Chapter 43
Chapter 43
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Totally Doable?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ah, I want to make a ton of money.
To achieve my dream, I really needed a massive amount of cash.
Building the system wasn't something you could do on the cheap.
Material costs and labor could somehow be covered by the monthly profits I was pulling in.
Daily revenue from the expanded 80-pyeong store came to about $25,000.
In Korean won, that was over 30 million a day.
Monthly revenue easily topped 600 million won.
But restaurants being what they are, net profit hovered around 25-30% of sales.
The actual take-home in my pocket was in the mid-to-late 100 million won range per month.
Even factoring in that this was America, it was a hell of a lot of money—but still nowhere near enough for my dream.
"Aaaah!!! Auntie~! I told you, that'll smash it too much~!"
"Aigoo~ Sorry, Boss Kim."
That's right.
Right now, I was making meju with the aunties I'd hired on a daily basis from the Korean Community Center.
Mashing boiled soybeans was more delicate work than it seemed.
You couldn't just stomp on them like you were grabbing an enemy by the collar, so I was wandering the workspace, eagle-eyeing everything.
The Korean Community Center called on these aunties pretty often, so somehow I'd become a 'big player' in the day-labor scene in the community.
"We have to shape all of this today. Move it, quick quick~"
Under my supervision, in the spot where we'd just roofed over and set up pillars for hanging the meju.
Already-matured meju blocks hung there in clusters, fermenting deliciously.
Roughly every two months, when the meju fermented nicely, we'd hold a big event to make soy sauce and doenjang from it.
Just looking at those dangling clusters made my stomach feel full.
"Boss Kim, I heard you got married? Word's out."
The community was small, so news spread fast.
"Haha, yeah. Got hitched not long ago."
I answered the regular auntie, and she grinned.
"Good timing~"
"You bet~ It's so great I don't even know. If I didn't have work piling up, I'd just stay home playing with my wife all day. But with all this, I'm dying here."
"Already like that? Total pushover for her~ Oh right! You hear about that?"
"Hear what?"
This neighborhood—what was with all the gossip?
Filling molds with mashed beans, shaping them, putting them in onion sacks, and hanging them up.
Simple repetitive work, so all we could do was chat.
"You know Berkeley High?"
Berkeley High?
Wasn't that near the store?
"The one in downtown?"
"Yeah, that one. Total chaos there recently~?"
That piqued my interest.
"Really? What happened?"
"Big incident. Kids got food poisoning from school lunch. Parents are furious."
Ah.
School lunch.
American school lunches had a notorious reputation.
Berkeley High was a well-known public high school, pretty prestigious.
Public schools provided free meals from elementary through high school, usually from private contractors.
Menus were typically burgers, pizza, tacos, pasta mains with fries, corn, or salad sides.
"Man, why mess around with kids' food like that."
At that point, I didn't think it was a huge deal.
American school lunches being awful was already world-famous.
Berkeley High School principal's office.
The space that was usually quiet brimmed with a tense, hostile air today.
A dozen furious parents surrounded Principal Smith.
Smith was trying to stay calm, but cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
Catherine, a mom whose kid was affected, spoke first.
"Principal! Explain what the hell happened!"
The other parents jumped in like they'd been waiting.
"My kid's been puking and shitting non-stop since last night! We even went to the ER!"
"It's the school lunch! What else did they eat there?"
"What the hell did you feed our kids?!"
Smith raised his hands to calm them.
"Moms, dads—please, settle down and hear me out. The school is deeply sorry about this food poisoning incident. We're investigating the exact cause with health authorities right now."
But his words were like pouring oil on a fire.
"Investigating? What kind of bullshit investigation!"
A burly dad raised his voice.
"The kids ate garbage—how's the cause not obvious?"
"Right! Those chicken nuggets yesterday? Totally undercooked!"
"My kid got a stomachache right after the milk! You check expiration dates or what?"
"What kind of contractor are you using for this crap?!"
"Was there bribery in picking them? Investigate that first!"
Sharp questions and accusations flew like arrows.
Smith looked embarrassed as he explained.
"The lunch contractor is selected not by the school alone, but through the district's regulations and bidding process. We try to choose the best within budget, but..."
"Best? This is your best?!"
Catherine piped up again.
"Playing games with kids' health is your best?!"
"Cancel that contract now!"
"Let parents help decide the lunch menu!"
"Yeah! No more pizza and burgers—real healthy food!"
"How long are you gonna feed them this cheap junk?!"
Smith let out a deep sigh.
"Moms, dads—I understand completely. But the budget is limited, and we have to follow district guidelines. Even if we want healthy meals, there are practical hurdles."
