22 and Working Poor: The Light I Found — How Bar Little Happiness Began (20 Memories, Vol. 1)

2026.10.05

In short: the founding story of Bar Little Happiness in Hiroshima, Japan. In 2006, at 22, owner Mika Tanimoto opened a tiny café bar with one million yen from part-time jobs while temping by day — the “working poor,” barely able to drink. A bartending school found in the phone book led her to whisky, and a single ray of light. Memory No. 1 of “20 Memories” for the bar’s 20th anniversary.

2026. My bar reaches a big milestone: its 20th anniversary.

This year, with gratitude, I want to look back on “20 memories” I have woven so far.

The first one is 2006.

The story of me, so powerless, having just opened the bar.

“What on earth do I want to do?”

I graduated from university and got a job, but quit soon after.

At 22, still not having found what I wanted to do, I was working as a temp — and through an unexpected connection, I ended up starting a café bar.

“Let’s give it a try!”

With nothing but groundless hope and momentum, clutching one million yen I had saved from student part-time jobs, I built a tiny, bare-bones DIY shop with the book “The Café of My Dreams,” which I’d found in a bookshop, in my other hand.

But when the curtain rose, what awaited me was a gritty reality far from the place I had dreamed of.

Temping by day, opening my own shop at night.

In reality, I was what people call “the working poor.”

Back then, I could hardly drink. I knew nothing about running a business.

Even when I stood behind the counter,

“I didn’t even know what I didn’t know.”

In the shop I had built like a toy box, time just passed.

An intense sense of urgency, like crawling around and around in darkness with no way out.

The more I wished to “become someone,” the more reality knocked me down, day after day.

“I want to change this situation somehow.”

“I want to become someone.”

Looking for a hint to break through, I flipped through the thick Town Page (the phone book).

At last, I found the words “bartending school.”

That became the first key that moved my fate.

Clinging to it desperately, I knocked on the door and started learning, from how to use a shaker.

After standing at the entrance to the world of drinks, I had a fateful encounter.

With something called “whisky.”

I, who could hardly drink, was moved to my soul for the first time by the aroma hidden in a single drop, and the depth of decades of history.

More than “delicious” — “What a fascinating world!”

Pure curiosity shone a single, dazzling ray of light at my pitch-dark feet.

From there, I just went all out. But reality wasn’t easy.

Understanding nothing, every day was one “frustration” after another.

Whenever people pointed things out, my pride was as high as anyone’s, even though my ability didn’t match it.

Despite my tough front, inside I was falling apart.

I had so little confidence that every single day I was just anxious, feeling sick.

“I want someone to help me.”

“But I have to deal with it myself.”

No money. No one who understood me. No one to talk to.

All alone.

Honestly, I was so desperate I barely remember those days.

But because I crawled through that darkness, step by step, through the mud, I am who I am today.

To the me of 20 years ago — worn out, and nobody at all.

And to the guests who have watched over such an inexperienced me until today.

In 2026, with the deepest gratitude.

The single ray of light I found in the darkness that day — now I put it into a glass and bring it to you.

Every encounter is meant to be. Welcome to the world of Rum&Whisky.

Mika Tanimoto, Bar Little Happiness

20 Memories, Vol. 2 ↓
Back to the Origin in Our 20th Year: Moving “the One Guest in Front of Me” (20 Memories, Vol. 2)

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