The First Step to Changing a City
And then I brought up the next slide.
"The third reform measure. We will award points for uncovering civil complaints."
"Any employee who identifies even a minor grievance or inconvenience on the part of our citizens and registers it in the complaints ledger will receive points that count toward their personnel evaluation."
Vice Mayor Jin Mu-gyeol immediately raised a question.
"You've just instructed that complaints cannot be filed directly with the responsible department, but must first pass through the Complaints Office. Wouldn't that make it harder for staff to uncover complaints in the first place?"
I put on a grave expression before answering.
"Of course it will be difficult. Which is exactly the point — from now on, you'll have to go out into the field and find the problems yourselves. Those of you in this room are already managers, so you may have forgotten what it's like, but put yourselves in the shoes of a frontline civil servant."
Several officials wore pained expressions.
"You know all too well how often they get saddled with work nobody wants, or lose an entire day to a single unexpected complaint call. Haven't you been through exactly that yourselves? The frustration of wanting to break that vicious cycle but never being able to — that's what I intend to fix."
Then one official raised his hand.
"I'm Lee Jeong-su, Head of the Social Welfare Division. Complaints vary in weight, don't they? Some can be resolved with a phone call, while others take months or cost a great deal of money. If we evaluate every complaint by the same standard, won't that create a fairness problem?"
I answered calmly, as if I had been expecting the question.
"As I've already said, we're only counting complaints that are uncovered. How each one gets handled doesn't matter. What matters is finding and recording the problems citizens actually experience. That said, this doesn't mean we'll neglect complaint processing. Registered complaints go into the ledger, and if nothing is resolved over time, citizens will naturally raise the issue. In the end, everything gets resolved — even if it takes time."
Only then did a few heads begin to nod.
"The heart of this system is changing the attitude of officials who view incoming complaints as a burden to be minimized. A complaint is not something to avoid — it's something to listen to actively and resolve. Even when an immediate fix isn't possible, the goal is to surface the problems citizens have been reluctant to voice, and to build an administration that strives to solve them."
I emphasized the point once more.
"My goal is to reform this administration. Not an organization where civil servants work comfortably, but one that moves proactively on behalf of its citizens. And—"
That was when someone raised a hand and cut me off.
"I think the intent is excellent. But in an emergency disaster situation, wouldn't routing every contact through the Complaints Office slow down our response time?"
For a moment, irritation flared up inside me.
"If I, as Mayor, have set the broad direction and the basic guidelines, then isn't it up to the organization to discuss and adjust the finer operational details internally? I'm not demanding you accept my intent without question — but must you really pick apart every trivial point like this?"
The meeting room went instantly silent.
"I apologize."
Everyone around the room seemed to cast wary glances at the official who had spoken. I deliberately let the silence hang for a moment.
"If you find this reform proposal difficult to accept, you are free to reject it."
The officials stared at me, tension written across every face. The room fell so still that I could hear no one breathing.
Then I softened my stern expression and added one final remark.
"Now — Mr. Vice Mayor, I'd like you to form a task force team and work out a concrete implementation plan. There's plenty more I want to try, but today we'll limit ourselves to the three most urgent measures."
When the meeting ended, I called for Chief of Staff Kang Seol-heon.
"Get me Noh Chae-eun and Cho Yeon-woo. The Mayor's office. Right now."
Kang Seol-heon nodded without a word. She had probably already figured it out — that from this moment on, my time belonged only to the people who could actually move.
Honestly, the textbook approach would have been to summon the bureau directors. Control the dozen or so directors, and the rest of the organization follows. That was how things had always been done.
But I had no intention of following that playbook.
That was administration of the past tense. And most of those directors would soon be clearing out their desks. A few were already scheduled for their retirement recognition training, and the rest had barely six months left until mandatory retirement.
No more promotions ahead of them — just the quiet final stretch of a career, waiting on a pension.
Pushing them hard would only breed resentment, not results.
