Quitting by proxy: How Japan’s resignation agencies are helping workers escape toxic jobs

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In Tokyo, Shota Shimizu quietly dialled the HR department at a nursing care company. His client, too anxious to quit herself, had hired him to do it. “There was a mismatch between her expectations and the reality of the job,” Shimizu explained. “She’ll return her uniform and locker key by mail.”

Shimizu works for Momuri, a Tokyo-based “resignation agency” that helps employees quit jobs they can no longer endure. The name itself, Momuri, roughly translates to “I can’t take it anymore.” For a fee of around ¥50,000 (approximately $350), Momuri will sever professional ties on your behalf—no awkward conversations, no emotional strain, the Washington Post reported.

A new kind of career service

Momuri is part of a growing niche industry in Japan that offers “proxy quitting” services. These agencies have become increasingly popular, especially among people in their 20s and 30s, as Japan’s traditionally rigid workplace culture loosens in the wake of the pandemic. What was once considered unthinkable—leaving a job before retirement, especially after age 35—is now a viable option for many.

The idea appeals to workers facing burnout, harassment, or simply a mismatch between job and expectations. It also helps those dreading an emotionally fraught conversation with a superior in Japan’s famously hierarchical companies. In a culture that values harmony and discourages confrontation, the appeal of hiring someone else to deliver bad news is strong.

A service born of structural change

Japan’s labour market is undergoing a transformation. For decades, the norm was lifetime employment: one job, one company, from graduation to retirement. Workers were rewarded for loyalty, not performance. Even after the “bubble economy” burst in the 1990s, the long hours remained—often extended through compulsory after-work socializing with bosses.

But as Japan faces an aging population and shrinking workforce, job seekers now have more leverage. “Today, there are a wide range of job opportunities available in the labour market,” said Kaoru Tsuda, a researcher at Indeed Recruit Partners Research Center in Tokyo. That new flexibility is fuelling a surge in people changing careers—and, by extension, a need for services like Momuri.

Momuri has grown from just 200 cases a month when it launched in 2022 to around 2,500 monthly clients today, according to founder Shinji Tanimoto. Most clients are in their 20s and 30s, but some are in their 80s. “We’ve seen a broadening demand,” he said.

Changing how Japan says goodbye

Once hired, Momuri staff contact HR on the client’s behalf. They don’t negotiate severance or give legal advice, which has kept them largely clear of legal issues. Still, some services have faced scrutiny from the Tokyo Bar Association for overstepping their bounds.

Taishi Kusano, who runs a similar agency called Oitoma, says companies sometimes react with anger or confusion when contacted by proxy. “There tends to be a pattern: first confusion, followed by anger,” Kusano said. But with more awareness, some employers now respond with a simple, “Ah, I see.”

The growing visibility of resignation agencies signals a deeper shift in Japanese work culture. “When people can’t say how they really feel, and they reach the breaking point, these services become a way out,” said Keiko Ishii, a professor at Nagoya University who studies social perception.

The broader impact of mobility

According to a 2024 survey by Tokyo Shoko Research, nearly 10% of Japanese companies have received resignations through a proxy. Though only about 3.3 million people in Japan changed jobs last year—out of nearly 68 million workers—the number is rising.

Mid-career workers are increasingly part of this trend, filling roles vacated by a lost generation of full-time employees after the 1990s downturn. Companies that once avoided hiring people over 35 are now competing for them. At JAC Recruitment in Tokyo, spokesperson Yoko Kodama noted growing demand for experienced professionals in their 40s and 50s.

From stigma to strength

For those who have made the leap, quitting has become a way to reclaim their lives. Kento Sano, who left a major travel company at 31, explored different paths before returning to the travel industry—this time at a start-up. “I came to believe the strongest move is to enjoy your work while still doing things that excite you,” he said.

Keisuke Ochi, 45, left his long-held job at a distribution firm after realizing how much time he had missed with his family. The pandemic, he said, was a “game changer.” He now works at a financial services company that gives him more flexibility.

“I truly felt the happiness of having dinner together as a family,” Ochi said. “I realized how precious that time is.”

For a country long defined by its unwavering work ethic, Japan’s slow but visible embrace of job mobility—and the rise of resignation agencies—marks the start of a cultural recalibration, where quitting may no longer be a sign of weakness, but of strength.