Walk into a large Japanese office and you might see him. He’s sitting by the window, sipping tea or scrolling on his phone. Sometimes he stares out quietly, sometimes he chats endlessly with coworkers. He’s not new, he’s not confused—he’s been with the company for decades. In Japan, people have a name for this figure: the “madogiwa-zoku,” or “the window-side tribe.” And according to a recent survey, nearly half of Japan’s big companies have one of these “old men who does nothing.”
The survey was carried out by the Tokyo-based consulting firm Shikigaku. They asked 300 employees between the ages of 20 and 39 who all worked at companies with more than 300 staff. The question was simple: “Is there an old guy who doesn’t work at your company?” An astonishing 49.2 percent said yes.
But if these older employees aren’t working, what are they doing all day? The answers painted a vivid picture. Almost 50 percent of respondents said the men were often taking breaks to smoke or snack. Another 47.7 percent said they were seen staring off into space, while 47.3 percent noticed them idle chatting with colleagues. A smaller group, about 35.3 percent, reported they spent time browsing the internet.
Some employees even shared more extreme stories. One 34-year-old woman recalled a man who would take a 30-minute cigarette break, follow it with a 30-minute bathroom break, and then head out for another smoke—while insisting he had no time to work.
“I only play mobile games.”
Another worker said they overheard one of these men admit.
Someone else recalled hearing, “I’m just talking wastefully and my hands aren’t moving.”
The survey didn’t stop there. Shikigaku also asked why people thought these “window-side” workers had ended up like this. Forty-five percent believed they simply had no desire to work anymore. Another 41 percent blamed the traditional Japanese system where salaries rise with seniority, not performance, making it possible to coast after years in the company.
Meanwhile, 26.3 percent suspected these men were simply not trusted enough to be given real responsibilities. Other answers pointed to weak management, unclear rules about dismissal, and a lack of strong incentives to keep them motivated.
The effect on the workplace was another important part of the study. More than 90 percent of employees said these older workers had a negative impact. About 59.7 percent reported lower morale among staff, 49 percent said it forced others to take on extra work, and 35.3 percent thought it was a direct financial burden for the company to keep them around. Many employees felt frustrated, stuck between showing respect for their elders and carrying the weight of extra tasks.
Interestingly, when asked if the same pattern applied to women, 47 percent said there was also an “obasan” — an older woman — who did little or no work. The most common answer for these women was that they spent time chatting.
Behind all these numbers is a cultural dilemma. In Japan, lifetime employment and seniority have long been part of the social contract. Companies often keep older workers on payroll not because they are still needed, but because pushing them out would be seen as dishonorable or disrespectful after years of service. The practice preserves dignity, but it also raises big questions about fairness, efficiency, and the future of work.
The story of the “madogiwa-zoku” isn’t just about laziness. It’s about tradition colliding with modern business pressures. Younger employees see rising workloads and unfair pay gaps, while older employees may feel sidelined but safe. Some argue for stronger performance reviews and clearer rules. Others suggest creating new roles where senior employees can pass on experience as mentors instead of sitting idle.
For now, the “old man by the window” remains both a symbol of loyalty and a source of frustration. He reflects Japan’s respect for age and service, but also the challenges of adapting workplaces to balance dignity with productivity in a rapidly changing world.