May 19, 2025
Finding Meaning in My Work: Playing for Just One Person
In the world of manufacturing, we often feel distant from the end consumer. Unlike working in restaurants or cafés, where we get to interact with customers face-to-face, it's rare for those of us in the manufacturing industry to directly see the people who benefit from what we do.
When I was a student, I worked part-time at a restaurant. Back then, I enjoyed those moments when customers would say "thank you" after a meal. But after becoming a company employee, I continued to work in jobs where I couldn't see the faces of customers. During that time, I felt a lot of frustration.
In fact, I am still in that situation now. I have almost no way of knowing who is reading this article or what kind of impressions they have.
But as I continued my hobby of music, my way of thinking began to change.
When I could see the "faces of customers" and when I couldn't
My very first job was at a restaurant during my college days. Like most students, I worked for the money, not because I thought it would be fun or fulfilling. At first, I was too focused on remembering what to do and worrying if I was doing it right. But as I got used to the job, I started noticing something.
Many customers would thank us as they left. Some even said, "Great meal!" or "Thanks for the service" (I am also one of those who does this). It felt wonderful. I realized that we weren't just serving food. We were creating a pleasant experience for someone. Then, I recognized that providing someone with a pleasant time was a source of fulfillment.
Additionally, there was a period when I worked part-time at a computer store as a dispatch employee from a manufacturer. There were many customers who would like some advice from a tech-savvy person or who can't find the product they're looking for.
When customers casually asked me for help or saw their faces lit up with understanding after hearing my explanation, I felt that all the studying I had done for this part-time job was worthwhile.
But the situation changed drastically when I became a company employee.
The broadcasting industry has a slightly different income structure. The "customers" who pay are not viewers but sponsors such as companies, while the "final consumers" who consume the content are general viewers. This is because programs are produced for the general public, not for the sponsoring companies.
When I was a rookie, I didn't think much about such things, but I gradually began to ponder, "Who am I doing this for?"
Who am I doing this for?
Then one night, we aired a segment on cutting-edge medical treatment on our news show. The phones in our office started ringing. Those calls were from people who wanted to know where they could get the treatment we had featured. I even took some of those calls myself.
That night, for the first time, I truly saw the faces of our viewers.
It wasn't just a story anymore. It was real people--sick, worried, hopeful--looking for help. I realized then that our work had reached someone, and it mattered.
But ironically, that meaningful experience also made me doubt myself more often. It's rare to get the chance to speak directly with someone who's watched the show. After having such a meaningful experience once, I kept working to be helpful to viewers, but I also found myself increasingly asking, "Was that video good enough? Most days, the only feedback I got was through impersonal viewer ratings. There were no faces on the graph. No voices. Just numbers.
Inspiration from a hobby
When you create something for a mass audience, it's hard to know who, if anyone, truly connects with it. That's true in my current writing job too. I rarely know who's reading my articles or how they're feeling.
But music gave me a new perspective.
For the sake of the "someone" I can't see
I play in a band. After I quit my job and went freelance, I started joining live shows more frequently. We're not famous, just an ordinary amateur group. We don't have the same fans showing up to every session.
But one day, something special happened.
A close friend of mine, who's often sick and can't go out, had always said she wanted to hear me perform live. So, I recorded one of our shows and sent it to her. She was overjoyed. She said, "I've bought all those 'relaxing sleep' CDs before, but your performance helped me fall asleep the most peacefully."
From then on, I streamed our performances online so she could watch them in real time. She's not physically in front of me during those shows. Sometimes she might even be asleep during the live stream. But I still perform each time like she's right there listening. Just imagining her on the other side of the screen gives me a sense of purpose--one that fills each note with meaning.
Now, every time I perform, I pick one "target person." It might be a friend who came to see us, or someone I passed on the street who looked down, or even a child practicing piano nearby. I think, "Today, I'm playing for him or her."
People I will probably never see again
The other day, something else happened. I had the opportunity to perform at an outdoor stage at a famous cherry blossom spot in Tokyo. Surprisingly, many passersby stopped to listen, and we spent a joyful time together. It was nighttime, so I couldn't see the audience's faces clearly, but one stood out.
She was an elderly lady, perhaps over 80, dancing joyfully to our music. She was my "target" that day.
I had hauled heavy gear and rehearsed for hours, all for her. If I helped make her day just a little brighter, that was enough for me.
We never spoke. I'll probably never see her again. But she gave me something priceless, a renewed energy to keep playing, to keep creating.
"A sense of fulfillment" doesn't require grand ambitions
I believe it is very important for someone who creates something to be directly thanked and rewarded by someone else. But in today's economy, it is not easy to encounter such situations unless you work at a small, independently owned shop.
I wonder if the elderly lady who danced for me the other day told her family or friends about that day and enjoyed it. I hope so. That's just my imagination, but lately, I've come to enjoy imagining how what I did that day might have affected the people I met.
There are many kinds of work. Some people work on big issues like the global environment and social problems, while others work behind the scenes to support people's daily lives. If I had continued working at the broadcasting station a little longer, I might have become a well-known journalist. But due to various circumstances, I am now on a different path.
Still, I am grateful every day for the small moments of joy I find along the way. I don't know who will read this article. But I hope it helps my friend who is reading this or perhaps catches the eye of the person I just passed by at the convenience store. That's what I thought as I wrote it.
