Janson (Quinton)

At 8 a.m. every Wednesday, my team in Tokyo has a Zoom call with our team in Salt Lake City, Utah. For them, it's Tuesday at 4 p.m. After three years, our side started a shared file. The title: "Things the Utah team does that we still don't understand." They said I could share some of it. "The first five minutes are about nothing. Weather. Somebody's dog. Somebody's kid's soccer game. Our manager timed it once. Five minutes and forty seconds, every week. He used to call it waste. Now he logs on early so he won't miss it." "A three-year-old walked into the frame and announced he had used the potty by himself. Fourteen adults in Utah cheered. Our manager said 'Congratulations' in English. Best moment of the quarter." "When someone shares an idea, three people unmute just to say 'Love it.' In three years, our side had never unmuted for anything but a problem. Mr. Hoshino now says 'Love it' at home. His wife is suspicious." "Kenzie ends every call with 'You guys are crushing it.' We were not crushing it. We were six weeks behind. She said it anyway. Every week. We caught up in five." "They sang Happy Birthday to our oldest engineer at 4:57 p.m. their time. Three minutes before they could go home. Fourteen people. Wildly off-key. He is 61. He said nobody had sung it to him since he was a boy." The last entry is about Mizuki. Mizuki is our youngest engineer. He's so quiet that Utah once asked if his camera was a photo. In March, as a call was ending, after everyone had said bye, he typed one small line in the chat: "My son was born yesterday." Then he left the meeting. The next Wednesday, Mizuki logged on, and fourteen cameras in Utah turned on at once. Every single person was holding a sheet of paper. On each one, in marker, copied off the internet: おめでとう. Congratulations. One of them was upside down. Nobody fixed it. Fourteen days later, our office got a package. Inside was a tiny onesie with the shape of Utah on it. Fourteen signatures on the box. His son is eight months old. He has never been outside Japan. He has fourteen aunts and uncles in Utah who have never held him. Every week, they ask how he's doing. First five minutes.