Besides, these days, even the mayor's favor bought a retiring official nothing more than a token directorship at a city-affiliated organization after retirement. Words like innovation and change simply didn't motivate people like that.
So I chose differently. Cho Yeon-woo, Head of the Citizen Space Design Division, not yet forty — and Noh Chae-eun, Head of the Planning and Budget Division, forty-two. Add Kang Seol-heon, who always stood at my side. This was where we would begin — though I would need far more talent than this before long.
As a mayor who had taken office at just twenty-seven, the resources actually in my hands were few. The budget, the personnel, the organization itself — every direction had a wall.
But knowing how to use people — that was the one domain where I was more confident than anyone.
Noh Chae-eun was a figure nobody could take lightly when it came to budgets. That cold composure with which she had once dissected my numbers line by line, testing me to my face — I had actually liked it.
What truly mattered was this: even as Mayor, the budget would never move an inch without passing through her hands. At least, not in the world of administration.
And Cho Yeon-woo. The Car-Free Street project had confirmed it for me. Young, capable, with a real design sensibility. If I was going to shape policy without revealing that I was an urban planning expert myself, I had no choice but to make full use of him.
The door to the Mayor's office opened quietly, and the three of them came in. I remained seated, letting my gaze settle on each of them in turn.
"Sorry to call you in today. I know you're tired after the briefing, but let's talk for just a moment."
All three nodded quietly. The atmosphere was neither stiff nor casual. I pushed the documents on my desk to one side and spoke slowly.
"To be honest with you — if I'm going to do anything from here on out, I need the three of you. I'm asking for your help."
A brief silence settled over the room. And in that moment, I understood. This was the real starting line of my tenure as Mayor of Yeojin City.
Having said my piece, I deliberately left the rest unsaid. Now it was their turn to respond.
The first to speak was Noh Chae-eun. As expected, her grasp of reality was quick.
"Mayor, any realistic budget allocation will require coordination between departments. If you simply throw out a direction, it won't carry through to an actual budget plan. If there are departments we can count on for cooperation... you'll need to identify them clearly for us."
I nodded.
"Yes. I'll work that out personally and brief you. That's precisely why I called this meeting."
Noh Chae-eun gave a small nod and quietly took out her notebook. Her face carried the focus of someone who had already identified the work ahead.
Then I turned my gaze to Cho Yeon-woo. He hesitated for a moment, lowered his eyes, then looked straight back at me.
"My division, the one renamed from Urban Planning to Citizen Space Design, is entangled with half the departments in City Hall as it is. You understand I can't move on this alone?"
I smiled.
"I do. Which is why I'll be the one moving."
Cho Yeon-woo studied me for a moment, then let out a faint laugh. He nodded slowly.
"...All right. Let's do it."
Finally, Kang Seol-heon. Without a word, she simply gave a quiet nod.
That single gesture carried a great deal of meaning. The expression of someone saying, I already knew this was coming. And eyes that said, Let's begin.
And that was that. It wasn't a meeting, and it wasn't an order. Just the first signal exchanged among the people who would be moving together from here on out.
But each of those quiet agreements was, to me, the true starting point of transforming the city of Yeojin.
Of course, I needed more than these three. I could already see younger, hungrier talent waiting to be found. I would have to build a plan to bring them alongside, one step at a time.
An administrative reorganization is not a simple internal adjustment. Even a mayor cannot freely rename bureaus and divisions or shuffle their responsibilities at will.
In the end, it requires amending municipal ordinances, and every amendment must pass through the City Council. Without persuading the council, even the finest reform proposal was nothing more than a piece of paper.
Normally, a mayor wouldn't handle this personally. The vice mayor or the planning director would negotiate with the council while the mayor lent quiet backing — that was the standard practice. But I had no intention of following precedent.
Vice Mayor Jin Mu-gyeol, reviewing the reorganization plan in the meeting room, asked me:
"Mr. Mayor, you intend to approach the City Council yourself?"
I nodded.
"Yes. I'll meet with the Chairman and the key councilors personally and make the case."