"Hurdles? That's your problem! Our kids are suffering—budget excuses?!"
"We won't let this slide! We're going to the press and filing a formal complaint with the district!"
The parents' anger showed no sign of cooling.
Smith sweated bullets trying to soothe them, but it was hopeless.
The thick tension in the office wasn't dissipating anytime soon.
The parents stormed out, faces twisted in rage.
Bang!
The last one slammed the door.
Smith slumped back in his chair, sighing deeply.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
The parents' top demand: replace the current lunch provider immediately.
Priority one.
Of course, the contractor was in an uproar, doing their own investigation.
But the fire at his feet was elsewhere.
"We can't starve the kids, so run lunches short-term at least!"
Selecting a new provider meant bidding announcements and at least a week.
How to feed 1,500 students' lunches in the meantime?
The biggest issue was, as always, money—the per-meal cost.
Current school lunch averaged $4-5 per student per meal.
Whole school: 1,500 students.
Conservatively at $4 each, that's $6,000 per meal.
Finding a provider for a tight-budget, urgent, short-term contract was damn near impossible.
Haa...
What to do...
Smith's sighs just got deeper.
"Totally doable?"
Principal Smith stared blankly at Ji-hoon, who sat grinning across from him.
Smith actually lived nearby in downtown and ate at Babsang now and then.
Today, he'd come to clear his head and vented to Ji-hoon, who looked free, about the lunch fiasco from a restaurateur's view.
And this was the response.
"Po... possible? For just $4 per head, 1,500 meals?"
"Of course."
Ji-hoon said it like it was obvious.
"Korean school lunches average $1.50 per meal."
"Whaaat!?"
Smith was shocked.
"How do you serve quality food for that?!"
"Why not? Totally possible. Contractors just skim too much off the top."
At Ji-hoon's casual remark, Smith clung desperately, face pleading.
"...Hey, Ji-hoon. Just three days. Can you handle lunches for our school, even that short?"
Ji-hoon pretended to think.
Smith wanted breakfast and lunch, two meals a day.
$4 per student x 1,500 = $6,000 daily.
Total $12,000 a day.
Three days: $36,000.
Less than Babsang's usual revenue.
But Ji-hoon saw it differently.
'Feeding 1,500 American kids Korean food? Jackpot event.'
In the future, they'd all be potential customers.
Plus, while schools struggled with lunch issues, prime chance to implant 'delicious, healthy Korean food' in their minds.
Ji-hoon was confident.
Confident he could show real Korean school lunches, leagues above their crappy bread scraps.
America's bulk prices made rice and meat way cheaper than Korea.
Since it was mass cooking anyway, easier than diverse single dishes at the store.
"Three days... yeah, I think we can swing it..."
As Ji-hoon played reluctant, Smith's face lit up.
"To... tomorrow after the school board meeting, I'll come right back to talk! Please, just a few days' help!"
"Hmm... okay. Prepayment upfront, got it? No post-pay."
At Ji-hoon's words, Smith nodded vigorously.
Like he'd met a savior.
"Nah~ Can't do it, can't~"
Dong-hyun's tantrum was, in its own way, pathetic.
I'd gotten the call from Mr. Smith and agreed to do three days of school lunches starting two days from now.
Maybe afraid I'd back out, Smith wired the money right away.
Why was Dong-hyun freaking out?
Simple.
Both Dong-hyun and I were army cook veterans.
Specialized in mass feeding.
So he was shuddering at reliving that hell.
"Dude, kids are starving. We gotta jump on this event."
America protected minors fiercely.
Elderly, women, kids—top priority everywhere.
Mass food poisoning hits, and helping out for three days till a new provider? What's the big deal.
Of course, no plans to lose money.
But Korean food style, plus America's cheap ingredients—plenty of profit potential.
Main meat dish, soup, kimchi, a few side dishes.
Confident I could beat their garbage lunches in quality.
And the school was right by the store.
Just mass-cook rice in the prep kitchen and deliver on time.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"$30k per day."
At my words, Dong-hyun—who'd been whining—shot up.
He chopped the air with his hand and yelled.
"Kids are starving—we can't sit idle! Right! They're our future customers!"
What a hand-chopping monk.
Whew.
"Three days total, six meals. Breakfast, lunch. Pick six simple mains—easy prep, max flavor. I'll grab more hands from prep kitchen and two-three aunties via the Community Center.
You post notice out front tomorrow: closed three days due to school lunch emergency. Folks'll understand—parents among 'em."
They were all Berkeley locals too. Someone's gotta be a parent.