Everyone waited at the red light. Nothing was coming.

There were no cars on the road, and everyone was waiting anyway.

Last week in Japan, I stood at a crossing and looked out at an empty road. Nothing was coming, and nobody I saw jaywalked. We all stood there until the light turned green, and I remember thinking, what are we waiting for?

It frustrated me, because the wait felt pointless and I couldn't see the reason for it.

Then the light changed and we all crossed together, and everyone was fine. Nothing had been lost by waiting, yet something in me felt as though it had been, as if those seconds should have gone on something.

You know that pull, because you carry it into every week: fill the gap, keep moving, make every minute count.

Waiting was not the only small thing I noticed.

The place we stayed had slippers waiting at the door that every guest could use. Umbrella stands sat outside every door, with machines in some shops that dried your umbrella or put a cover on it so there was no water everywhere.

None of it was big in isolation, yet the more I saw, the more it all looked as though someone had thought about the next person.

I learned the word Kaizen years ago, when I worked in automotive, and I understood it as continuous improvement: small changes that make a process work better.

In Japan, I began to feel the idea beyond the factory floor. I had always thought about Kaizen through productivity, and now I was noticing it in ordinary life, in small details that made things easier for the next person. Even the red light changed my pace, and it made me wonder what else I might approach differently.

The light, the road and the rule were not mine to change, but how I stood there was, and that is about as small as a change gets.

What I took from the week is that Kaizen shows up in two forms. One is the red light, a small stop that changes how you approach your own day. The other is the slipper by the door and the cover on the wet umbrella, a small change that makes things easier for whoever comes next. Both are small enough to repeat, and the repetition matters, because Kaizen only works when you do a small thing again and again.

In your own life it might be as ordinary as how you start tomorrow morning, or what you leave ready for the person who picks up after you. It does not need a plan, only one thing within your control that you are willing to do again tomorrow.

Three questions to sit with this week:

• What are you rushing past that you would see clearly if you stood still for the length of one red light?
• Who pays for your speed: the people you lead, the people at home, or you?
• What small change could make tomorrow easier for you or someone around you?