Uspenski Cathedral, 2019
It happened on a dark freezing night — or early evening, given that it was a Nordic November where the only daylight is a depressing shade of steel blue. Sheltered from the elements, I was sitting inside a cafe at a certain Helsinki spa complex. What should have been a time to relax with a warm drink had me questioning why I came. My mind was plagued with so much that it was difficult to arrest any of my thoughts. In an attempt to keep my mind off matters, I gazed outside the glass window to stare into the darkness and met a desolate port; all that could be made out was snow and a black sea. A dive into the Gulf of Finland sounded acceptable if it meant even a second of distraction.
Three months earlier, I was onboarded as the head of sales at the Tokyo branch of a certain startup. As a college student at the time, I was excited to learn new skills, build a solid network, and ultimately line myself up for nice prospects after university. The company was at its peak: riding high on previous sales, strong media partners, and practically a blank check from HQ. Being in my final year at what you could consider a Japanese “party school”, Up to that point, I had neglected academics, squandered any effort to develop my Japanese, and totally brushed off the traditional job-hunting system in Japan. This was my only chance and hope to break into a professional career.
I was slapped with terrible news on my first day.
At the very first team meeting, I learned that we were going to cut ties with the main company and operate independently, naturally ostracizing ourselves from any support from previous contacts. I won’t go into intimate details of the affair, but this led to my first task being to salvage and rebuild our reputation from scratch. I still remember the day when I used Mailchimp to send a mass of emails to previous customers to inform them of our rebranding. I had some browser extension to track the results: a couple of hundred opened the email, but only one person replied.
After combing different co-working spaces and networking events in Shibuya, Roppongi, and in-between, I now find myself flying to Finland for Slush, the big tech event. Our team devised a plan to organize ourselves in order to maximize reach in building a new network. Some focused on searching for new partners and others investors. My “ball” was to find customers and new leads. Our new product was set to launch next quarter, already releasing a PR announcement and throwing a launch party. A time limit was a bit harrowing but I was excited to be able to travel out of the country for work and moreover, it was a challenge that I was up for. Finland has always intrigued me as a mystical place thanks to the internet; when you have Gondola, Moomin, and Linux stemming from here, there’s gotta be something in the water that I wouldn’t mind a sip of.
After a pleasant flight on Finnair, I came to realize that pretty much 80% of all inbound visitors to Finland came for Slush. Whether it was the Indian guy in front of me in passport control that I passed time in line with by shooting the bull with whatever buzzword was relevant at the time, or the immigration officer that was inspecting my passport, looking at me, and just said “Slush?” before stamping me in. We all knew what we were here for. My anticipation was on the roof during the train ride from the airport in Vantaa to the center of Helsinki.
After checking into my Airbnb, my coworkers and I went to a pizzeria for dinner. Despite shivering from the winter evening, the Tuscan ambience and rustic table warmed us up in no time. The atmosphere and pizza as it first came to our table glittered and was jaw-dropping, but then the bill came and it cost me 40 euros for dinner. the glamor suddenly hit its brakes and the whiplash brought me to a gritty reality. It sounds ridiculous to say, but this practically set the tone for things to come.
Applications to join side events mostly rejected. No one knew my company.
Ghosted when using their networking platform. A non-engineer wanting to meet a founder? To them I probably came off as someone peddling some worthless SaaS like a used car salesman.
Endless cards swapped, where I even had to have more printed, but 0 leads. The only person that seemed interested in us was this dude who probably had the hots for my male coworker — Kept texting him afterwards to hang out “one-on-one.”
Had we kept our previous branding, things might’ve gone differently.
When it doubt, get a stout
A few days into the event, I went by myself to a Mikkeller, a Danish craft beer joint, that was right across my Airbnb. A friend once took me to one in order to help quell my sorrows after being rejected by a girl. I love the one in Shibuya, even trying to get a part-time job at the one in Kanda (RIP. The burgers were amazing!) I vowed to visit and have a drink the second I spotted it on day one of my trip.
I entered inside and spotted only a pair of customers in a corner playing boardgames. I approached the bar and took a seat on a stool; starting a conversation with the bartender. He was actually an American that was acquainted with builders in the local startup scene. When I told him I was from Tokyo, though specifically sharing my affiliation with the old company name, he shared his opinions about the European-side. He seemed pretty indifferent about everything.
By coincidence, he let me in on this unofficial side event, happening that very night, that he was invited to. He was on the fence about turning up but during our talk, he suggested that we go there together. It’d be a good opportunity for leads I thought, so we met a couple of hours later.
Security was a lot more tight and the venue was decadent like the Palace of Versailles; felt like the masquerade mission in Dishonored. Swan ice sculptures everywhere, dark room with neon lights flashing, free flowing alcohol. I stuck with my new companion and we met a bunch of people, when I noticed something that kept happening.
We’d start with a handshake and get to pleasantries. I’d share what I did and so did they. Routine affair but then I would notice their eyes do a certain pattern. For a split second, it would go from eye contact, then a millisecond dart to my name tag, to then back at me. It felt that once their eyes met the company name, their eyes loosened and their demeanour became less impressed.
“Yes, I am based in Tokyo and I do these sort of things…”
*Minecraft villager hrrmmm noises*
“Yes, and how are you enjoying the night?”
*Minecraft villager hrrmmm noises*
It felt like I’d have to awkwardly pry from them to get more out of the conversation. It was as if I was making them exert too much energy and was a nuisance to them.
I’m not sure how long I lasted, but I ended with an an Irish exit. I stumbled inebriated back to my Airbnb at 11PM, trying to hold my bearings with music using my noise-cancelling earphones. Pretty normal in Japan but in hindsight, this is probably a bold move in Europe.
