The Advertising Contract

A meeting had been arranged with the company that would, for all practical purposes, be our advertiser.

I'd meant to hold it at our own café, or in the studio on the third floor, but a sudden rush of customers made that impossible. The studio was out as well. I'd stockpiled so much footage that both editors were working at a furious clip, and calling a meeting in there would obviously wreck their pace. They were cranking out videos like a factory line. Getting in their way would only cost me, so I had no choice but to set the appointment at another café near home.

I was sitting in the place I'd picked, sipping a lemonade—the one drink almost no café on earth can ruin—when two men in sharply pressed suits came over.

"Good afternoon. I'm Ma Sitak, from Myjeong Pet Food. This is my junior, Jo Matae."

"A pleasure. Jo Matae."

Watching the pair dip into deep bows, I knew at once they were from the company I'd be signing an advertising contract with today.

"What can I get you?"

"Ah, we'll order for ourselves."

Ma Sitak, clearly the senior of the two, gave Jo Matae a couple of taps, and Jo Matae trotted off at once to order. I offered a quiet, token condolence to the junior-employee misery I'd once lived through myself, and by the time I looked back, animal feed had appeared on the table. Not the big bulk sacks, but small packs they'd evidently brought along for the occasion. Feed for the creatures people meet most easily—dogs, cats, rabbits, and the like—sat lined up in a neat row.

"These are the products we'd like to commission you to advertise, Mr. Shinsoo."

I looked over the feed spread across the table. The packaging was uniform from one bag to the next: the dog food bore a dog, the cat food a cat. And, as if to follow that same design all the way through, the product names were unified as well.

You could tell at a glance which product was meant for which animal. As if determined to live up to those names, the creatures drawn on the wrappers even had speech bubbles shouting "Myjeong!"

"Forgive me for asking, but... have you stopped paying the product-planning team?"

"...We objected too. The president forced it through. Said it had to be intuitive."

Ma Sitak let out a sigh packed so tight with the sorrows of office life that I felt sorry for him and Jo Matae both.

"Even so, whatever you make of the names and the design, I can say with confidence that the products themselves are excellent. The details are all here."

He held out several sheets of paper. They looked like research materials, crowded with figures and graphs, and a quick pass was enough to boil them down. The feed was a great help to the animals' growth and contained every essential nutrient. That was the whole of it.

"This feed truly is safe for animals, and good for them. Safe enough that a person could eat it without any trouble at all."

As if he meant to prove the point then and there, Ma Sitak tore a pack open, took a pinch of what was inside, and started crunching.

"Would you care to try some? It's honestly pretty good. Like kongkong balls—those crunchy little soybean puffs—with most of the sweetness taken out? That's the closest I can put it. Cereal-like, but the flavor leans savory rather than sweet."

"I-I'm all right, thank you."

I turned down the handful he offered. Safe for human consumption or not, I had no desire to eat it. I was curious about the taste, I'll admit, but his description had already told me plenty. There was no need to confirm it myself.

"A shame. It's better than you'd think."

Watching him crunch away, I nearly wavered. From the look of it, he might as well have been eating snacks. I gave my head a small shake and pulled myself together.

"You brought a draft of the contract, I assume?"

"Ah, yes! I'll show you right away."

At that, Ma Sitak set down the feed he'd been eating and dug hurriedly through his bag until he produced a paper envelope.

"Here is the draft we prepared. Please look it over, Mr. Shinsoo, and if there's anything you'd like changed, just say so."

He was making it plain they stood ready to revise the contract however much was needed, and that I shouldn't hesitate to ask for whatever I wanted. I nodded, and the advice Byeong-jin had given me before the meeting came back.

I'd planned to bring Byeong-jin along and lean on his help, but he'd gone abroad to enter an international agility competition with Mungchi, who'd gotten famous at the agility trials, so hands-on assistance was out of reach. Even so, I couldn't kick an opportunity like this aside just because Byeong-jin wasn't here, and there was no reason I couldn't handle this much myself. I went through the contract Myjeong Pet Food had put forward, line by careful line.

