A Breakdown in Dialogue — Words That Never Reached My Manager
When speaking with Mari, I gradually began to lose my composure. Without fully realising it, I found myself approaching our conversations in a confrontational stance. I did not want to give in to the growing sense of helplessness that was steadily taking hold inside me.
She consistently expressed a preference for speaking face to face rather than communicating by email or chat. Even so, I felt that she continued to avoid responding directly to my questions and proposals. It was as though my words never truly reached her. I began to feel as if I were speaking to a wall.
During meetings, she started to write down my emotionally charged remarks, or quietly repeat them back to me, as if to confirm what had been said. Each time a conversation ended, I reproached myself for having failed to restrain my impulses.
Over and over again, I found myself returning to the same unanswerable question:
“I was so deeply committed to my work — how did things end up like this?”
I could scarcely believe what was happening to me. It felt as though I were being swept about by some vast, impersonal force beyond my control. As a result, even when I sat at my desk, my thoughts would not come together, and my hands would simply stop moving.
Outsourcing My Responsibilities — The Moment I Understood My Manager’s True Intentions
One day, Mari asked me to sit in on a meeting with an external firm. It was there that she informed me that part of the marketing work we had previously handled in-house would now be outsourced.
After the meeting, I spoke to her directly.
“Companies like ours operate in a highly specialised field and cover a wide range of areas,” I said. “I think we need to have a more thorough discussion about which tasks should be outsourced.”
I will never forget her response.
“You’re already a veteran, Naoki, aren’t you? It’s time you moved on from this kind of work.”
I was left speechless. It felt as though my age was being used against me — and as though the value of my role was being casually dismissed. What I had wanted to discuss was not outsourcing itself, but its underlying purpose and the longer-term vision behind it.
A Workplace Ruled by Silence — Employees Reduced to Fear
Under the new senior leadership, explanations began to be given—openly, in front of employees—about why people had left the company. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. The lack of basic decency in those remarks was shocking.
“Mr X was asked to leave because his skills were insufficient.”
“Ms Y was asked to leave because her remarks undermined trust.”
In the sales department, there was a colleague I will call A. He was one of the key figures who had contributed significantly to the growth of the Japanese operation.
He had his own approach to negotiating the renewal of a contract with a major client. However, after following instructions from the new leadership, the client’s trust was damaged, and the contract renewal fell through.
A was then ordered to submit a written explanation and was required to apologise publicly at an all-hands meeting. I felt deeply distressed, yet I said nothing. The senior managers who had once relied on him remained silent as well. Not long afterwards, A chose to resign.
Another colleague in the sales department, whom I will call B, rang me late one night. Her words were edged with frustration and grief that she could barely put into language.
“I’m leaving at the end of this week,” she said. “They say it’s because my sales results are poor. But my manager’s intimidating behaviour affected my mental health, and I had to take time off. That’s why I missed my targets. I tried to explain, but no one would listen. I was afraid it would hurt my chances of finding another job, so I couldn’t talk to anyone about it.”
Unable to ignore what went against my sense of decency, I contacted the human resources department at our European headquarters. However, at that time, I lacked both the authority and the influence to change the situation.
Because the Japanese operation functioned independently, there was little room for head office to intervene. What was happening in a distant subsidiary, shaped by a different culture, was difficult for them to see clearly.
The corporate culture had been fundamentally distorted. In the presence of senior management, an atmosphere of tension and silence settled over the workplace—one in which no one felt able to raise their voice.
The Breaking Point — Outcry Across a Screen, and the Moment of Separation
Even as I felt myself being pushed to the psychological brink, I kept telling myself to get through one day at a time. It was a mindset I had adopted almost instinctively—a way of coping in a situation where no end was in sight.
Then, the day I decided to take sick leave arrived without warning.
There was a major project I had been leading at the centre of my work. Without my knowledge, it had been cancelled. It was a project into which I had poured every ounce of experience and skill I had accumulated.
The shock was overwhelming. My vision darkened, and when I thought of the scale of inconvenience this would cause—to clients, partner companies, and others involved—my body began to tremble with fear.
With a sharp, cracking sound, something inside me finally gave way.
That day, I was working from home. Fully aware that it was already outside working hours, I contacted Mari and asked to speak immediately via video call.
In a small room on the ground floor of my house, I quite literally raised my voice at her through the computer screen, unleashing the emotions that had been building for so long. It was not only about the sudden cancellation of the project. I demanded explanations for the series of opaque decisions and baffling actions that had preceded it.
She did not answer my questions directly. But for the first time, she showed her emotions openly. Striking the desk, she said things broadly along these lines:
“Do you think challenging me has any meaning? I’m your manager.”
“Where does that motivation of yours even come from?”
“I don’t understand why you don’t move elsewhere. You’ll be demoted next year anyway, won’t you?”
“Please don’t ask for meetings like this outside working hours again.”
I stared straight into her eyes on the screen and found myself unable to move. The frustration was beyond words, and I could tell my face had hardened into something almost frightening. I clenched my teeth, desperately holding back tears.
In that moment, I understood with painful clarity that no matter how much effort or passion I poured in, I was powerless in the face of an organisational structure. Summoning what little voice I had left, I said only, “That’s enough,” and pressed the button to leave the video call.
In the end, that was the last conversation I ever had with her.
