manynovel Chapter 331 Hard Landing
Chapter 331 Hard Landing
(Thanks to "Day and Night Dream" for the Gift King award! Thank you for your support! Thank you to "Nuomi's Romance" for the Master certification! Thank you to "Sanzi Xianjian" for the Master certification! Three chapters today~)
There are fewer seats in the lobby of Nomura Securities' Shinjuku branch.
To be precise, the number of seats has not decreased—it's still the same batch of blue-gray benches from last year, four rows, twelve seats per row.
But less than a third of the people sitting on it remained.
Masao Tanaka entered the hall at 9:07 a.m.
Seven minutes have passed since the market opened. The numbers on the price chart are fluctuating, all red, patches of red.
Last year—when was last year? December?
When the price list is all red, the salesperson standing in the middle of the hall has to shout at the top of their lungs to quell the surrounding chatter.
Some people were smoking cigarettes, some were banging on the table, and some rushed to the counter to "add another 500,000."
The stack of paper cups next to the coffee machine meant that last year, even changing the coffee powder three times a day wasn't enough.
The coffee machine is still there, but the powder container is full.
At 10 a.m., Tanaka poured himself a cup. When he picked up the paper cup, the inside was still a little sticky—it had been sitting for too long.
He didn't tell his wife.
Every morning at 7:45, he puts on his leather shoes, picks up his briefcase, and leaves the house.
The briefcase contained a copy of the Nikkei newspaper and a rice ball made by his wife.
He never ate in the lobby. He would always go to the stairwell around 11:30 a.m. when there were the fewest people, eat his seaweed standing up, pick off any crumbs, and then return to his seat.
His wife assumed he went out every day to see his former colleagues.
Retired seniors are all like that; they get together with three or five people to drink coffee or play golf.
But he didn't have any golf clubs left. He put them up for sale at a secondhand store last month for 70,000 yuan.
I entered the market at 36,000 points.
That's what the sales clerk, whose name he couldn't remember, said—
"Mr. Tanaka, with your thirty years of experience in the trading company, you must know this better than anyone else. Japanese land and stocks will only rise, not fall."
He believed it. To be precise, he watched NTT rise, Mitsubishi Estate rise, and Mitsui Fudosan rise.
He took out 14 million from his retirement pension from his trading company and mortgaged his house to raise 23 million.
Fully invested in Nikkei 225 constituent stocks.
The Nikkei reported a high of 21,800 at the opening bell today.
He did the math in his head.
The principal was 23 million, and the market value is now around 4.9 million.
We lost 18.1 million.
Ha... and there's still the mortgage.
The price chart jumped again, and Nomura's stock price dropped by 60 yen.
Masao Tanaka looked away from the screen and took a sip of the coffee that was stuck to the side of his cup.
It was cold and sour. He had never tasted such awful coffee.
At 3 PM, the closing bell rang.
It dropped another 320 points.
Well, how much did I lose this time?
...Never mind, I'll just ignore it.
It was very windy on the streets of Shinjuku; it was late October and a bit chilly.
He switched the briefcase to his left hand and put his right hand into his pocket, but bumped into the rice ball wrapper he had forgotten to throw away.
When I passed the south entrance of the station, there were twenty or thirty people queuing in front of a UNIQLO store.
A large poster was pasted on the shop window—"Autumn/Winter Fleece Collection. 1900 yen."
In October, when all the shops were closed, there were still shops with long queues.
He didn't stop, just glanced at it and left.
When I get home, I'll say, "I had a great chat with my old colleague today."
He has practiced this sentence more than a hundred times.
……
5:40 PM, Ginza 6-chome. Club Étoile.
As Yunako squatted behind the bar to check the freezers, her knee throbbed.
The sound started this spring. She's forty-three, and her knees are more honest than the ledger.
She straightened up and clipped the freezer list back onto the filing board.
Two bottles of Yamazaki 18-year-old beer remain. Last year at the same time, we always had eight bottles on hand.
