Talents Flooding In Like Waves (1)
"Hmm? This is interesting?"
There were a lot of people with unique skills.
Since it was a restaurant business, resumes from primary producers supplying ingredients really stood out.
"Hmm~ Military service done. Oh? He ran a 'Kim Fish Farm'? This one's tempting."
I stared intently at the resume on the monitor.
Experience: 3 years operating smart farm (leafy greens specialist)
"Oh ho~ A smart farm."
I was spending my time meticulously going through the flood of resumes that had poured in via email.
Some were obvious jokes, but surprisingly, there were plenty of solid talents who had lived diligently and intensely.
Truth be told, our company's farms in America were already smart farm systems.
But they weren't the narrow container-style vertical farms common in Korea. These were massive open-field smart farms spanning vast lands, sown and managed by drones.
No need to stack crops in tight containers when the land was expansive and not as cramped as Korea's.
Right now, essential Korean ingredients like soybeans, garlic, green onions, and onions were growing across millions of pyeong of land in our farm complexes.
Land for farming in America wasn't all that expensive compared to Korea.
But what caught my eye were people like this applicant—experts in leafy greens, specialty crops, or aquaculture.
"Hmm... A 15% tariff is hefty..."
Importing Korean ingredients or processed goods to America had limits due to tariffs and logistics costs.
Long-term, building specialty crop production zones in the US for self-sufficiency was overwhelmingly cost-effective.
"This one's worth seriously considering."
I clicked and sorted the intriguing resumes into a separate folder.
Kim Jin-su.
This guy had a good vibe.
Click!
Just then, the study door opened, and Lily came in with a fruit plate and cool drinks.
"Honey~ Eat this while you work!"
"Yeah, thanks. My mouth was getting dry anyway."
After focusing so hard, my blood sugar was dipping, and Lily sensed it like a ghost and took care of me.
"Hehe. It's what a wife should do!"
Lily set the tray on one corner of my desk and beamed radiantly.
That smile made my heart tingle.
Lately, I'd been screening resumes even at home, so I hadn't spent much time with her and felt guilty about it.
I took her hand and said,
"I'll be done soon, so how about we go for a walk later?"
"Really!? Yay!"
Lily's eyes curved into half-moons.
Just a stroll around the neighborhood made her happy as if she owned the world.
She was so simple and lovable.
Seeing her find joy in just being with me made me feel like I was receiving more love than I deserved every day.
Hmm. I should be the one giving more love.
Of course, marriage wasn't one-sided.
It was about giving and receiving, filling each other up.
"Then, honey~ I'll get your outing clothes ready~ Finish up slowly and come out~"
"Yeah~"
Worried about disturbing my work, Lily carefully closed the door behind her.
Click.
Silence returned to the room.
"Ugh~ Not much left."
I stretched and checked the number at the bottom of the monitor.
About 100 left.
Piece of cake.
With emails pouring in daily, it was best to process today's batch today and not let them pile up.
"Alright, let's speed through this?"
Thinking of the walk with Lily put me in a light mood as I clicked the next unread email.
For men across the nation groaning under the system's injustices like Jin-su, a single email arrived like salvation.
The selection criteria were clear: thorough military service completers and technicians ready for immediate on-site deployment.
Jihad was set on poaching Korea's backbone—the men who propped up the nation and would pay massive taxes in the future—to America.
Korean society undervalued young men's worth far too much.
In a barbaric era, young men with the strongest bodies would have been the law and power itself.
But somehow, in civilized society, it was the opposite.
Pile on duties like mountains while stripping rights, grinding them to turn the giant cogwheel of society.
The Korean government and elites still didn't know.
Once this first batch crossed to America and succeeded in their 'Second American Dream,' the exodus of witnessing men would become an uncontrollable flood.
Jihad's calculations were utterly realistic and cold.
People working far from home have no choice but to toughen up.
In Korea? If the job got tough or the boss was unfair, they could quit in a huff—It's shitty, I'm out!—and toss their resignation.
They had a safety net: parents' home as the last bastion, friends nearby.
But how many would give up easily after crossing the Pacific to America?
At least recoup the flight cost.
Above all, they'd earn far more dollars than in Korea's shitty SMEs or rigid public sector, so they'd grit their teeth and endure.
Just like Southeast Asian workers silently toiling in Korean factories and farms chasing the Korean Dream.
Plus, Korean men were born with good handiwork skills and quick learning curves.
Most astonishing was their temperament.
If Korean men got treated like they do in France or Europe? Molotov cocktails would fly, violent protests would burn parliaments.
But Korean men took endless fire, did their jobs quietly, and swallowed their resentment inside.
From a manager's view, no better workers existed.
