Quit My Job and Do YouTube
It felt like Greg and I had been dancing around something similar, so before I could get any more self-conscious about it, I seized the moment and quickly passed around the cookies I'd brought to the office.
Everyone was delighted, saying it was just about the right time for a snack anyway.
"The sweet smell has been filling the air—I've been wondering when you'd finally hand them out!"
With that, the morning wrapped up, and lunchtime arrived. Wanting to see Luca as soon as possible, I hurried my steps toward the bistro I always went to.
Having not visited in a while, the owner greeted me warmly.
"Wow, you said you were taking a break, and you look so much better. Same order as usual, then?"
"Yes, please."
As always, the food came out quickly.
"..."
And I was more than a little taken aback.
It really tasted terrible.
The cheese in the sandwich was cheap, and the cookie was far too oily. Even the coffee tasted like it had been double-brewed from the same beans—no aroma, no flavor at all.
Finding a menu I'd eaten almost every day for years suddenly so unappetizing was quite a shock.
Maybe it was only natural after cooking three meals a day for the past few months following famous chefs' recipes. Or maybe the espresso machine my landlord had gifted me was just that good.
Realizing my palate had gotten so refined over the last three months left me a little dumbfounded, a little inexplicably proud, and a little embarrassed.
And...
Expensive!
It wasn't so much the amount itself as how not worth it the money felt relative to the quality. Once I started cooking myself and paying attention to ingredients, that was inevitable.
Thinking I'd have to start packing lunches from now on, I walked quickly along the wet streets and arrived at the daycare.
Holding my breath without realizing it, I pushed open the daycare door and saw a baby drinking milk. The child in someone else's arms looked unfamiliar at first, but when our eyes met, the baby grinned even while sucking on the bottle.
Luca, recognizing his dad and stretching out both hands.
"Did the baby cry at all?"
I took Luca into my arms and patted his back as I asked. The teacher shook her head vigorously.
"No. He didn't cry, and even without anyone playing with him, he was fine just watching the mobile."
Come to think of it, colorful mobiles were spinning above the baby beds.
Do I need a mobile? I'd thought I was paying attention to everything for the baby, but I'd never even considered it.
"Ah, maybe it's because he's seeing a mobile for the first time. We don't have a baby mobile at home yet..."
My voice grew quieter, freshly feeling sorry for Luca.
"It's fine without one, but if you buy a mobile, it'll be nice for him to look at while lying down."
The teacher smiled as if it were no big deal, and I was a little grateful.
Having eaten his fill, Luca soon buried his face in my neck and fell asleep with even breathing. I carefully laid the baby down, kissed his forehead, and forced my reluctant feet to move.
In the elevator heading up to the office, the sudden thought struck me that I wanted to quit my job. I hated having to spend so many hours of the day away from my child. Thinking this after only one day back from a three-month break—the company would find it absurd.
What should I do? How can I earn as much as my company salary from home?
Even sitting at my desk staring at the screensaver, no brilliant idea came to mind.
Greg tapped my shoulder.
"What are you thinking about with that look on your face?"
"Ah... just wondering what I could do as a side hustle."
I couldn't exactly say I was thinking about quitting and what to do next, so I gave a vague answer. Greg, who had once shared the same concerns with me at a café, nodded.
"About that—I've been thinking."
"Hm?"
"What if you film the baby and upload it online? Luca's adorable. Babies are content that always sells well on the internet, right up there with animals and beautiful women."
"..."
Content, huh.
Not that I had anything against people who ran parenting blogs or YouTube channels. I'd watched plenty myself, learned from them, and gotten help. I was grateful, actually. But not everyone who has a baby immediately thinks they should start a YouTube channel. And...
Maybe I was just a bit old-fashioned...
I didn't want to put a baby's face on the internet without the baby's consent. Some people's faces change a lot as they grow, but others don't. What if later he resented me for posting his childhood online without permission? Especially since right now the goal was more about making money than preserving memories...
I myself didn't particularly like having my photos floating around everywhere, and people who saw how cute Luca was would definitely share his face far and wide. Plus, with AI advancing these days, I'd heard crimes involving face theft were on the rise. Naturally, I was even less keen on putting a baby's face online.
When I said as much, Greg answered as clearly as ever.
"Then you go on camera. Your face can sell all it wants."
"...Suddenly?"
"You're handsome. Content of a good-looking young dad doing childcare will be popular too. Keep Luca's face out of it as much as possible or blur it. Even if you just ramble about how hard it is raising a kid, you'll get views."
"No way. Who would watch that?"
"They will, I'm telling you. Or film yourself cooking and upload that! People are going crazy trying to make YouTube these days—why aren't you doing it when you've got all kinds of content?"
"First of all, I'm too shy. If a camera's rolling, I won't be able to do anything. And cooking... I don't have any originality..."
