The Productivity Killer: Why Japan’s “Do You Have a Minute?” Is the Most Disruptive Question in Office History

The scenery of a Japanese common office with gray desks and cabinets
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The surveillance culture: Why I came back to the office against the times

Do we still need an office? This discussion is livelier than ever since remote work became common due to COVID-19. Proponents of working from home argue convincingly for its benefits: improved productivity through concentration, and reduced stress from office relationships.

Prior to COVID, my job involved constant business trips, meaning I was rarely in the office. It’s a truly human paradox that, I used to work almost entirely remotely, but now I’m back here in the office, completely against the grain of the current trend.

Let’s first understand the basic layout of a typical Japanese office. Customarily, desks are arranged in confrontational rows, with executive desks closely facing their team members. Private rooms are extremely rare. This arrangement is rooted in the deep-seated Japanese value of “Wa” (harmony), requiring visual confirmation of everyone’s efforts. To put it politely, it’s an open-space community; to put it realistically (from my viewpoint), it’s a prison under mutual surveillance.

The death of the “Minute”: The most annoying question in Japanese offices

This is where the Japanese office environment becomes a productivity black hole. The phone is ringing constantly somewhere; people are talking loudly around your desk; and then, someone approaches you, throwing out the most meaningless question in the world: “Do you have a minute? (Ima, chotto ii desu ka?)”

I want to scream this out loud: What is the point of that question?

That conversation rarely, if ever, ends in a single minute. Furthermore, by initiating the question, the person is forcing you to make an immediate cognitive shift—moving your brain from deep work to social judgment—before the actual work request even begins. It’s a courtesy that acts as a profound act of aggression against focus. This incessant stream of noise and interruption, framed by forced politeness, is the biggest barrier to productivity in this environment.

A woody office room with wooden ceiling, tables, and chairs.
This is the personal booth of CondeHouse Tokyo office, for people who want to focus.

Fighting the loneliness disease: The value of flexible design

Having complained extensively about working in the office, I should confess I didn’t mean to deny its value completely. The truth is, the period of COVID made me keenly aware of the importance of human connection. Loneliness is a deadly disease, and perhaps we need to work in the office to avoid it.

However, maintaining a reasonable distance between colleagues is equally vital for a good environment. Today, I can offer you a good solution—a design that balances connection and concentration.

The images above are of our Tokyo office. My favorite part is its diversity. You can be alone and deeply absorb yourself in something in the semi-private, partitioned areas. Conversely, you can communicate closely with colleagues in the open areas when you’re feeling lonely to death. This flexible design allows the individual to choose the right setting for their task and emotional state. This, I sincerely hope, will be the new standard for Japanese offices.

The Hokkaido reality: Seeking strategic escape

The problem? The headquarters office where I currently work—here in Hokkaido—is still a typical Japanese office: confronting desks, minimal privacy, and relentless “Do you have a minute?” interruptions. It’s totally different from the Tokyo office.

As someone who has embraced the organization theory of the Lazy Ant (as I wrote previously), I realize the critical need for “slack time” and undistracted deep work. The only strategic solution is a change of scenery.

Perhaps I need to ask our sales team to buy me a ticket to Tokyo. It’s not a business trip; it’s simply organizational resilience requiring my strategic, productive absence. (Ah, the excuses we make for better concentration!)


A corporate logo, the letters of C and H are combined to look like a tree in a circle

Shungo Ijima

He is travelling around the world. His passion is to explain Japan to the world, from the unique viewpoint accumulated through his career: overseas posting, MBA holder, former official of the Ministry of Finance.


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