Rental Person Who Does Nothing by Shoji Morimoto

“People can die because of the stress of adapting to society. Or they can lose every ounce of their energy. I’ve seen it happen. If people are pressured by society into saying they have particular abilities, then the true value they have as themselves becomes blurred. If you say you have value because you can do particular things, you will always be judged by established social standards. So I never say I can do anything. And I don’t do anything.”

This book tells a fascinating story about a man trying to navigate Japanese society—a place full of both spoken and unspoken rules. Morimoto wanted to be a writer, telling interesting stories, but after taking a corporate job, he found it unbearable. The endless pressure to produce the same perfect thing over and over again drained him.

As he puts it:
“People can die because of the stress of adapting to society. Or they can lose every ounce of their energy. I’ve seen it happen. If people are pressured by society into saying they have particular abilities, then the true value they have as themselves becomes blurred. If you say you have value because you can do particular things, you will always be judged by established social standards. So I never say I can do anything. And I don’t do anything.”

This statement hits even harder when you learn that his sister took her own life after failing to secure the job she wanted. He mentions this multiple times, and you can tell it shaped his entire philosophy. To protect himself from that kind of pressure, he created strict rules for his work as a Rental Person Who Does Nothing: no deep conversations, no advice, just simple responses like “yes” or “interesting.” His role is to exist—nothing more.

“I’d like the world to be one where even if people can’t do anything for others, even if they can make no contribution to society, they can still live stress-free lives. This is very important to me because of the gap that exists between the value that I sense in people and the value assigned to them by society.”

An Experiment in Doing Nothing

The whole idea started after his wife came across a blog post by therapist and self-help writer Jinnosuke Kokoroya that said, “People have value even if they do nothing.” That phrase made Morimoto stop and think. Was it really true? And if it was, did society actually have space for people who do nothing? After all, he had spent years hearing things like, “It makes no difference whether you’re here or not,” and “You’re a permanent vacancy.” So, he decided to put it to the test.

He posted on Twitter, offering to rent himself out as a person who does nothing. And it took off. His Twitter following grew from 300 to over 100,000, and now it’s close to half a million. You’d think this would mean he reached his original goal—he’s collecting interesting stories, exactly what he wanted to do as a writer.

But the real question is: can he keep doing this long-term? He has a wife and child, and right now, they’re living off his savings from his time as a trader. What happens when the money runs out?

“I charge a voluntary fee, so I don’t know if it will be sustainable, but I’m having fun trying to see if it’s sustainable,” said Morimoto, who added that his goal was not to make a living or sustain himself but to “simply live life and enjoy it.”

I’m not convinced.

Loneliness and Connection

But he touches on something really important: loneliness. In our hyper-connected world—especially after COVID—it’s so much harder to actually connect with people. And yet, we all know:

“Things can be different simply because someone is there. They don’t have to be there, but if they are, something changes.”

For me, the idea itself really resonates. I love going out with my friends, but I don’t know if I’d always go out if I had to do everything alone. Just having someone there, even if they don’t actively do anything, changes the experience.

Doing things together gives them a different kind of value. It’s not just about the activity itself—it’s about the presence of the person you’re with. Their humor, their perspective, even their silence—it all makes the moment feel more meaningful.

Why We Open Up to Strangers More Than Friends

One of the most interesting insights from the book is how we often find it easier to talk to strangers than to our own friends. Morimoto explains it well:

“With friends, a conversation generally stays within expected parameters… Every named relationship entails particular things you have to do, certain expectations that you have to meet.”

This really made me think. I like order. I like rules. They make life easier, even if I might seem like a rebel. Rules give me a sense of structure—unless, of course, they’re stupid. And I completely get what he’s saying about expectations. Friendships come with unspoken obligations. If a friend confides in you, you feel like you should give advice. If they tell you they’re struggling, you feel like you should help them fix it.

But sometimes, you don’t want advice—you just want to vent. And that’s why so many of us hesitate to share certain thoughts with our closest friends. Honestly, I don’t think there’s a single person in the world who knows everything about me. And weirdly, that brings me peace.

At the same time, I wonder why we hold things back. For me, it’s simple: I don’t want to be a burden. Everyone already has their own 99 problems. Why add mine?

I strongly encourage everyone to cry with AI. It’s available 24/7, it won’t judge, and with the right prompt, it’ll listen without trying to “fix” anything. In a way, I think Rental Person Who Does Nothing is just the human version of that—someone who offers presence without expectation.

The Beauty of Small Moments

Two requests from clients really stood out to me.

One was from a newly employed graduate who just wanted Morimoto to sit and think about her. That’s it. No conversation, no interaction, just the knowledge that someone out there was thinking of her. That hit me. It says so much about how deeply we crave acknowledgment, even in the simplest ways.

The second was from a client who struggled with eating in front of others. Her boss expected her to attend a New Year’s party, but the thought of eating with colleagues was overwhelming. She booked Morimoto’s service, not for advice, but simply to share her struggle in a judgment-free space. After that, she found the courage to open up to her boss and friends about her condition. To her surprise, everyone was considerate and supportive. This moment really showed how sometimes, just saying something out loud to someone neutral can help us process things and take action. It’s proof that even the smallest interactions can create meaningful change.

Final Thoughts

This book isn’t just a collection of unusual encounters—it’s a quiet rebellion against a world that demands constant productivity and measurable success. Morimoto proves that just being can be enough. And in a world where people are constantly pressured to justify their existence through work or achievements, that message feels more important than ever.

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Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

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All the Lovers in the Night by Mieko Kawakami