It's been running for seventeen years, and it's full. Nobody ordered it.
On the contrary, three cases of large-bottle flask whisky were replenished, which is the most popular item since the guests switched to drinking diluted whisky.
The schedule of hostesses was posted on the inner wall. Of the fifteen names, eight had already been crossed out in red pen.
The list of regular customers is also shrinking. The branch manager of Sanyu Bank, Murakami, who used to come every Tuesday and Thursday, now only calls every ten days.
"Yunako, let's go next month. I'm short on cash lately... you know what I mean."
She understands.
She has lowered the minimum spending requirement from 35,000 to 28,000.
But the rent didn't go down.
Yunako took out the black-covered ledger, sat on the high stool at the end of the bar, and opened it.
From the first to the third week of October, turnover decreased by 38% compared to the same period last year.
The purchase of alcoholic beverages was reduced by 40%, but the profit margin was actually 2% thinner than before—because the high-priced items were reduced and the volume-selling items were increased, so the gross profit structure was completely reversed.
The pen tip paused for three seconds on the line for "rent".
One million two hundred thousand.
She closed the ledger.
Seven girls arrived one after another. Yunako stood at the entrance of the changing room and glanced around.
"We might have three groups of guests today." Her voice was steady. "Xiaoye is in charge of the construction company president in VIP room number one. Remember, if he starts using words like 'civil regeneration'—don't respond, just pour him a drink and let him finish."
Xiaoye nodded.
"The managing director of Box 2 replaced the Yamazaki 18-year-old with the Kakubin Mizuki last time."
"Don't ask why, and don't show any expression. Just serve him whatever he orders."
There was a moment of silence.
"And that independent girl." Yunako's voice lowered by half an octave. "The one who works at the real estate company. Her company closed down last month, and she always just orders the cheapest cocktail and sits there until closing time. — I'll give her a plate of edamame, it's on me. Don't tell anyone."
6:55.
Yunako returned to the sink and applied another layer of lipstick in front of the mirror.
Her lips were a little dry—it was autumn. She screwed the cap back on her lipstick and put it in the drawer.
When the economy is good, they create a lively atmosphere. The hall is filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the sound of business cards being exchanged.
Now they're selling ears.
The guests stayed longer, talked more, and the topics of conversation changed.
We used to talk about golf, our Hawaiian vacation, and our newly bought Lexus.
Now we talk about company matters—"We might have to lay off two hundred people." We talk about insomnia—"I haven't had a full night's sleep in three months." We talk about things we wouldn't normally tell outsiders.
At least let them be here, so that someone can listen to them.
It's exactly 7 o'clock.
Yunako walked to the door and turned over the wooden sign that read "Preparing".
"Open for business".
……
The day Yamada found Takahashi was in a valley.
4:15 a.m., valley in Taitung District.
When Gaoqiao arrived, there were already more than a hundred people standing under the streetlights.
It was still dark. In the early morning of late October, the perceived temperature was around nine degrees Celsius.
Takahashi was wearing a faded work jacket with a broken zipper held together by a safety pin. On his feet were a pair of torn safety boots, with a corner of the gray steel toe of the left boot peeking out.
He was number one—he counted—the 113th.
These are people looking for short-term work.
The bread truck will arrive around five o'clock.
One, two, occasionally three. Each vehicle carries eight to ten people.
In other words, those who rank outside the top 30 are basically relying on luck.
One hundred and thirteen.
He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.
On the left is an old man in his fifties with yellowish-brown teeth who keeps coughing.
On the right is a younger man wearing a dark blue jacket that looks like a company uniform, with the logo of a bankrupt company embroidered on the collar.
No one spoke.
The day Takahashi's company went bankrupt was August 29th.
The foreman stood outside the construction site fence for three minutes, said "I'm sorry," and then turned and left.
Takahashi still regrets not stopping that car.
He didn't receive any severance pay, not even his last two weeks' wages.
