When a window seat opens on a train, do you move?
Source: 通勤形車両 (鉄道) - Wikipedia
I saw this post:
A company’s original job-test had a “personality” sheet with this question. I asked in the interview what it meant; they said “people who move to the end have low stress tolerance and low tolerance for others, so ‘yes’ loses points.”
If there were real psychology data, fine, but there isn’t—this is laughable.
I think it depends on personal space, narrow long-seat widths, and temperature differences inside vs. outside.
About personal space
Personal space - Wikipedia sums it up: it’s the space where you feel uncomfortable if someone gets too close.
If family or close friends stand in front of you, no big deal. If a scary guy steps out of a black sedan right in front of you, you sweat and want 10 meters of distance. That’s personal space.
So that test probably goes: “moves to end seat → small personal space → keeps distance → low tolerance → (leap) low stress tolerance → minus points.” Feels like a sketchy company.
Research dates back to 1966; rough distances are on Wikipedia. Psych departments have papers too:
There’s even a paper on how a pole in the middle of the seat changes choices:
Men generally have larger personal space
“Larger” here means wider alert radius—more to tire you out. Maybe a remnant of hunting roles, maybe culture/education; unclear. Women’s space is narrower—fits the image of friends huddling close.
Forward is widest (you can see), sides narrower, back narrowest (can’t see). Perceived threat = stress.
Individuals vary: extroverts are narrower; introverts wider. I imagine Hunter x Hunter’s “En” spreading out.
Does the end seat protect personal space?
Depends on the car. Many Tokyo-area long seats have a wall/board at the end; if so, wall-side space feels protected, lowering stress.
But crowding matters. On a packed commute train, many will sprint for the end. On an empty car, people sit anywhere.
Personally, until college I sat in the middle because both sides were empty (I wasn’t riding crush-loaded lines). Once I started commuting, I grabbed the end if I could.
Do people with narrow personal space have higher stress tolerance?
Maybe—less bothered by details. But docking points on that alone? Hmm.
That famous “office urinal spacing” image comes to mind: if a company is full of super-sociable, low-personal-space, “tolerant” folks, does it look like that daily? I get snarky thoughts.
Narrow seat widths on long benches
Commuter long seats fit 7, but older cars have narrow per-person widths. National Railways set it small: ~60 cm (basically a single-seat width). 60 cm matches a typical male hip width; add arms and it’s too tight. Post-1990 cars got wider, but winter layers still make it cramped.
Right now it’s mid-February. The other day I had big guys in down jackets on both sides—super tight. An end seat would have helped; when it feels cramped, the end wins.
Summer vs. winter: another factor
When it’s scorching or freezing outside, end seats can be worse—the door blasts you with heat/cold every stop. In those cases I move toward the middle.
Everyone wants a gap between them
Given seats ◯◯◯◯◯◯◯, three people usually space like ●◯◯●◯◯●. The order:
◯◯◯◯◯◯◯→◯◯◯●◯◯◯→●◯◯●◯◯◯→●◯◯●◯◯●
Nobody does the “urinal fail” pattern.
Now, when an end opens:
●◯◯●◯◯●→● me ◯●◯◯●→◯ me ◯●◯◯● (left end opened)
Both sides empty—comfy. But during busy times I slide over. Why? Two people might be standing in front of me and it gets awkward.
When I was oblivious (high school me would stop in crowded walkways to dig in my backpack), I wouldn’t move. After riding more, I learned that once friends stand in front of you, shifting over feels awkward.
With small kids it’s worse. Not a priority seat, but it feels right to make room. I’ve regretted not sliding. Mom + kid + kid? I start feeling like I should just get up.
Conclusion
Ask me “Do you move to the end seat?” and I have to say: it depends.
