The “prophet” of small business
I am not a Christian, but I have a soft spot for Proverbs 31:8: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.”
I happen to be very good at—and quite fond of—spinning logical-sounding “nonsense” or “sophistry.” I like to think I’m using this talent to be a voice for the voiceless. Perhaps that sounds a bit too heroic, but I’ve decided to take on that mission anyway. The irony is that, looking at my blog’s current traffic, this very article is becoming a “voiceless cry” itself. So, if you find this interesting, please do me a favor and share it!
The enemy of the state?
Let’s talk about the “invisible 99%.” In Japan, small and medium enterprises (SMEs) like us make up 99.7% of all companies. Yet, if you listen to the government’s advisory boards, you’d think we were the villains of a tragic economic drama. These “experts” often treat SMEs like the main cause of Japan’s low productivity. They look at their spreadsheets and say, “SMEs don’t pay enough, therefore they are inefficient.”
I strongly object. In fact, I think they have the cause and effect completely backward.
Big corporations look productive because they have the luxury of market power and deep pockets. But as someone who has worked in those “giants,” I can tell you: SMEs are far more desperate. For us, productivity isn’t a line on a quarterly report; it’s a life-or-death struggle. We don’t have the luxury of wasting a single second.
The $1 solution
The world knows the word “Kaizen” (continuous improvement), but it’s often taught in MBA classes as a sterile corporate philosophy. In our factory, Kaizen is much more primitive—and much more brilliant.
For example, in our upholstery factory, craftspeople very often use electric drills and staple guns. On the edge of the shelves, there are white holders for the electric drills and staple guns Those aren’t expensive industrial components. They are hair dryer holders from a one-dollar store.
One of our upholstery craftswomen came up with this idea while shopping on her day off. She realized that by mounting these holders, she could shave seconds off her workflow, eliminating the need to constantly switch hands or reach across her workbench.
Innate brilliance vs. artificial incentives
Every year, our staff submits over 1,000 “Kaizen” proposals. Do they do it for the small monetary incentives we offer? Hardly. They do it because a true craftsperson has an innate, almost obsessive hatred for wasted movement.
This is the “Extraordinary within the Ordinary” that the government’s ivory-tower advisors fail to see. They can’t measure the value of a dollar-store hair dryer holder in their GDP calculations. They don’t see the woman who, even while shopping for her home, is thinking about how to make her upholstery work more seamless.
Flickering in the wind
Japanese craftsmanship is currently “flickering in the wind” of unjust criticism. We are constantly told to scale up or disappear. But productivity isn’t just about company size or capital—it’s about the relentless accumulation of tiny, genius improvements.
We might be an “SME” by definition, but our obsession with quality and cost-reduction is anything but small. So, to the government advisors: Keep your spreadsheets. We’ll keep our dollar-store hacks and our world-class furniture.
A masterpiece isn’t born from a massive factory budget; it’s born from thousands of tiny, relentless improvements. Our “Hatsune Miku Art Chair” is the result of this very spirit—where traditional techniques are constantly refined by the “Kaizen” soul of our workers. It may look like a pop-culture icon, but beneath the surface, it carries the efficiency and precision of a team that fights for every millimeter. Why not own a chair that represents the “Desperate Perfection” of the Japanese SME spirit? You’ll be supporting the “voice” of craftsmanship in the most comfortable way possible.


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!

