The First Shareholders' Meeting
The super synergy effect was in full swing. “Pardon me, but which part are you referring to?”
Kim Dae-woo had personally overseen the preparation of ID Technology’s financial statements and double-checked every figure. The company seal had already been stamped. Being told there was an error would be a serious blow to his professional reputation.
“It’s the personnel expense line item.”
Personnel expenses? They didn’t constitute a particularly large portion of ID Technology’s operating costs. The headquarters office in Yeoju employed four people, the Seoul branch another four, and the California team two. That was the entire roster. In Yeoju, Kang Chan-ho, the former advertising shop owner, served as the executive in charge, while Lee Kyung-sik, Oh Dae-won, and driver-mechanic Kim Dae-seok handled production and security. The Seoul branch consisted of legal team chief Choi Kang-wook, short-term contractor Robert Halley, and two administrative staff. California had only Remington Sting and Ellen Schmitt.
The lawyers commanded the highest salaries, while the accounting and clerical staff earned the lowest. Even so, compensation remained well above industry averages. Software margins were so high that the company still turned a healthy profit. Cutting salaries further was possible, but that would simply mean paying more in corporate taxes. Since the decision had already been made to pay taxes honestly, the sensible approach was to offer generous wages and benefits. It improved morale and reduced the tax burden at the same time.
Was the criticism that the wages were too generous?
“Why is President Yoo Jae-won’s name missing from the salary ledger?”
Park Sang-kwon’s question caught Kim Dae-woo completely off guard.
“Not only that, it looks as though he’s been covering meal expenses and gifts out of his own pocket. Is that correct?”
The implication was clear: why was the president working without drawing a salary and even spending his personal funds on company matters?
It was true. Yoo Jae-won had been working without compensation. He had frequently paid for meals out of his own pocket when dining with Choi Kang-wook and the other employees.
“I hold the largest stake in the company,” Yoo Jae-won explained. “The more profit the company generates, the larger my own share becomes. There’s no issue.”
“We appreciate the loyalty and sense of ownership,” Park Sang-kwon replied, “but you are not the only shareholder. The rest of us also want the company to succeed.”
The principal and vice-principal nodded in agreement.
“It seems the president simply didn’t know how much to set his own salary at and left the matter unresolved. Why don’t we decide it for him right here?”
Seconded and approved. Although Yoo Jae-won held the majority stake, he could hardly object under the circumstances. His monthly salary was set on the spot at three million won, with additional bonuses and holiday payments to follow company regulations.
The amount was so large it made his father’s salary look modest by comparison. After all, the highest-paid employee at ID Technology was currently Choi Kang-wook at around 2.2 million won. Alan Smith in California received slightly less—an appropriate figure, given that he was not employed full-time. Yet the logic that the president could not earn less than the company’s lawyers produced the three-million-won figure.
Watching the shareholders determine the president’s salary, Kim Dae-woo felt a hollow sensation in his chest. He had barely scraped into Sogang University’s business school and, after grueling effort, finally passed the certified public accountant exam on his third attempt. Even after becoming a CPA, he had been unable to open his own practice due to lack of connections and had worked day and night at a tax firm before reaching partner level. Despite all that, his salary had yet to reach two million won, while Yoo Jae-won was now drawing three million. And when one considered the value of the shares these people held, they already belonged to an entirely different world—the world of chaebol families, a term used in the industry for those born into wealth.
Still, he felt little resentment. Having handled ID Technology’s accounting on multiple occasions, Kim Dae-woo knew Yoo Jae-won to be a decent man. The young president always spoke to him with respect and gave full consideration to his professional opinions in accounting and tax matters.
A golden rope.
When talk of salaries and dividends had first arisen, he had felt a twinge of envy, but if he managed this relationship well from now on, it would bring significant benefits both to his firm and to himself.
The first shareholders’ meeting of ID Technology concluded successfully. The shareholders and their families left hoping the business would continue to prosper and that future meetings would remain festive occasions. They did not leave empty-handed. Each attendee received a generous gift set of premium beef. Lee Kyung-sik, who worked in production and occasionally handled security, came from a family that ran a butcher shop. Yoo Jae-won had placed a special order for a modern-style Korean beef gift set. Packing prime cuts with ice packs inside Styrofoam boxes was a novel idea for both giver and recipient.
Having successfully hosted the shareholders’ meeting, Yoo Jae-won greeted the new year of 1989 in high spirits. Completing both the visit to the Blue House and the shareholders’ meeting had left him feeling light. Traditional Lunar New Year fell on February 6, so January 1 carried little holiday atmosphere, yet a major schedule already awaited him that month: a trip to the United States.
