The Lucky Ride, page 27
Note to Readers
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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780063376243
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Note to Readers
Prologue
Deadline
The Driver
Rewards Card
Seeds of Happiness
Taxi
Is Effort Always Rewarded?
The Taste of Soba
Yes, But Definitely Not
The Last Lesson
A Second Chance at Life
A Fresh Start
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
You’ve had a phenomenal year.
Thank you.
I understand you write your own music and lyrics. When did you decide to pursue a career in the music industry?
I’m a bit of a late bloomer. My father brought home a guitar when I was in junior high school . . .
zzzt . . .
Grounded out with a man on in his last at bat. I’m sure he’d like to get a hit here to bring the runner home. What do you think goes through a batter’s mind in this situation?
The taxi driver changed the radio station to the baseball broadcast perhaps out of consideration for Shuichi sitting in the back seat. He appeared to be around Shuichi’s age.
“I don’t understand the music the kids are listening to these days,” the driver muttered, glancing at Shuichi through the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, right?” Shuichi answered, pushing a smile. “But I think I’d rather listen to the music program over the game.”
“Right, sorry.” The driver switched the station again.
And your father is a consultant of some kind?
A financial planner, yes.
Sounds like he played a prominent role in shaping who you are today. Let’s talk about the new release. The single is “TAXI,” off the album Life Is Beautiful, which dropped on the twentieth of this month. Tell us more about it.
One day, I took a ride in a rather peculiar taxi, and from that day on, my life was completely transformed. I wrote the song based on that experience.
Okay, let’s have a listen. Here now is “TAXI” by Yumeka.
It wasn’t a song Shuichi had heard before, but it sounded pleasant to his ears.
“A peculiar taxi, eh?” he muttered to himself.
Shuichi let slip a smile as a memory he’d not recalled in about a decade came back to him.
Deadline
A year seems like an eternity, yet it passes in the blink of an eye.
Everyone feels that way at year’s end, but for Shuichi Okada, who had switched careers to life insurance, the passage of a year was fraught with a terror that penetrated to his very core. Each month felt as though he was on the brink of being crushed by that fear.
Although there might have been companies in his industry that offered a fixed salary, Shuichi’s company wasn’t one of them.
Full commission.
Anyone who’d worked under this compensation model would know his apprehension. For each new contract that was secured, a fixed percentage of the insurance premiums paid by the policyholder went directly to your earnings. Although the percentage varied by company, Shuichi’s was fairly generous in this aspect. There was, however, a catch: after the initial one-year period, the percentage dropped significantly. At least, this was how it worked at Shuichi’s company. In other words, you could rely on the premiums as income for the first year, but from then on, they became almost negligible. Therefore, you had to secure more contracts before the drop took effect.
Initially, when he thought “there’s still six months left,” he didn’t feel stressed about it, but as the realization of “there’s only two months left” dawned on him, he increasingly found himself unable to eat or sleep at night.
SHUICHI GRADUATED FROM A PRIVATE UNIVERSITY in Tokyo that wasn’t exactly top-tier. As a result, he struggled mightily during the job hunt, and even after managing to land a position at a company, he bounced around from one job to another before eventually settling at his current one.
His previous job was in sales at a used-car dealership, and it wasn’t uncommon for salespeople like Shuichi to transition from selling used cars to selling insurance. While the products were different, both jobs involved dealing with insurance matters, and more importantly, building strong relationships with their clientele. Salespeople knew all manner of details about their clients, such as their family composition as well as the ages of their children. Additionally, understanding what car someone purchased and how provided insight into their income and lifestyle. That kind of information was an asset in this line of work.
The catalyst for the job change was listening to a senior colleague’s endless complaints about the used-car dealership and compliments about how wonderful his life was now after changing careers. Indeed, the dealership had more than its fair share of unreasonable aspects.
“If there was a better opportunity, I would jump ship in a heartbeat.” That thought was foremost not only in Shuichi’s mind but also among many of his colleagues.
Every time they met, the ex–senior colleague tried to persuade him to join his company, saying:
“You can have fun and make easy money as long as you can pull in contracts.”
“The good thing about this job is that your earnings depend on your efforts.”
“You’d be better off here too.”
Shuichi joined the same insurance company only to discover that his colleague had quit shortly thereafter.
After skillfully leveraging past connections to pull in new contracts shortly after changing jobs, even the senior colleague, who initially earned a monthly salary of almost four thousand yen in the first year, faced the challenge of the second year. Less than half a year after Shuichi gave in to temptation and changed careers, the complaints the colleague used to make about the car dealership shifted to complaints about the current company. By the time his income had dwindled to nearly zero, he had mysteriously disappeared.
