This is the Shithole! ~Hope Arc~ (3)
What's the most important thing in a job interview? For me, personally, it's the first impression. In that regard, Shin Na-young had made a fantastic one. She was lively, bright, and cheerful. If she'd applied for sales, Han Yu-ra would have hired her on the spot without a second thought.
But unfortunately, Shin Na-young had applied for programming. A field where her bright and cheerful personality offered zero help.
Han Yu-ra calmed her tense nerves. 'I have to hire a good employee. No matter what.' With the open beta just around the corner, that would decide the company's fate.
Han Yu-ra spoke up. "Na-young-ssi? Let's start the interview now."
"Ah, yes! Sorry!"
"Yes... It says here you graduated from a regional university's tourism department. What got you into programming?"
'Why did this woman study tourism and then learn to code?' Of course, there was no law against it. Anyone could change careers. But it still looked like she lacked expertise.
What Han Yu-ra wanted was someone with a four-year degree in a relevant major.
Shin Na-young answered enthusiastically. "I studied online lectures on the internet. Bootcamp courses!"
"How many months did you study?"
"Six months!"
Unlike when Im Seong-u was around, a massive wave of anxiety crept over her. Han Yu-ra desperately wanted someone with a four-year degree in a programming-related field. But even among the other applicants, hardly anyone had a coding major.
"What did you do before?"
"I worked at a hospital! It wasn't related to programming, but I learned about 'group living' and 'social etiquette' there!"
'Please stop.'
"But I got passionate about mobile games and decided to apply here!"
She showed off something she'd made herself. It was a PC game. Calling it a game was a stretch... It was just a 3D room with a character walking around. If this counted as a game, pinball was divine, and Minesweeper would win Game of the Year.
Han Yu-ra let out a groan. "...Do you have any mobile game development experience?"
"No. But... I'll learn hard! I'll do my best!"
That brazen confidence was deeply unsettling.
"Uh... then. Any experience with cash payment systems or similar?"
"None!"
"Can you implement ads?"
"Not yet, but I'll work hard on it!"
No... If there's no monetization or ads in a mobile game, how the hell do you make money? Han Yu-ra felt a strong urge to reject her outright.
'...Damn it. I was going to hire any programmer just to save on labor costs.'
There wasn't a single applicant with a four-year degree in programming. That was the reality of this shithole company. The fact filled Han Yu-ra with despair.
"We'll let you know the results."
"Thank you!"
Shin Na-young bowed politely and left.
"Unnie. I really like her."
"Yeah?"
Han Yu-ra gritted her teeth. Another precious day had slipped away like this. 110 days until open beta. It felt like a doomsday countdown, and her heart grew darker by the minute.
'A good applicant will come. I'm sure of it.'
For the first time in a while, she felt like praying.
...
Job Requirements: Developer
Sepiros Online development studio in Pangyo, Railroad Software, seeks family-like employees. Recruiting full-stack developers proficient in game client (Unity). Mobile game experience preferred.
Languages: Node.js, JavaScript, React, Unity
Salary: 3 million KRW (negotiable)
Han Yu-ra's conditions were as above. A full-stack developer who could handle both backend and frontend meant someone who could run their own homepage outsourcing company single-handedly. Considering outsourcing firms charged at least 2 million per project, her offer wasn't great.
In an era of rising developer salaries, a senior who could do game and web full-stack for 3 million a month, plus unpaid overtime? No such creature existed in reality.
'It's fine. It'll work out.'
Employees were like real estate listings—good ones come when the time is right. That was her philosophy.
"Ah, uh, h-hello."
A male developer entered. A stereotypical glasses-wearing dev type sat down hesitantly.
"Yes. Come on in."
Her chest tight with frustration, Han Yu-ra forced a smile. 'Every second counts right now.' She had to hire someone fast. She could even swallow her pride for it.
"Must've been a long trip. Want some coffee?"
"Ah, n-no... I'm f-fine."
He glanced nervously at the female staff, unable to relax his back muscles. Kim A-ram and Im Su-yeon stared at him like he was weird.
'At least... Im Seong-u didn't stutter.'
Regretting the thought of Im Seong-u, Han Yu-ra asked, "Your application was pretty sparse. Could you introduce yourself?"
"Yes... I, uh... graduated from Yoonji University business admin, then went to a coding academy. Unity game dev... I, um, can do it."
Expecting a four-year CS grad, Han Yu-ra wanted to clutch her head. The remaining five interviews that day were all non-majors too. Even bootcamp grads from reputable places were nowhere to be found.
