyelids were starting to droop.
“Have you told Tajima any of this?”
“I tried hard to get along with him in the early days, and so I bravely opened up about what was weighing on me.”
“He disliked you even from the beginning.”
“It seems so.”
“Why?”
“I guess I do things that rub people the wrong way,” I said, trying to make a joke at my own expense. When I first appeared on the scene, I had been working part-time at the nearby Yoshinoya. My only source of pleasure was going to the local Megaton and fooling around with the cameras on display. I had resolved to give up on photography and had left my own cameras behind when I bolted out of my parents’ house, yet I remained interested in the latest models and would keep up by checking them out on the Internet and reading specialty magazines. And that made me realize that what I liked was not so much photographs as cameras.
I’d go to Megaton every day and hang around. The employees soon got used to seeing me, and I’d have friendly chats with them, including Tajima. To make up for the fact that I was a customer who never purchased anything, I would pile on a little extra helping when they’d come into Yoshinoya for a bite to eat.
Once a Megaton customer called to me, apparently taking me for an employee. It was, I suppose, an easy mistake to make, as I was casually dressed in navy-blue chinos and a brown jacket, similar to the actual employees. I looked around and, seeing no clerk, offered my assistance. When it came to knowledge of the latest products, I could hold my own against any of the staff and so played my role to perfection, even surprising myself at just how smooth my sales pitch was. The customer clearly had an itch, and I knew just where to scratch. As it happened, he was looking for information rather than an immediate purchase and so, having heard my spiel, left the store quite content.
Another customer had been observing us and then came to me to ask about the most popular models. I instinctively guided him to the top-sellers, explained their strengths and weaknesses, and, when he seemed to waver, asked for what purpose he chiefly intended to use the product. With that matter cleared up, I made a further suggestion and, when he again appeared to vacillate, pushed the hidden pluses of the camera. Finally, for good measure, I added: “Actually, I own and regularly use this one myself—in black—and, to tell you the truth, I’m so comfortable with it that I wouldn’t want any other. But that’s just between you and me.”
And with that I clinched the sale, though now I was in trouble, having, of course, no access to the merchandise. The customer suddenly looked suspicious, when Nakamura, a staff member who knew me, came to my rescue, along with Tajima. And so the purchase went off without a hitch.
Impressed by my prowess, Nakamura told me that I ought to leave Yoshinoya and come to work for Megaton, saying that if I was interested, he’d be happy to put in a good word for me with his superiors. And so I landed an interview. Tajima, suspecting that I had been trying to con the customer out of his money, voiced his skepticism to the hiring committee, but in the end it was Nakamura’s recommendation that won the day.
Reminiscing about it all, I found myself dozing off—slipping from memories to dreams. I was running away from a pursuer. All I remember is feeling relieved at not yet having been caught.
Drifting awake, I heard Minami-san say to Yasokichi: “You need to be more solid, you know, in the hips . . .”
“Are you talking about sumo?” I asked.
“Go back to sleep, Hitoshi,” said Yasokichi.
“Yasokichi’s a lightweight.”
Minami-san’s eyes had also turned glassy. Whenever he got plastered, he’d start in on personal evaluations. “Am I no better than Hitoshi?” he asked Yasokichi.
“Nagano’s heavy. You’re light as a balloon.”
“Am I a balloon?”
“He’s