The “deliciously wrong” dining experience
Imagine a restaurant in Tokyo where your server might bring you gyoza instead of the steak you ordered. If this happened at a typical bistro, there would be shouting, demands for a refund, and a scathing 1-star review on Google.
But at the “Restaurant of Mistaken Orders,” everyone is smiling. All the servers live with dementia. The restaurant’s philosophy is simple: the staff may or may not get your order right, and the customers are expected to accept the outcome with a big heart and a laugh. I was moved when I heard this news—not just out of human compassion, but because it perfectly illustrates a marketing truth I’ve long suspected: In the modern age, people don’t choose products for their value; they choose them for their meaning.
The jam theory and the death of “differentiation”
For decades, marketers have obsessed over “differentiation.” But in a world overflowing with information and identical services, true differentiation is a myth. If you launch a chair with a 5% lighter frame today, a competitor will launch one 7% lighter tomorrow.
Furthermore, as the famous “Jam Study” proves, people are paralyzed by too many choices. We’ve reached a point where nobody can tell—or cares about—the microscopic differences in quality between two top-tier brands. Our furniture at CondeHouse is undeniably high-quality, but let’s be honest: our competitors are also doing their best. In a race of “Better, Faster, Cheaper,” everyone eventually loses.
The picture book paradox: Buying the “Who,” not the “What”
Consider this: A picture book was sold at two different price points. The more expensive version included a small donation to children in need. Despite being “irrationally” pricier, it outsold the cheaper one significantly. Why? Because the customers weren’t buying paper and ink; they were buying the meaning of their purchase.
This is the future of business. Why do your customers choose you? In an era where human connection is becoming a luxury, they choose you because of your personality. They want to pay the person, not the product.
I’m not trying to brag about my own charm here (though I’m sure my old GSDF “guerrilla” rivals from the previous article would have a few choice words about my “personality”). But I do hope you resonate with the character of our company: a slightly stubborn, eco-conscious, faithful group of artisans. We don’t just want to sell you a “perfect” chair; we want to provide a piece of furniture that means something to your life. Even if we occasionally get the “order” of the future slightly wrong, we promise the resulting “meal” will be unforgettable.
From a purely “rational” perspective, an art chair featuring a virtual singer might be seen as a “mistaken order” for a traditional furniture company. It defies conventional differentiation and challenges the standard definition of “luxury.” But for those who find meaning in the intersection of subculture and craftsmanship, this chair is a masterpiece of intention. Much like the restaurant in Tokyo, it’s not about getting the “standard” right; it’s about creating a unique connection that resonates with your personality. Why settle for a “perfect” chair that means nothing, when you can sit on a “bold” chair that tells the world exactly who you are?

Source: https://forbesjapan.com/articles/detail/16640

Shungo Ijima
Global Connector | Reformed Bureaucrat | Professional Over-Thinker
After years of navigating the rigid hallways of Japan’s Ministry of Finance and surviving an MBA, he made a life-changing realization: spreadsheets are soulless, and wood has much better stories to tell.
Currently an Executive at CondeHouse, he travels the world decoding the “hidden DNA” of Japanese culture—though, in his travels, he’s becoming increasingly more skilled at decoding how to find the cheapest hotels than actual cultural mysteries.
He has a peculiar talent for finding deep philosophical meaning in things most people ignore as meaningless (and to be fair, they are often actually meaningless). He doesn’t just sell furniture; he’s on a mission to explain Japan to the world, one intellectually over-analyzed observation at a time. He writes for the curious, the skeptical, and anyone who suspects that a chair might actually be a manifesto in disguise.
Follow his journey as he bridges the gap between high-finance logic and the chaotic art of living!

