The Job: Workaday Bafflement with Tadashi

I went into Tadashi's office on Monday. I was the last of the English-language team to be called, which might have been an advantageous position if anyone else had given me an idea of what to expect. I'd asked, believe me, but no two people had quite seemed to have the same experience, and there was no consensus on what Tadashi was actually looking for.

"Think of it this way," Tim said, "If you fuck up, you'll have no way of knowing."

Thanks, Tim!

"Tadashi's Office" was really just an all-purpose office where any two people could go if they needed a desk for one person to be in front of and another person to be behind. Obviously, "workplace harassment" roleplaying is the first thing that comes to mind, but Tadashi didn't seem like the type.

He was there when I entered, sitting between the desk and a blank white wall, wearing the same smile I'm now used to seeing in Japanese fast food places. Not fake, exactly, just... practiced. Automatic. He beckoned me to sit.

"I've called you to discuss a concern the company has, for the content team," he said. "You are familiar with our company's philosophy."

If he meant the five-page document we'd been handed on our first day, then yeah, I was familiar with it. At a glance, it was airy-fairy rambling interposed with diagrams linking together abstract concepts in vaguely occult-looking pattens. I eventually attempted a closer reading, and discovered that the last couple of paragraphs were actually a pretty straightforward statement of purpose and responsibility.

Anyway, I nodded.

“This is a difficult thing to say, I think,” said Tadashi. “I don’t want you to get the idea that we are saying, ‘you cannot be creative, you cannot make your own ideas.’ You understand.”

I nodded again, and quietly resolved to keep nodding until the talking stopped.

“Good. What we want to say is… the product, the Hyperreal, is meant to communicate, you understand. We want to create a good communication, good ideas. I want to explain - what I mean by a good idea or a bad idea…”

I couldn’t quite tell if I was supposed to fill this pause. Eh, what the hell.

“Like, if we implied that violence was funny – a scene with two characters hitting each other, or something like that.” I paused. “Bad idea.”

“Yes!” said Tadashi. My answer seemed to ease the mood. “If people see it, and are motivated for something bad… like violence, or greed. That is not what we want to make. It is entertainment with a purpose.”

“I understand,” I said. “You want us to be careful of what ideas we promote, so people come away with the right kind of motivation.”

Again, I couldn’t quite tell whether it was still my turn to speak. It occurred to me to wonder why these were one-on-one sessions.

“Um,” I continued, “One of my favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut, wrote a book like that.” Tadashi’s mouth silently traced the unfamiliar word Vonnegut. “Breakfast of Champions was the name of the novel. A man reads a book of science fiction, and he goes insane because he believes what it says. The idea was bad for him.”

As some of you might know, that’s an oversimplification, even without the stiff language. But it made Tadashi smile – it was clearly encouraging to him that I was familiar with the concept he was trying to get across.

“I think you understand,” said Tadashi. “We like to be creative, but to be responsible as well. If we can motivate people, it is a great responsibility. To have an idea yourself is a small thing. To give ideas to others is much bigger, and so the responsibility too is a large one.”

Before another awkward pause could descend, words of vague agreement spilled out of my mouth. I panic a little bit in situations like this, when all someone wants is for me to agree with them on something. It's no easier when the subject matter is something I don't feel strongly about, like "ideas are important." I mean, I agree, but trying to be enthusiastic about something so vague and indisputable is like trying to compose an impassioned speech about the health benefits of oxygen.

Still, I can generally mutter something that brings the awkwardness to an end, and whatever I said to Tadashi - something about ideas changing the world, I think, and the word "revolution" was in there somewhere - was apparently a good cap to the conversation. He smiled and stood, and I followed and bowed.

I have no idea what just happened.