When I finally arrived to my Airbnb, the door was locked. My team members were all out, and no one was responding to my messages. Sloshing around confused to find a way to solve this dilemma, this absurd situation that would make Kafka chuckle compounded when a house party in a neighboring room started blasting Eminem; overloading my senses. I should’ve knocked and asked to join. Desperate, I tried to make calls to anyone on my team but no one picked up. I paced back and forth for what felt like hours in the vestibule, when one of my finally colleagues arrived.
We chatted and he asked how I was feeling. I opened up and after sharing my dissatisfaction of developments so far, he advised me to keep it all to myself.
I worked with some great people, but at that moment I truly felt that I was on my own. I was the newest member on the team, the rest having an established working relationship. I was the newcomer.
Coincidentally, the next day we decided to go for some R&R at a Finnish sauna and pool, right on Helsinki’s South Harbor. We hopped on electric scooters and rode through the darkness, passing by Senate Square and an Orthodox Cathedral; Cry of Fear really captured a Northern European city at night.
There were four of us at the sauna complex. There was my partner, the guy who told me to keep my disappointment to myself, and someone else.
My partner was alright. we relatively hit our goals back in Tokyo and we got along well. He’s pretty much an aristocrat and reminded me of Roy Earle from L.A. Noire; can do his job but isn’t afraid to sly around to get by. He would shove one under the bus if it presented itself as objectively the best option to get the job done. It seemed to me, the only person in the entire world that was pure to him was his little sister in elementary school.
The guy that told me to keep my negative thoughts to myself previously handled sales, my job. Though by the time I started my employment, he switched to doing mostly back office or admin work. I’m surprised I never asked him for advice.
The last guy was a domineering figure. He was the youngest in the company, barely graduating high school, but could probably take on all of the men in our team in a fight; given he is a gym rat and also practiced martial arts. He has a head-on approach to problem solving and I remember him telling me early on during the 2020 pandemic to stop with the masks and that "the rainy season will wash away the coronavirus."
While in line, we reviewed each other’s progress and it didn’t seem like prospects were fairing well for anyone. I heard even that it got near levels of on the knee dogeza by the Partnerships team to beg former partners to come back. But despite all, the mood was cheerful. The lads were hoping to catch girls, check out Muji at Kamppi, and sightseeing. Was I missing something? The offensive is at a stall but it seems that there is something worth celebrating.
We proceeded to the locker room, and the conversations persisted to dinner plans, night clubs, and souvenirs to bring back home. I must’ve been in a real daze, since the next moment I found myself conscious in was inside the sauna. Yapping continued. They bantered with other patrons and shared in merriment, but I felt wrong.
A boiling point was reached. All the confusion piling up collapsed and I had to tap out. I wrapped up early and excused myself. Needing to be alone, I headed over to the attached cafe.
I just didn’t know how the company would stay afloat next quarter. No one saw the writing on the wall. At this rate, the project will be a flop. But more importantly, it was spiritually miserable. I practically ostracized myself back in university to focus on my work, and now it is in jeopardy. What could I do to fix this? Is failure inevitable? Were my teammates just having as much fun as they can on the ride before the ship sank?
It was then my thoughts were interrupted by a text notification.
Co-worker asked me to bring them some beers to the sauna. I ignored them.
As I was about to go back to my thoughts, the cafe speakers started to play a familiar song. It took a bit of listening, but I slowly unraveled that it was Mac DeMarco. I decided to lose myself a little to the lyrics. I could tell that it was a love song, but its sad undertone felt like a warm blanket and took it in while I could. I pulled out my phone to use Shazam and identify the song name.
No Other Heart.
When I met up with my colleagues later, they informed me in delight that the mixed sauna ended up getting real steamy with everyone, males and females, going nude.
The next few days were nothing new. I briefly networked, promised to keep in touch but nothing ever happened. People peeked at my name tag and then their eyes would look back at me, looking much more like Patrick Bateman.
Before returning back to Tokyo, we dined at this restaurant that my colleagues found interesting. They come here, as if it were a ritual, every time they find themselves in Finland. The reason simply being the Japanese menu. It had some sort of reverse engrish that was “hilarious” to read. Slowly browsing the menu, they’d point at items then start laughing. “This is interesting!” or “Isn’t this strange!?” they would say.
When it came my turn to order something, I’ll never forget what I saw. Reindeer Soup. I am not sure why but I was immediately drawn to it. Perhaps I thought it was some 2010s millennial bit like with bacon. Whatever reason, I decided in an instant to order it.
I don't remember how it tasted. Sure, it came along with rye bread and looked like a creamy salmon stew. But was it actually delicious? I do recall buying Moomin merchandise at the airport and managing a quick trip to the Rock Church. But for the life of me, I don't think I can tell you a single thing about the soup.
As I eat my food, I did take a quick glance at my co-workers; their food arrived but they were still at it, gawking at the hilarious menu.
I felt vindicated months later when just before the 2020 lockdowns, our product launch was scrubbed and the company went under. At least people can assume the coronavirus killed our company. We ceased operations with a Zoom party call where we took one last screenshot together with drinks. I returned as a full-time student and graduated a few months later; watching a vtuber debut on my grad day instead of departing with a graduation ceremony. If anything, I was able to get my diploma a few months later when lockdown conditions loosened.
Somewhere beyond the sea
The event did have its merits. this one pavilion reminded me a lot like Rapture from Bioshock and they played a certain song that had me asking for the song name during the after party. There was this food truck that had Filipino-Finnish fusion that looked and tasted amazing, I probably devoured it in two minutes. The bill came to 20 euros.