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

2026.10.05

In short: Vol. 2 of “20 Memories” for the 20th anniversary of Bar Little Happiness in Hiroshima. Owner Mika Tanimoto on how building an organisation made her see distilleries and guests through a filter of “training” and efficiency — and why, after letting the organisation go and returning to the counter alone, she came back to one simple principle: move the one guest in front of you.

Throughout this year, I would like to look back, with gratitude, on the “20 memories” we have woven so far.

Thanks 20th Anniversary　Vol. 1 is here

“First of all, move the one guest in front of you.”

These words, spoken by a business owner I respect at a study group, resonate deeply in my heart.

I founded this bar in 2006 at the age of 22, and this year we enter our 20th year.

Back then, when I jumped into this world with nothing, making the guest in front of me happy was my one and only — and strongest — principle of action.

At the same time, I felt a strong sense of unease about the way this industry relied on youth and ignorance.

That awareness of the problem became my driving force, and so began days of pouring my heart into building an organisation and systems.

Creating a place where bartending is not exploited, and where people with real aspirations are rewarded.

For me, that was a “justice” worth staking my life on.

But as I kept the bar going, took on staff and tried to grow it as an organisation, at some point the way I saw things changed.

As an owner, I thought about the “overall optimum”: how to move the organisation, how to change the structure of the industry.

There was a time when I only looked at those big questions, saw the bar through the filter of systems and efficiency, and poured all my energy into seeing the whole from above.

That was a kind of justice needed to keep the business alive — but I now understand that it was also mixed with “misunderstanding” and “complacency.”

What the filter called “training” was hiding

In the past, I often visited distilleries to hear the makers’ voices directly.

I simply loved going to those places and listening to the people there — it was fun, it was precious, I adored it.

But as my responsibilities as an organisation grew, at some point the purpose shifted from “my own pure curiosity” to “part of training my people.”

“How can my staff pass this excitement on to our guests?”

“How can I bring this story back so it works as part of the bar’s system?”

I think that was the only way I looked at the distilleries back then.

Not only when visiting distilleries, but in every part of running the business, I behaved as if I were going out to “stock up” on information.

To chase numbers, to raise efficiency.

Chasing only filtered information like that, my heart, I think, missed or spilled the most important things: the atmosphere, the living voices.

Why can I say that so firmly?

Because I cannot recall the words and passion of the whisky and rum people I must have heard back then as vividly as I can today.

Back then, when I went out to “stock up” on information, I think some things unconsciously slipped through my heart.

The real conviction left after letting go

A few years ago, I decided to let go of the “organisational form” I had desperately built up until then.

From the point of view of a typical growth curve, it may have been a choice that went backwards.

But for me, it was an unavoidable step on the way back to a place where my own “justice” makes sense to me.

Letting go of the organisation, and standing behind the counter alone again.

Today, when I go to see the makers, I simply follow my first impulse: “I want to know!” “I want to hear how these people feel!”

Not for work, not for training — I want to touch their passion as one human being.

And I want to deliver the stories carved directly into my heart to my guests, unfiltered, with their purity intact.

When I tell the story behind a bottle, my guests are surprised and their eyes light up.

I can truly share the joy of that moment myself.

I remembered that this one-to-one excitement was the starting point of everything.

Someone who cannot move the one person in front of them cannot change the future

“Move the one person in front of you.”

It is so obvious — or such a bare minimum.

I now take the words of the business owner I respect as “my own words,” felt for real.

Having gone round dozens, hundreds of times to get here, I am now convinced that this is the ultimate form of business — and of living.

Misunderstanding, complacency, and deep inner conflict.

Because of all those detours, I can now face “the one in front of me” with a clean, fresh heart.

“I’ll definitely come back next time I’m in Hiroshima.” For each one person who says that to me, I stand behind the counter again today, putting my whole heart into the glass in front of me.

20 Memories, Vol. 3 ↓
An Era of Light and Darkness: Longing and Reality (20 Memories, Vol. 3)

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“Both whisky and rum taste even better when you touch the feelings of the people who make them.”

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