Nothing in it would do me real harm. It wasn't perfect, either. A few clauses would turn into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a headache if anything went wrong, and more than a few words were loose enough to be read another way if you worked at them.

"Please delete this part... and this part too. Oh, this one as well. Here... you can just wipe out everything through here."

"...Are you truly going to draw up the contract like this?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

Faced with my perfectly confident question, Ma Sitak couldn't get a word out. He sat there with his mouth hanging open, staring at the contract I'd striped with line after line. On the pages I'd slashed—stroke, stroke, stroke after stroke—only a handful of lines could still be read. Set against the original the company had offered, what survived wasn't even a tenth.

Rewritten into a contract where not a single trick could hide, it was much easier on the eyes. I'd fixed the places where they'd used a difficult word when an easy one would do, and I'd struck every condition I didn't like, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what remained was a contract that suited me perfectly. I wasn't thrilled to find myself down as Party B, the side that usually takes the orders, but people do talk about a super Party B—the one who quietly holds the real leverage—so I decided to let it pass in good humor. I would be deciding the entire direction of the videos myself. That much, I could accept.

Of course, my being willing to overlook it didn't mean the other side would agree. A contract isn't something one party can force through alone. Even so, when Ma Sitak took the contract I'd revised, he nodded slowly.

"At this level, we can proceed without any trouble. Shall we draw up a fresh contract exactly as it stands?"

"Yes."

At my answer, Ma Sitak handed the slashed-up contract to Jo Matae. Jo Matae had brought the drinks back while I was drawing lines, and he never got a moment to enjoy them. He seized the papers and sprinted for the parking lot. After a short ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wait, he returned with a new contract.

"Whoa... how did you do that?"

"We keep a laptop and a portable printer in the car. It's a little slow, and it doesn't do color, but printing a few simple pages is nothing at all."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠checked the contract Jo Matae had brought back. Every change I'd requested was in place, and there wasn't a single typo. Confirming it was exactly what I'd wanted, with nothing amiss, I signed on the spot. The quality wasn't poor enough to stain my name, and the terms on offer were decent. There was no reason to hesitate.

"Thank you! We'll be counting on you from here on!"

Ma Sitak, now holding one of the two copies we'd split between us, broke into the happiest of smiles and bowed to me again and again. Pull a contract like this off and there'd be a performance bonus in it, I figured, as I got to my feet.

"Ah! Mr. Shinsoo. Might I ask one favor?"

"A favor?"

"Yes. If it wouldn't be an imposition, could you see how the sacred beasts react to the feed we brought? For a company that pursues pet food that's good for animals, and that animals actually like, it's something we're terribly curious about."

"...Well, I can throw that in for free."

At that, not only Ma Sitak but Jo Matae bent at the waist in thanks. As if even that fell short, the two of them went so far as to haul the sacks of feed from their car into mine. There was something pitiful about them sweating through the suits they'd dressed so carefully in, but thanks to them I got the whole load moved without shedding a drop myself.

"Then I'll be in touch again soon."

"Yes! Please call anytime!"

I left Ma Sitak's declaration behind me—that he'd pick up even if someone woke him from a dead sleep—and headed straight for the café.

Once I arrived, I took one of the sacks the staff had helped me carry in and ripped it open with a brisk tear. It was the one with a single dog drawn on it, the sack of dog food.

"Smells delicious!"

"Sir. Apologies for speaking while on duty, but would a small portion be permissible, sir?"

"…………………………Me too."

"What's this, what's this! What in the world is this smell! Now that there's a mighty fine smell, I'll tell ya!"

Whether their pursuit of pet food that was good for animals and loved by animals had been empty talk or not, the canids came running the moment the sack came open. First was Jjamong, who'd been plastered up against the customers, then Cheongho, coming over from near the counter where Noona stood. Natae joined them too, of all things still cradled in some guest's arms. Even Daepodong and Sopodong came scrabbling over, practically rolling along the floor.

Hold on. You raccoons aren't even in the dog family.

Not canines, and still gunning for the dog food—these pint-sized thieves were sidling around the sack, quietly scouting for a place to grab hold, as if they meant to make off with the whole thing.