'Please, at least a proper bootcamp!'
Anyone who'd properly finished a bootcamp wouldn't apply to a place like this. It was a fact only Han Yu-ra was oblivious to.
"Unity game dev? Can you show me what you've done?"
"Th-this... is it."
Thankfully, he pulled out a smartphone, not a PC. 'Oh... mobile game experience!'
She felt relief. To her non-expert ears, it sounded like he'd made and published a mobile game. Good enough. Should she hire this guy?
"Here."
It was a 3D game of a knight fighting a red dragon. The dragon was massive, animations smooth, fire breath impressive. Looked decent.
Han Yu-ra broke into a cold sweat. 'Th-thank god. A lifeline.'
She turned to Yoon Se-hee beside her. "Se-hee-ssi."
"Yes?"
"What do you think?"
Yoon Se-hee had been roped into interview duty since yesterday. Han Yu-ra couldn't handle technical questions alone, so she kept the somewhat Unity-familiar Se-hee nearby for advice.
Se-hee played the game and said, "Um..."
"Yes...?"
"The dragon doesn't die."
"Pardon?"
The dragon was a test boss meant to die after three hits, but even at 0 HP, it kept spewing fire. Tsukuyomi curse? Undead dragon? No. It was a bug.
"Why doesn't this dragon die? Is it, uh, a necromancer thing?"
"Pfft."
The newbie dev flushed with shame. "Ah, sorry. Th-there's a b-bug."
'Bug?'
He snatched the interviewer's phone and fiddled. While Han Yu-ra puzzled over what he was doing, he hit the menu button. Suddenly, the dragon died out of nowhere. Game over screen popped up.
"...?"
"???"
"Th-there. G-good?"
Like, cool, right? But Han Yu-ra had already lost all trust.
"Thanks for applying. We'll let you know the results."
"Th-thank you!"
Han Yu-ra's anxiety hit its peak.
...
The noisy afternoon passed. Han Yu-ra stared blankly at the sunset through the office window.
'...We're not totally fucked, right?'
Yesterday, she'd contacted the investor. One programmer quit, so open beta needed delaying.
"Aigoo, CEO-nim. Hello. How's business?"
"Eh, so-so."
"Ahaha. I see. What can I do for you?"
"One of our programmers quit voluntarily, so it's a bit tough."
"Aigoo, that must be hard." No sympathy in his voice. Not even a hint of warmth.
She bit her lip. "So, we're thinking of postponing the open beta."
She spoke. Then panicked. Silence on the other end.
"Hello...?"
Tension. Goosebumps. Her heart pounded. He was about to give negative feedback.
"Ah, well... that's tricky."
"Pardon?"
"We had an agreement. You specified the open beta date in your IR pitch."
"But game dev doesn't always stick to schedules, right?"
"Aigoo, CEO-nim." The investor said, "Do you know how many game companies scam people?"
Han Yu-ra swallowed. He was right.
"They claim game dev, then 'pivot' from mobile to PC, PC to something else, scrap it all, dissolve, and run."
"..."
"That's why we added that clause. No dev, refund investment."
Many game studios tricked investors with half-assed products. Understanding their side made her feel pathetic.
"CEO-nim, Angel Ventures invested in Railroad Software's vision because we trusted you."
"..."
"You're young, you might not know, but trust brings responsibility. You can't miss the open beta date. What am I supposed to do?"
"What about Ampco Publishing?"
"..."
"Even if I'm not worried, honestly, Angel Ventures or Ampco could sue, and you'd have no defense."
Ten billion KRW. The biggest sum she'd ever handled. The startup package's 50 million felt tame compared to this tension.
Throwing herself into entrepreneurship since senior year of college, she had no immunity to bluffing, and "lawsuit" shook her.
While she hesitated, he said, "CEO-nim! Don't worry too much! Just hire another programmer and keep going."
Investors didn't care about her struggles. This guy wasn't even a direct investor—just a low-level employee pushing superficial tasks for his reports.
But what could she do? No money.
"...Yes. Please show some consideration."
"Of course. Haha. I'll put in a good word."
She hung up, heart sinking. No consideration at all in his tone.
'Why am I so anxious? Four... four months left?'
There were plenty of programmers worldwide—probably as many as Korea's population. Surely someone fit the bill.
No way not. Han Yu-ra ground her teeth and focused on work. Distractions only hindered; they were useless anywhere. She knew that.