Artisan's Proficiency properly activates when I have a clear image in my head of something I want to make. A recipe someone else devised, brand clothes or furniture touched by designers... or when I have a design I've drawn myself. But even if the image of designs I draw myself is clear, the design level is low. Anyone can make square, straightforward furniture, right?
There were too many talented people on YouTube. Sketching simple furniture like a baby bed or shelf and making it... that felt about the level of a high school hobby woodworking club. I doubted anyone would look it up. And for clothes or food, I couldn't even begin to imagine creating my own original designs.
So I was just copying... Filming myself making the same product after watching someone else's video—wasn't that just stealing their content?
"..."
I tapped my desk as I racked my brains. Still, it was a side hustle I could start with no capital.
...What if I just came clean and explicitly said, "I'm making this with reference to So-and-so's video"? It would promote the original creator too, and I'd just have to film and upload the time I was already spending preparing household items anyway. If it was a video of making things, I wouldn't even have to talk much...
When I said this, Greg shook his head vigorously.
"You stickler. There are people out there who just copy someone else's uploaded video and slap on their own subtitles."
That's a bit much.
"I may not have money, but I do have a conscience."
"Whatever it is, being able to watch and follow well is impressive too. Try starting even with videos like that. Who knows, maybe it'll blow up?"
"Hmm..."
There was no guarantee it'd blow up just because I started. There were countless creators in the world, and most of them never saw much light. Plenty did it just for self-satisfaction too. But I couldn't not try either. The advantage was that it was relatively easy to start.
Plus, wasn't it true that I wanted to show Luca off to the whole world too? Even without showing the baby's face, sharing the energetic way he flipped over with a whoosh, or those soft, chubby cheeks visible from the side when looking from behind... wouldn't that be okay to share with the world?
Ah, but even for self-made videos, I'd need basic editing, and I knew nothing about that. At that thought, I opened the Manito App. Would buying computer programs with points also come with the app's buffs? I couldn't guarantee artistic editing, but basic editing skills...
"Jun."
Yikes! I jumped up from my seat in surprise. It was Manager Rachel.
"Yes, Manager."
"Why so startled? Can you come see me for a moment before lunch ends?"
"Yes, understood."
I glanced at Greg. Greg shrugged. Surely she wasn't about to scold me for hanging onto my boyfriend during lunch break.
I wondered if she'd overheard the side hustle conversation. But it wasn't about changing jobs, and she didn't seem like the type to call someone over for that... Plus, reviewing today's work as I walked the short distance to the manager's desk, there was nothing particularly wrong, so I stood before her with a smile feigning ease.
"I enjoyed the cookies you gave out this morning. They tasted better than store-bought. Did you get a baking certificate while you were off so you could quit the company?"
"Ah, haha..."
I hadn't gotten a baking certificate to quit, but since I'd spent all day thinking about quitting, the joke stung a little even knowing it was a joke. As I just smiled awkwardly without answering, she didn't seem to expect a reply either and got straight to the point.
"How does it feel being back at work after so long?"
"It's work I've done for years—nothing special. Today I received handovers on what happened while I was gone, and we're starting the client calls tomorrow."
"Right, about that—I was thinking maybe we should push that back a few more days. I'll let the other staff know."
"Pardon?"
Manager Rachel sighed.
"Actually, this morning I got an email from CSR. Mid-next week, one group from our department has to participate in volunteer work..."
She continued as she pulled a company card from her drawer.
"That day, one team will do volunteer work inside the building, and the other team will provide coffee and simple snacks to residents outside."
As I took the card she handed me, what crossed my mind was why we had to repeat this absolute pinnacle of performative activity every quarter.
Our company's CSR department, under the banner of "fulfilling corporate social responsibility," rotated various social contribution activities as "suggestions" to other departments each quarter, and the heads of each department had to show a "cooperative" attitude in response. Most of the social contribution activities CSR brought were one- or two-day external volunteer activities...
Everyone was already busy with their actual work, so of course team leaders weren't thrilled about having to send some staff out for a day or two. Sometimes, beyond basic volunteering, they also had to come up with additional plans that "could approach people more humanely and friendly"—and that was what Manager Rachel was talking about now.
"Buy plenty of ingredients and just submit the receipts later. I'll put you on remote work tomorrow, so how about baking some cookies at home? Before you start your actual work in earnest."
And she added that if I photographed the baking process and submitted it, we could appeal the sincerity of "employees personally taking time to do such-and-such for the neighborhood residents."
Asking how much sincerity that would really appeal would be pointless. Regardless of how the parent company was, the things our branch CSR department made us do were all just for show.
"Yes. So including ones for the staff, about four boxes of fifty each should do?"
"That sounds about right."
"Alright, I'll prepare them that way."
I trudged back to my seat. I'd forgotten that if you let the company know you're good at something, you end up doing extra work unrelated to your actual job.
Well, not having to come to the office for even one day was a bonus.