Though it wasn’t clear whether the statistic was based on accurate data, it was said that only 3 percent of insurance agents lasted ten years in the industry. While Shuichi had never considered why that was before starting the job, he now understood the difficulties of surviving a decade in the business.
“Good morning.”
Shuichi barely got the words out before the company president, Takeshi Wakiya, barked, “Okada!” as if he’d been waiting for Shuichi to arrive.
Wakiya always wore a neatly pressed suit and never went without a jacket, even in the increasingly humid summer. Always conscious of his physique, he routinely hit the gym after work to stay in shape. He kept his hair neatly styled and usually wore glasses, though it wasn’t clear whether they were for fashion or for their intended purpose.
Wakiya, who was roughly the same age as Shuichi, had founded the company at the age of thirty and steadily expanded its size over the past eighteen years. Currently, there were six employees, including Shuichi. While the company could hardly be considered large, growing a business in this industry from a one-man operation to its current size was no small feat.
The reality was the company’s performance was largely thanks to Wakiya. His status as the only member in the company to be named to the Million Dollar Round Table confirmed his skill as a top insurance agent. The MDRT was an international association of life insurance and financial services professionals and required securing a significant number of contracts to earn membership. That the president was able to maintain his membership for ten years running was something Shuichi couldn’t even dream of achieving for a single year.
“Yes?” Shuichi answered as he approached Wakiya’s desk.
Wakiya glared at him through his glasses. It was a look Shuichi had seen before. It was when one of the contracts he had secured ended up getting canceled. Sensing trouble, he responded again.
“Yes . . . ?”
Wakiya dropped the documents he was holding onto the desk, removed his glasses with his now-free hand, and rubbed the corners of his eyes with the other. After putting his glasses back on, he questioned, “Does the name Saido Seminars ring a bell?”
“Sure . . .” Shuichi’s voice was trembling and thin as if it might fade to nothing at any moment.
“They canceled their contracts.”
Shuichi was speechless.
Saido Seminars was a cram school that he had stumbled upon ten months ago. As luck would have it, the head teacher, Yuto Asakura, had been interested in hearing Shuichi’s pitch from the beginning and had signed up almost immediately.
As it happened, Asakura had recently gotten married, and he and his wife were expecting a child. The life change prompted him to consider purchasing life insurance. The opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time for Shuichi.
The school was filled with young teachers, and given that the head teacher didn’t have life insurance, it stood to reason no one else did either. Encouraged by the head teacher’s casual suggestion that the others sh
This turn of luck had truly saved Shuichi. Without it, he might not have continued at his job, considering the challenges he faced in securing contracts at the time.
“Who . . . canceled?” Shuichi finally asked, his dry throat barely managing to get out the words.
Wakiya expelled a long sigh and shook his head. “All of them.”
Shuichi’s mind went blank. Twenty policies canceled within a year of issuance! Not only would the insurance premiums for the upcoming month be deducted from his next month’s salary, but he would also have to refund the insurance premiums paid over the past ten months to the company. Even a quick mental calculation told him that would amount to a staggering sum.
That’s it. I’m finished.
On the wall behind Wakiya’s desk hung a framed piece of calligraphy.
It was a saying, written in someone’s hand, that Wakiya was rather fond of.
Stay positive, and laugh more than anyone else.
Every time Wakiya would talk about the virtue of “staying positive” in morning meetings, Shuichi, a natural pessimist, would think, If staying positive were so easy, no one would have to struggle in life. He never said it out loud, of course.
Given that he struggled to maintain a bright outlook under normal circumstances, there was no way he could see this grim situation positively. And it was certainly nothing to laugh about.
“Well, you’re not accomplishing anything by just standing there,” Wakiya said to Shuichi, who was frozen in bewilderment.
Shuichi snapped back to reality.
“R-right, I’ll go to Saido Seminars immediately,” he said weakly.
As Shuichi left the office he had only just arrived at, the mood of his colleagues seemed to suggest, It won’t be long before he’s gone.
Paying a visit to the cram school wouldn’t change anything. Everyone knew that. Not to mention, the school wouldn’t even be open at this early hour. Yet none of his colleagues stopped him from leaving.
“I feel terrible about this, Okada-san, I really do. But she’s the mother of one of our students,” said Asakura awkwardly.
Gaggles of junior high school students greeted Asakura as they headed to their classrooms. He responded to each student with a “hello,” his attention focused more on them than on Shuichi as they conversed.
It was likely nearing the start of class as teachers nearby began to stir. Some of them, having canceled their insurance, cast sidelong glances toward them, seemingly curious about their conversation.
