Chapter 181
Chapter 181
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: Menu Negotiations
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“I...”
Park Man-soo squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. Finally, he spoke up.
“I’ll do it.”
He gave his firm confirmation once more.
“I’ll adjust the prices. I’ll bring everything under ten thousand won.”
So this was the decision after all that agonizing. It was at least a hopeful direction, so I flashed a grin.
“Looking forward to working with you, Owner.”
“The pleasure’s all mine!”
Park Man-soo bowed deeply.
“I’m counting on the solution!”
Talk about pressure. I scratched my cheek and replied.
“Once the prices are sorted, you won’t have much to worry about, Owner. The food’s already tasty at its core. Just get a good handle on costs and margins, and you’ll be golden.”
He was just a bit short on business savvy, but the flavors were legit. Add solid value for money, and it’d be plenty competitive.
Especially with no other Western spots around—that was a game-changer.
I’d wrangled the key issue of pricing. But as they say, there are mountains beyond mountains, and the next negotiation loomed just as rough.
“Could I see the menu?”
“Sure. Here you go.”
I took the menu from Park Man-soo. Including drinks, it had to be at least five pages thick.
Pasta, risotto, side dishes. Toss in beverages, and it was a hefty booklet.
This guy was up next for negotiation.
“The bulgogi aglio e olio was your signature, right? Let’s make that the star and trim the side menus.”
“Side menus, you mean...”
“Stuff like the bacon carbonara. It’s got no real hook, and it’s not even standout delicious.”
“But we have customers who love the carbonara...”
Park Man-soo looked like the sky was crashing down. Couldn’t blame him. Every menu item must feel like his own kid.
It wasn’t just about the line on the page. There’d been endless practice, measuring, and honing to perfect each one.
Telling him to cut it was like saying to chuck all that time and effort in the trash.
I could sympathize with how bummed he looked.
‘Still, no choice.’
I picked my words carefully.
“The menu’s way too long and complicated. Inventory management will be a nightmare, and worst of all, it kills your table turnover.”
“Table turnover...”
“I told you—turnover factors into your costs. How many tables you can turn per day determines how low you can price things.”
With prices dropping this much, maximizing turnover was key to preserving margins.
“Plus, you can’t handle this many dishes. It’s workable now with light traffic, but even a modest crowd and you’ll be swamped.”
“...”
“The ideal is sticking to one or two mains, but that’s probably too brutal. Still, let’s keep it under five items.”
Park Man-soo gazed down at the menu with mournful eyes. He’d probably pictured customers poring over it, debating their picks, when he first made it.
You could sense that old spark of optimism in the pages.
“...Got it.”
But Park Man-soo said he’d push through again.
I’d braced for some pushback. Surprised, I stared at him, and he tacked on an explanation like a justification.
“I signed up for the solution. Gotta see it through, porridge or poison.”
His commitment to the solution ran deeper than I’d figured.
Music to my ears.
“Great. Let’s brainstorm which ones to keep and whip up a new menu.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then we’ll score it with the tasting panel the production team’s rounding up.”
“!”
“Price included—satisfaction levels, taste, the works.”
Park Man-soo’s face tightened with nerves. He looked just like a kid facing a big exam.
“But the real test is table turnover.”
“Table turnover meaning...”
“Total of ten tables. You’ve only got five in the shop, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So we time how long two full turnarounds take at capacity.”
Park Man-soo seemed to catch what I was driving at. He nodded with resolve.
“Perfect. More menu items means lower turnover—keep that in mind? Beyond that, it’s your call on how many to pick.”
“Yes, sir.”
Beginners ideally debut with one main, but for someone with real pride in their cooking, that’d be overkill.
Ultimately, his turnover would hinge on how greedy he got.
“For now, practice cooking your selections fast.”
“Got it!”
Park Man-soo bowed deeply one more time.
I gave a quick nod in return and stepped out of the shop. I headed to the next business getting a solution, keeping the cameras rolling.
And yet, that sad look in his eyes wouldn’t leave my head.
Clack.
“Great work, everyone~!”
Even as the slate clapped. The shoot had gone smoothly, at least.
I was packing up my gear when Im Hye-eun and Do Kyung started chatting nearby.
