By Yumiko Ono Staff Rrporter of The Wall Street Journal
TOKYO - In his last 10 years with Mitusubishi Corp., Yasuhiko Ushiba got lots
of experience- twiddling his thumbs.
Posted in a "planning promotion group." he was given no assignments by he
giant trading company. When he tried proposing projects, the plans were thrown
back in his face. So Mr. Ushiba hung out at the zoo and took in triple' features
at adult movie theaters. All the while his pay checks- about ＄85,000 a year-kept
sailing in.
The message from management was, you can stay here if you want to. but we're
not going to give you any work to do."says .the 55 year-old Mr. Ushiba. who
eventually quit to start a consulting company. "What could be worse for a person
than being ignored?."
Mr. Ushiba had been shown the "window' seat," as the Japanese say ,of
unneeded middle-aged workers who have been shunted aside. Sitting by the windows
a form of welfare under Japan's lifetime-employment system. which often leaves
senior employees on the payroll with little or nothing to do.With the average
age of Japan's population rising ,and the economy still in the tank ,there is
now more Window Sitting,than ever .Fuji Bank's research arm figures Japanese
offices and factories are carrying the equivalent of one million redundant
employees. Sign of the times: One secretary recently wrote to a magaine to.
complain about an office coleague .who kills time by clipping his toenails.
Mind-Numbing Jobs
Traditionally.,companies dole out window seats as a way of supporting
employees until they retire, typically at age 60. Getting branded a window
sitter is a big loss of face. but a dead -end job beats the breathline. These
days.,though.,more and more strapped businesses are mind -numbingly dull Jobs to
humiliate aging workers into quitting. A lot of window sitters are therefore
hard at work camouflaging their idleness.
"I'm the odd-job man." shrugs a
fiftylsh Tokyo office worker as he boards a train. toting a bag full of prizes
he bought for the office bowlig tournament. At a textile company. one window
sitter in his 40s spends his days writing signs urging co-workers to shut doors
properly.
Takeo Fukuda, a 54-year-old employee of a construction company,
says each week he puts in a half day at a Tokyo public library to"analyze public
information."
Sometimes he writes reports on "current trends," on the chance a colleague
might find them useful. By 3 p.m. on a recent chilly afternoon, he knows the
day's news-paper headlines by heart.
"You have to create work on your own.," Mr. Fukuda chirps during a 40-minute
chat outside the library. In a burst of candor he admits he is a window sitter,
but insists he is more industrious than others of his kind. "Look at all those
people sleeping iu the library." he says, peering into the window. "What a waste
of time.
im -a sign of a window seat. Secretaries whispered behind his back, asking what his job was. What come down five years ago when he commanded 40-member overseas parts devision.
