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Before leaving Tokyo for her new job, Akari Shirai wanted to eat at the favorite restaurant she was visiting with her ex-husband.
But there was one issue: she didn't want to be flooded with thoughts of her divorce by going alone. But neither did she want to invite a friend over and explain the situation to him. So she hired the Japanese man "who does nothing."
Their almost silent lunch lasted about 45 minutes. Shirai ordered her favorite dish and asked questions from time to time. She shared memories of her marriage to the man and showed him a photo from her wedding. He nodded affirmatively and gave sharp answers, sometimes a dry laugh. He never initiated a conversation. It was exactly what Shirai wanted."
"I felt like I was with someone, but at the same time I felt like I wasn't, since he existed in a way that I didn't have to be attentive to his needs or think about him," says Shirai, 27. I didn't feel any awkwardness or pressure to talk. It was probably the first time I ate in complete silence."
For years, there has been a cottage industry in Japan and South Korea that hires strangers to impersonate friends, family members or other acquaintances as a way to save face at social events where they are expected to be accompanied.
But for the past four years, Shoji Morimoto, 38, has offered himself as a warm body who can just be there, freeing his clients from the social expectations of the verbal and unspoken rules of Japanese society. Morimoto - nicknamed Rental-san, has inspired a TV series and three books and has garnered international attention through his viral social media posts.
The events Morimoto has attended run the gamut. He waited at the finish line of a marathon for a client who wanted to see a familiar face at the end of the race. Some people hired him to sit with them while they finished their thesis, because they might relax if they worked alone. He also hears healthcare workers describe the price of the mental health pandemic.
He charges 10,000 yen (around 75 euros) per session and is usually hired to accompany people who are at a turning point in their lives or want to rewrite traumatic memories or are facing a vulnerable moment they feel uncomfortable sharing with friends or family. He will simply be there, without judgment, and away from their personal space.
One woman hired him to accompany her as she filed her divorce papers. He once sat with a client for a hemorrhoid surgery consultation with many graphic photos. Someone hired him for a dramatic farewell as he boarded a train to travel from Tokyo to Osaka. He showed up and waved goodbye.
Morimoto often finds that his clients don't want to burden the people they care about with their needs.
"I think that when people feel vulnerable or are in personal moments, they become more sensitive to the people around them, like how they will be perceived or the kind of actions they will take for them," he says. "So I think they just want to connect with a stranger, no strings attached."
Unlike other sectors of the rental industry, Morimoto's expectations are minimal. Still, it provides the kind of emotional support that many people crave but may struggle to find, especially during a pandemic that has exacerbated feelings of isolation, says Yasushi Fujii, a professor of psychology at Meisei University in Tokyo.
"In interacting with friends and other people, there are always unknown factors that can come into play. But when meeting Rental-san, it's very easy to know what to expect and have full control of the situation," Fujii says.
A handful of other "renters" have similar situations, such as a guy hired to buy him meals, and a self-proclaimed "ugly" guy who claims to boost the self-esteem of others. But Morimoto has specialized the market in doing nothing, for cash, and many people are now hiring him for this innovation.
Morimoto, who grew up in Kansai, a southern region of Japan, came up with the idea after being told at previous jobs that he wasn't doing enough and didn't have enough initiative to succeed. Now he has fulfilled about 4,000 requests and has one to two customers a day, up from three to four before the pandemic. He says he makes enough to maintain a dual-income household and raise a son.
"I was often told that I wasn't doing enough or that I wasn't doing anything, so that became a complex for me. I decided to take advantage of it and make it a business," she says.
The lifestyle works well for Morimoto, who isn't as talkative or expressive even when he's not working. He wears his signature blue hat and a hoodie - and a blank stare - so customers can easily identify him, but dresses when the situation calls for him to look more formal.
Morimoto hesitates to make too many assumptions about why his business model has gained notoriety. He says he has learned not to judge others and to have empathy for people who may be going through deep personal challenges but don't show it.
"Even if people seem normal and nice on the surface, they often have shocking pasts or secrets or impossible problems," he says. "People who come to me with crazy problems are usually not people who look like they're suffering. Everyone, even those who seem fine, have all their own problems and secrets."
Source: iefimerida.gr
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