Takahashi went to the Labor Standards Inspection Office, waited in line for two hours, and received a receipt that said "Please wait for notification." There has been no further news since.
I went to the employment agency for three days straight, and waited in line for each day. The person at the window looked through the ledger, and they all said the same thing: "There are currently no vacancies in the construction industry."
He didn't quite understand the numbers in the "Request for Persons" column on the table.
All he knew was that there were more people ahead of him in line than behind him.
At 5:03, the first van arrived. It was a white Toyota Hiace with a company name he didn't recognize painted on it.
The car window rolled down, and the driver leaned out halfway: "Six needed, those who can tie scaffolding have priority."
The people in front shouted and surged forward frantically.
Takahashi didn't move. He knew how to tie scaffolding, but he was number 113 in line, so it wasn't his turn.
At 5:11, the second vehicle arrived. They ordered eight.
At 5:30, there was no third vehicle.
The rest of the people began to disperse. A few walked towards the park, where there were public restrooms and vending machines.
Takahashi squatted under the streetlight, took out half a cigarette left over from the day before yesterday from his pocket, and tried to light it three times with a lighter.
That was the day Yamada found him.
Takahashi had met Yamada a few times when he worked at his previous company.
He's not very tall, around forty years old, and always smiles before speaking. It's not a polite smile, but rather as if he's confirming the other person's reaction.
He used to be a subcontractor for the company, and he managed dozens of people.
"Takahashi, right?" Yamada squatted down next to him and offered him a new cigarette. "I heard you've completed a grouting skills course and got certified, and you also passed the Level 2 Civil Engineering exam?"
Takahashi took the cigarette but didn't light it.
"On the day your company went bankrupt, I took a copy of the employee roster."
"I screened over two hundred people for three weeks. Less than forty were usable."
Yamada looked at Takahashi, who was squatting on the ground.
"There's a job. It's at the Saionji construction site. Monthly payment, cash on the 15th, no delays." Yamada's voice wasn't loud. "Lunch is included, one day off per week. I'll handle the social security for you all."
Takahashi glanced at him.
"Conditions." Yamada pulled a piece of paper folded into four sections from his pocket and unfolded it. "To join the mutual aid society, you cannot be affiliated with any other guild at the same time. You cannot discuss matters within the mutual aid society with outsiders."
Takahashi took the paper and looked at it.
The text is very small, printed, and arranged neatly.
At the top it reads "Independent Labor Mutual Aid Association", and below it is a line of text: "Labor Mutual Aid Agreement of Saionji Group Affiliated Companies".
"Who is the client?" Takahashi asked.
"You don't need to care who the client is," Yamada chuckled. "All you need to care about is whether the money is in your hands by the 15th."
Takahashi now knows the answer to this question.
The money is there.
Takahashi joined the mutual aid society in the third week of September.
I've received my first paycheck so far, 216,000 yuan. It's 20,000 yuan less than my previous company, but it was paid on time.
At 3 PM on the 15th, the cash was placed in envelopes, and Yamada distributed them one by one. The envelopes were labeled with names and amounts, down to the last penny.
He doesn't read newspapers and doesn't understand anything about "total quantity regulation".
All he knew was that he was out of work, his boss had run away, and the bank wouldn't lend him money anymore.
As long as someone provides work and pays me, that's fine.
Today's construction site is in Shinagawa. After finishing work in the afternoon, Takahashi took the Keihin-Tohoku Line back to Ueno. There weren't many people in the carriage, so he stood by the door and looked at the street scene outside through the glass window.
As I passed through Shinjuku Station, the GG lightbox across the platform was lit up. It was a supermarket called "S-Mart," and the sign in GG language read "Today's Special: Pork Shoulder 100g/88 Yen."
Two lightboxes separated the poster from the Uniqlo poster. A young female model in a fleece jacket was smiling, and the price printed below was 1900 yen.
Takahashi glanced down at the work jacket he was wearing, which had a safety pin attached to it.
I got paid, let's go buy something nice.