Middle-aged Japanese men may not be high on most people’s list of potential life coaches. Even their slang name, ossan, is a little unkind, describing men of a certain vintage whose reward for decades on the frontline of Japan’s successful economy is mockery – for their poor dress sense, fleeting acquaintance with personal grooming and devotion to work at the expense of family life (although they have little choice).
But Takanobu Nishimoto, a fashion consultant in his early 50s, is on a mission to help his male peers regain their honour. As the creator of Ossan Rental, he has built up a stable of about 70 men from different backgrounds who, for a token fee of 1,000 yen (£6.70) an hour, will meet clients and dispense advice on everything from personal finance to losing weight and dealing with annoying colleagues.
Nishimoto, who launched the service in 2012 after tiring of seeing high-school girls poke fun at ossan on the train, suggests I speak to Mr Shimada and Mr Kageyama for a pep talk. His clients usually talk to their mentors face to face, but as a powerful typhoon sweeps through Tokyo on the day we are due to meet, we speak over the phone.
Shimada, whose profile photo shows a stylish, moustachioed man in his early 60s, dressed in a chalk-striped suit and fedora, specialises in making household incomes stretch a little further. I am all ears. His top tip: arrange for a modest sum to go into a savings account every month. “If you earmark, say, 20,000 yen, you’ll be forced to economise elsewhere,” he says.
I’m not fretting about retirement (just yet), but when that time comes, he says, I should invest in a suburban flat and banish any thoughts of spending my dotage in bucolic surroundings. “The older you get, the more you value the convenience of city life,” he advises, apparently unperturbed that he might be contributing to Japan’s rural depopulation problem.
I’m taken aback, too, by their response to my main question: how to achieve a better work-life balance.
Shimada got up at 4.30am for the 40 years he worked at a bank and believes I should be doing the same. “Relax at the weekend,” he says. Kageyama’s silver quiff, colourful shirts and cats point to a fun-loving disposition. Can he suggest a less labour-intensive approach to time and stress management?
It appears not. “People are always complaining that they have so little time, but they’re not using their time properly,” he says. I admit that may be my problem. To which he responds: “How about sleeping less?”