Jihad was plotting on a massive scale.
The model in his head? Korea's 'Ulsan.'
What comes to mind with Ulsan? Hyundai.
A giant corporation sustaining the whole city.
Jihad took the hint.
Turn Hansang into America's Hyundai Group.
Not just building farms and factories.
Fill America's barren rural lands with company people, make the local economy impossible without Hansang.
The resulting massive Korean town—no, Hansang City—residents would naturally become his strongest support base and shield.
For that, form villages around the farm complexes where people could live.
Right now, just empty rural backwater, but no matter.
Money draws people, people draw infrastructure.
In democracy, population is power.
Jihad was laying the first brick of that grand plan.
California.
A massive state claiming half the US West Coast.
40 million people—the most populous in America—and territory four times South Korea's size.
Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Jose, San Diego, Sacramento.
Glamorous megacities at name-drop, but step beyond their borders and endless plains and farms stretch out.
Mild Mediterranean climate, fertile soil.
California was America's breadbasket.
Among them, Hansang's first agricultural production base: Vacaville.
Tucked between San Francisco and Sacramento, a peaceful small city of about 100,000.
Too bustling for "boonies."
Big outlets drew weekend shoppers, Walmart and Target loomed large, well-kept housing complexes dotted around.
Family-run farms with history mingled with sun-kissed vineyards— a great place to live.
But lately, locals were scratching their heads more often.
"Hey, Bob. See who moved next door?"
"Yeah, those Asian guys? Saw 'em."
An unfamiliar sight in Vacaville.
Black-haired, sturdy East Asian men.
Not tourists passing through.
They drove moving trucks, filling empty rentals and small houses one by one.
Not one or two.
Dozens, hundreds of young men flocking in like they'd coordinated.
"What the hell are these guys?"
Locals buzzed.
They didn't know.
These were the 'employees' Jihad handpicked from Korea.
Labor honed in Korea's brutal military and cutthroat society—world-class diligence.
They unpacked in Vacaville's neighborhoods.
Shopped groceries at marts, hauled beds from furniture stores, sweated at local gyms.
The quiet rural town got a transfusion of vibrant 'young blood.'
Just as Jihad planned, the foundation of 'Hansang City' was being laid.
Mark Chairman's face was baffled when he first heard my plan.
"No, Chairman. You said push forward aggressively!"
Hansang already had plenty of Korean staff.
Core menu developers—nutritionists—were mostly Korea-qualified talents paired with local US ones for meal plans.
Koreans were always placed in kitchen and management roles at each outlet.
The issue was speed and scale.
Work visas required joint paperwork from business and HR depts, guarantees to immigration.
Sudden hundreds-scale hiring?
I could almost hear screams from HR buried in resume mountains.
"......How do you plan to handle labor costs? America's are killer."
Mark Chairman nailed it.
Current catering and Bapsang profits alone couldn't cover it.
But I eyed future explosive growth, not now.
"Don't worry. We'd hire more as production ramps up anyway. Long-term, local production beats tariffs hands down."
Luckily, company coffers were solid.
Thanks to Mark Chairman's early massive investment, reserves were ample.
Vacaville land was cheap, and once the bento factory finished and spun up, profits would J-curve skyward.
"Hmm... Filling a whole town with Hansang employees..."
On the video screen, Mark Chairman stroked his chin, still unconvinced.
I went all-in.
"Chairman."
"Speak."
"If this fails, I'll give you all my shares."
"......What? That confident?"
His eyes widened.
I met his gaze steadily.
"Of course. Look at Detroit—auto giants revived it. LA's movies, San Francisco's IT heart."
I caught my breath and continued.
"Chicago on the other side became the US food manufacturing hub via industry and logistics. LA's known for processing too, but mostly meat, simple fruits and veggies. No comprehensive food hub like Chicago in the West."
"Hooh..."
"I want Bapsang and Hansang to fill that gap. Make Vacaville the West's food hub."
Mark Chairman fell silent, deep in thought.
Moments later, a faint smile crept on his lips.
"......Fine. Hoon, I'll bet on your crazy plan."
"Thank you, Chairman!"
I exhaled in relief.
But not over yet.
"Oh! One more favor?"
"Hm? What?"
Curious look from Mark Chairman.
I cautiously broached it.
"Chairman, know any reliable construction contacts?"
"Construction? Why suddenly?"
"Well, to massively expand facilities, we need builders who fit our taste. We're starting a huge smart farm complex—could you introduce someone good?"
US contractors were notoriously slow.
But Mark Chairman's network likely had speed-and-skill combos.
"Hmm... Got it. I'll look into it."
Thus, the talk with Mark Chairman wrapped successfully.