The prospect of meeting the young Remington Sting in California and visiting Silicon Valley was exciting. An encounter with the living legend John Carmack was also scheduled. He could hardly wait to depart. His parents, however, were anxious about sending him abroad. To them, Yoo Jae-won was still a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy, no matter how many adult responsibilities he had taken on. Even with Choi Kang-wook and Robert Halley accompanying him, the thought of their son traveling to a distant foreign land weighed heavily on them.
Time flowed like water. The new year of ’89 had felt like yesterday, yet ten days had already passed, and tomorrow was the day of departure. Their final meal together before he left carried a slightly subdued mood. They had made a firm promise to travel together on the next trip, which helped. His parents also made a deliberate effort to stay cheerful; they could worry after he was gone, but for now they wanted to send him off with encouragement.
“Use this for living expenses, Mother,” Yoo Jae-won said as they finished eating, holding out an envelope.
“Hm? This is… a bankbook.”
It was indeed a bankbook—the one into which his newly approved monthly salary would be deposited. The post office logo was clearly visible. It was not a slush fund account but a freshly opened one. While interest rates at Nonghyup or Kookmin Bank were higher, the post office was right nearby, making withdrawals convenient whenever living expenses were needed.
“Good heavens! How much is in here?”
The balance far exceeded his parents’ expectations: 47.7 million won. It represented the full amount of his 1988 dividends after tax, plus the November and December salary he had never drawn. His parents had received roughly ten million won in dividends as shareholders, but that was nothing compared to their son’s share. There had been a brief exchange—“We don’t need this,” “Please accept it”—but parents could never truly win against their child. The salary bankbook was placed firmly in his mother’s hands.
“As I mentioned before, three million won will be deposited every month. So there’s no need for you to continue working as a door-to-door saleswoman, Mother, or for Father to keep going to the rice bran oil factory.”
He had said this before, but now that ID Technology was on solid footing, there was no reason to insist on continuing. “Learn to drive, study real estate transactions and court auctions. You’ll be able to help me later. The real estate outlook is extremely promising.”
“Is that so? I’ll think about it.”
This time the response was positive, unlike before. After returning from America, he expected an even more favorable answer.
Before departing, Yoo Jae-won made one final stop at the Deokjin-ri police substation. He arrived with six sets of the famous Yeoju beef gift sets loaded in the car—one for each officer on duty. The substation chief’s set was made especially heavy. He had no grand favor to ask. Rumors had spread through Deokjin-ri that ID Technology’s shareholders had received a windfall from the dividends. He simply wanted to request more frequent patrols around Naeo Village.
The chief accepted the gift without embarrassment and promised to increase patrols. Relieved, Yoo Jae-won could now depart for America with peace of mind.
The next day, the company’s first vehicle, the Grandeur, returned to Naeo Village. Yoo Jae-won climbed in with a small carry-on. His parents had originally packed twice as much luggage, but since he wasn’t traveling to a remote region and could buy anything he needed locally, he had reduced it to only the essentials. Having never even gone on a school trip, his parents found the sight of him leaving strangely unfamiliar. Still, he did not hide his composed demeanor; there was no point in dragging unnecessary weight.
In Seoul, Choi Kang-wook and Robert Halley joined him. Their luggage reflected their respective situations. Choi Kang-wook traveled light like Yoo Jae-won, while Robert Halley’s bags were piled high—he was visiting his homeland after a long absence and had bought numerous gifts for relatives.
After confirming passports, visas, and other necessities, the group headed to Gimpo International Airport. Check-in proceeded smoothly, and they boarded their scheduled flight. The plane that would carry Yoo Jae-won to America was a Korean Air Boeing 747 jumbo jet. All three passengers were seated in first class—seats worth several million won each. The expense was not ID Technology’s burden, however; Electronic Arts was covering airfare, accommodation, and even acting as guarantor. Yoo Jae-won’s work had become an enormous success in the United States, and the company was naturally eager for his next project. They had spared no convenience to secure a firm commitment during this visit.
Thanks to their generosity, the three enjoyed first-class luxury. Flight attendants guided them to their seats, provided slippers and blankets, and served welcome drinks along with nut snacks. If anything was needed, a button was all it took.
While enjoying the refreshments, a chime sounded.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with Korean Air today. This is Captain Pyun Jong-seok, and I will be flying you to San Francisco International Airport. This aircraft will depart Gimpo International Airport, cruising at an altitude of 12,000 meters and a speed of 900 kilometers per hour. The flight to San Francisco International Airport will take approximately ten hours and forty minutes. Korean Air promises a safe journey and will do its utmost to ensure your comfort.”
As the captain’s announcement ended, the plane began to move.
Finally, they were departing.
Let’s go—to America, the land of opportunity, the empire of gold.