“You two were pros today~.”
“Thank you!”
“Hearing there’s a wrap party tonight. You heading over?”
“I’ve got a dawn call tomorrow, so I’ll sit this one out.”
“Bummer. What about you, Song CEO?”
I thought it over for a sec.
“Gonna pass today, too.”
“Too bad. I’m in—catch you later!”
Once Im Hye-eun bounced, it was just me and Do Kyung. We packed in silence, but I felt him hovering nearby.
“?”
I turned, puzzled, and he glanced at me cautiously.
“Anything bug you during the shoot today?”
“Nah?”
“Good. Forget I asked.”
Do Kyung started to pull away, and I blurted out on reflex.
“Why do you say that?”
“Just... you seemed off your game a few times.”
“!”
That obvious, huh? My eyes went wide, and he waved it off.
“It just looked that way! Won’t show on air. Only noticeable up close.”
“Whew, that’s a relief.”
No harm to the footage, so I relaxed.
‘Kid’s sharper than he lets on.’
I’d pegged him as pretty vanilla. Guess the entertainment grind sharpened his instincts.
Subtle probe, quick retreat once denied. He drew lines like a pro.
Felt like I owed some explanation, so I added.
“It’s nothing big. Just... that pasta shop owner’s attitude during the shoot rubbed me wrong.”
“Him? What about him?”
Do Kyung cocked his head.
“He was way more cooperative than last week. Like a totally different guy—caught me off guard.”
Spot on, like Do Kyung said. Last week, he’d had this rock-solid worldview and his own brand of stubbornness.
To flip like that in no time flat.
“That’s what’s bugging me.”
“...Huh?”
Do Kyung looked utterly lost.
“I didn’t figure his stubborn streak would crack that fast. Cutting the menu count probably hit him as too drastic.”
“Fair.”
“But he rolled with it better than expected. Kinda suspicious.”
What gives? Sudden bout of clear-eyed perspective? Nah.
Resigned to his flop of a business? Or did someone chew him out? Maybe PD Kim Hee-sung warned that no solution meant getting cut from the show.
My brain churned through theories until Do Kyung let out a little laugh.
“Haha. That’s what had you brooding?”
Huge shift! From my vantage dealing with countless franchise owners, it was seismic.
I must’ve looked sulky, because Do Kyung shrugged it off lightly.
“Probably heard scuttlebutt from one of the earlier shoots.”
“Huh? Earlier shop?”
“You remember the first one we shot? The army stew joint especially.”
“Oh.”
How could I forget? We’d sweated bullets developing that new menu.
“Army stew topped with veggie fritters.”
Handing over that recipe was no picnic.
“Yeah, that place. Hasn’t even aired, and it’s already blowing up as a hot spot. You hear?”
“What?”
News to me.
Makes sense—not exactly must-see TV for a mildly popular stew spot. I hadn’t checked in.
“No kidding? Pre-air, so folks aren’t clued in on the show, but that autograph you left? ‘Song Woo-yeon Certified.’”
“Yeah. And?”
“That’s what put ’em on the map. Tasty too, sure.”
“Huh?”
One signature did all that?
“‘Song Woo-yeon-Approved Eats List’—it’s making the rounds online. You really miss it?”
“Haven’t been on SNS much.”
“A couple other shoot spots, plus this random spicy chicken stew place. Anyway, they made the list.”
“Whoa...”
Total blindside.
‘I promised that army stew spot I’d get lines out the door. Didn’t peg it happening pre-premiere.’
Kinda embarrassing—I rubbed the back of my neck.
“He must’ve caught wind. PD said he spread the word to hype up the other owners.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
Puzzle solved.
‘Saw proof of success, so he’s game to trust the process.’
The mystery of Park Man-soo’s compliance cracked wide open.
Way more mundane than I’d built up.
Kinda deflating.
“Do Kyung!”
“Whoa, manager’s here. Catch you later—next shoot!”
“Yeah, take care.”
I watched Do Kyung dash out, then grabbed my stuff and stood.
“Whoops. Time flew.”
Shoot ran long—appointment was cutting it close.
Couldn’t be late.
Because...
‘An event I absolutely can’t miss is waiting.’