The Changes Coming for Japanese Konbini Stores
Japan’s convenience stores are national institutions.
They are also facing growing needs to change and adapt in ways that reveal much about Japan as a nation.
I have certain rituals when I return to Japan.
After the long flight (usually 12+ hours from Europe), I cannot wait for a proper soba and tempura meal. It’s the taste of my adopted home. The service and quality are some of the many things I love about this country.
The next day or night (depending on when the flight got in), I will stumble to the local convenience store in an extremely jet-lagged state. Since this is Japan, it is always open.
I’m getting another “welcome home” meal: onigiri, sandwiches, and a little bit of karaage (fried chicken). Ok, quite a lot of karaage. This may be convenience store food, but Google “Anthony Bourdain Japanese Egg Salad Sandwich,” and you get an idea of how good this stuff is.
On the surface, my local store hasn’t changed much since I’ve lived in the neighbourhood. The same layout, the same chime when the doors open, and the same amazing woman behind the counter (she is literally the best person I know, apart from my wife).
Dig a little deeper or live here for a while, and you might notice how change is afoot. These differences may seem minor to you, but to many Japanese, they are seismic.
Japan’s 55,736 convenience stores—often referred to as konbini—are more than just retail outlets. They are community infrastructure, cultural touchstones, and a pure distillation of Japanese efficiency and service culture.
So, what is happening beneath the shining surface?
From American import to Japanese infrastructure
Japanese konbini started a gamble. In 1974, Ito-Yokado acquired franchise rights to the struggling American brand 7-Eleven. It opened its first store in Tokyo with the idea of bringing the American convenience store model—a miniature grocery with extended hours—to Japanese consumers.
It flopped.
The breakthrough came four years later, thanks to the humble rice ball (onigiri). It became a massive sales success and kick-started the broader Japanification of the convenience store concept.
The formula was a winner. In the following years, Japan experienced an explosion of convenience store openings throughout the entire country.
Today, konbini stores transcend retail. They’re 24-hour ATMs, postal services, bill payment centres, concert ticket vendors, and disaster relief stations.
During the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake, they became emergency supply hubs.
The workforce collision
Maintaining the level of service that konbini have become famous for requires people both buying stuff and working behind the counters. And Japan is running low on both.
In 2023, Japan recorded 727,277 births, the lowest since record-keeping began in 1899. The fertility rate hit 1.20, while 29.1% of the population is now over 65.
Enter foreign workers. As of 2024, approximately 80,000 foreign nationals work at Japan’s three major convenience store chains. At some Tokyo locations, foreign students make up 90% of the employees.
These young workers, primarily from Nepal, Vietnam, China, Myanmar, and Bangladesh, are typically enrolled in Japanese language schools. They take the overnight shifts Japanese workers avoid, at times working through the night before heading to morning classes without sleep.
You would think that Japan has been happy to welcome these young workers. You would be wrong.
There are many reasons. I can testify to Japanese customer service expectations being notoriously exacting. Foreign workers must master not just the language but also elaborate protocols, while the Japanese language presents its own particular challenges (again, I am happy to testify to this).
Then there is the often insular Japanese mindset (a wise person once framed it as “You might love Japan, but Japan will never love you back – it will bear you, but no more than that).
The 24-Hour Question
Labour shortages also led to uncomfortable questions about one of the defining features of konbini: round-the-clock availability even when there is little business sense in keeping open all hours.
Mitoshi Matsumoto became the face of the issue. After his wife and co-manager died in 2018, the Osaka 7-Eleven owner struggled to staff overnight hours. In February 2019, he began closing from 1 a.m. to 6 a.m. 7-Eleven threatened contract termination. Matsumoto persisted, becoming a national celebrity and rallying point for thousands of franchisees who felt corporate headquarters demanded unsustainable operations while taking minimal risk themselves.
The company terminated his contract in December 2019. Matsumoto continued to operate briefly without 7-Eleven support, with the shelves gradually emptying. In a bizarre power move, 7-Eleven built a new franchise in his parking lot while legal battles continued.
In June 2022, courts sided with the company, ordering Matsumoto to pay damages and vacate. He vowed to appeal.
A national need for change
The Mutsumoto case shed light on the (often contractually stipulated) extreme working conditions in konbinis.
While specific survey data about the recent situation is hard to come by, multiple reports from 2019 documented franchisees working 12+ hour days with minimal rest, and being forced to staff overnight shifts themselves when they were unable to hire workers.
These issues are not confined to konbinis (extreme working conditions are more common here than you might think), nor is the shortage of workers. The manufacturing, service, and wholesale/retail sectors all depend increasingly on the 2.3 million foreign workers (as of October 2024) in the country.
Yet Japan’s immigration system remains restrictive (again, very (un)happy to testify), treating many workers as temporary solutions rather than permanent residents.
The situation crystallises what I see as one of Japan’s biggest contradictions. The nation aims to maintain its service standards and explore ways to cope with a shrinking population. Still, it is deeply uncomfortable with the idea of foreign labour and the changes it brings.
Immigrants or robots
You should not underestimate this conundrum when examining Japan’s technology market or the innovations making headlines.
For example, Lawson announced plans for a “convenience store of the future” launching in 2025, featuring robots for stocking and cooking, AI-powered customer service, and technology aimed at reducing staff workload by 30% by 2030.
Self-service registers are proliferating, although they can’t handle tobacco sales or bill payments, which limits their effectiveness.
Whether technology can truly replace human labour – and keep Japan ticking in a solely Japanese way – remains uncertain.
What seems clear is that the konbini, as a symbol for the whole of Japan, must evolve in some way.
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