“Still, I wish you’d at least consulted me about it.”
“We didn’t have time. You know how aggressive some of the saleswomen can be.”
Of course, he knew. Shuichi had been in this job for three years and had watched housewives with less experience in the business secure contract after contract, outperforming him. The assertiveness these women showed once they got on a roll was something Shuichi wasn’t capable of imitating. In fact, although his daughter attended a different cram school, he couldn’t bring himself to approach her teachers with a sales pitch.
“Besides, our insurance premiums are quite a bit lower. We’re saving fourteen thousand yen compared to staying with you.”
“But you—” Shuichi began to protest but stopped himself short. He caught himself boiling with anger, yet saying more in this state wouldn’t lead to anything productive. He didn’t come to argue.
Shuichi could have offered a cheaper insurance plan but had deliberately refrained from doing so out of consideration for Asakura’s future and his coverage needs. Besides, it was Asakura who had rejected a cheaper option, expressing his preference for a savings plan over a fixed plan. Therefore, the contract he had agreed to should have been one he was satisfied with.
If Shuichi heard the price point and the name of the competing company, he could easily figure out the exact pitch the agent used to persuade Asakura to switch, as well as the type of insurance he switched to. That was why he felt the strong urge to say something. But since he had always stuck to a policy of not bad-mouthing the competition, he elected to hold his tongue.
“If you’ve reconsidered your insurance needs, I’m certain we can offer a more affordable option—”
Frowning, Asakura cut him off. “I’m sorry, Okada-san. I have to go to class. Anyway, we already made the switch, and I don’t intend to switch back. We value our relationships too, and we can’t afford to sever ties with the parent of one of our students. You understand. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the situation is the same for the other teachers. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
He then bowed his head, as if appealing for understanding, and stood up from his seat.
Shuichi thought about insisting once more but decided against it. Despite leaving the office to escape Wakiya’s reprimand, he knew from the outset that the situation was hopeless. He understood that his dropping into the school after they’d canceled their insurance wouldn’t lead to them saying, “Well, in that case, we’ll switch back!”
Doing his utmost to calm himself, Shuichi forced a smile across his face. “I understand. It’s unfortunate, but I appreciate your business. If there’s anything that I can help you with in the future, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He knew there likely wouldn’t be a next time, and if there were, the chances of him still being in this job were slim.
A hint of relief floated across Asakura’s face.
Once Shuichi was outside the school, he let out a deep sigh.
The cell phone in his chest pocket was vibrating. He assumed it would be Wakiya, but it was his wife, Yuko. He answered the phone, still roiling with frustration.
“What is it? I’m working.”
Yuko began, regardless, “You didn’t forget, did you? We have a meeting today at school about Yumeka.”
Shuichi detected a hint of irritation in her voice. He hastily glanced at his watch. It had completely slipped his mind that she had asked him to attend the meeting at Yumeka’s school, and he lied in the spur of the moment.
“I know, I know, but I’m a little busy right now. I can’t just leave in the middle of work.”
“Don’t you think I know that? If you couldn’t make it, I wish you would have told me, that’s all. I can go alone.”
Shuichi clicked his tongue softly, careful not to be heard on the other end. If that was her plan, she should have told him so from the beginning instead of asking him to go along.
“Sure, go listen to what they have to say.”
“Okay. Oh, and did you send payment for our trip?”
Shuichi faltered for an answer. “Not . . . yet.”
“Will you make sure to do it? If we don’t pay by next week, our reservation will be canceled.”
“Right. By the way . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Nah, it’s nothing. Anyway, thanks for going.”
Just before he ended the call, he heard Yuko sigh on the other end.
He felt sorry for Yuko, who had been looking forward to her first visit to Paris, but circumstances had changed since they’d planned the trip. The funds set aside for the trip—actually, an amount several times more than that—had to be returned to the company.
The thought of having to explain this to her weighed heavily on his heart.
He had an inkling of what the meeting might be about. His daughter, Yumeka, had stopped going to school shortly after the new semester had begun.
Shuichi glanced at his watch again. If he took a taxi, he would likely arrive about twenty minutes late. He might still be able to make a brief appearance. He stopped alongside the street and watched the flow of traffic. Just then, he spotted a taxi coming from about a hundred meters behind him. He raised his hand to flag it down, but it turned left at the intersection just before reaching him.
He sucked his teeth.
He decided to walk to a busier road and make a call on the way. He had noticed an incoming call notification when he answered Yuko’s call earlier. The call was from his mother, Tamiko, who lived alone in the countryside.
His mother rarely called unless she had a very good reason. Though he couldn’t fathom what it might be, he had a feeling it wasn’t good news.