"Mr. Mayor, the City Council exists to check the administration's policies. However capable you may be, stepping forward yourself will only invite resistance. Politicians are proud people. The Chairman in particular will consider himself your equal in power."
He wasn't wrong. The council and the administration stood in a relationship of checks and balances.
My going in person could create the impression that the mayor was steamrolling the council. But this reorganization plan was a policy I had built with my own hands.
"I'm aware of that. Which is why I won't push head-on."
I said it with a light smile.
"The way to do this is to concede a little, let them have their say, and get what I actually need."
Kim Jun-tae. Chairman of the Yeojin City Council. A three-term councilor and a central figure in the native political establishment of Yeojin. On the surface he played the part of a reasonable mediator, but beneath it he was a man who took his cut of everything, without fail.
Politically he leaned the same way as my father, Yeo Byeong-guk — conservative, establishment — yet he was also the kind of political snake who would shake hands with anyone if it served him.
I arranged to meet Chairman Kim Jun-tae alone. Not at an official council session — I asked him to set aside a separate time.
When I arrived at the restaurant, Kim Jun-tae was already there. He was the type who normally made people wait for him, so today was an exception. Perhaps he had been mindful of the fact that the mayor himself was coming to see him.
"When I heard the Mayor himself was coming, I thought I'd best arrive first."
Chairman Kim Jun-tae rose from his seat, took my hand, and broke into a hearty laugh.
"Thank you for taking the time, Chairman."
I offered my greeting with due humility.
Kim Jun-tae held my hand a moment longer than necessary, studying me, then slowly let go.
"The Mayor coming in person means it must be something important. The administrative reorganization plan, I take it?"
He had good instincts, as expected.
"That's right. I need the Council's cooperation."
I took my seat and laid out my case calmly.
"Let me be blunt with you, Mr. Mayor."
Kim Jun-tae took a sip of tea and looked at me.
"You're young and driven, fine. But the Council is not a simple place. Every last one of our councilors wields real influence in his own district. No one will oppose your first policy openly. But—"
He gave a meaningful smile.
"No one will vote for it without conditions, either."
Of course. Everyone here keeps one eye on what's in it for them.
I smiled to myself.
"I trust our councilors also want the reorganization to move in a direction of cooperation with the Council."
"Naturally. But this reorganization plan of yours, Mr. Mayor — a few adjustments may be in order."
There it was — the real business at last. I looked at Kim Jun-tae and asked quietly:
"And what exactly are these 'adjustments' you have in mind, Chairman?"
Kim Jun-tae smiled pleasantly.
"Some of our councilors have concerns about specific divisions. Take the one being renamed the 'Urban Culture and Creative Division.' Under the old Culture and Tourism Division, it managed quite a number of projects. Now some councilors worry that a new name means a new direction for those projects. The ones who've spent years securing culture-related budgets, in particular, are anxious about their districts losing funding."
So it came down to money, in the end. I nodded.
"It's only natural that councilors work hard for their districts. I agree the cultural budget must not shrink. Which is why I have a proposal."
I met Kim Jun-tae's eyes as I continued.
"We will actually increase the culture-related budget. But instead of carving it up by division as before, we'll introduce a competitive grant process, awarded project by project. That way, the district events and programs our councilors want can proceed — fairly, for everyone."
For an instant, Kim Jun-tae's eyes sharpened. A competitive grant process? That meant councilors could no longer direct the budget wherever they pleased.
But flip it around — what if the review process gave the City Council a formal, expanded role? Kim Jun-tae drummed his fingers on the table for a long moment, then smiled.
"You've given this some real thought, Mr. Mayor."
I smiled back.
"Thank you. I'm glad it meets with your approval."
That night, the negotiation with the City Council concluded more easily than I had expected. We agreed to adjust the names of a few divisions, and I proposed to the council that the cultural budget be preserved but converted to the competitive grant model.
Kim Jun-tae didn't give a definitive answer on the spot — but his expression said he was more than satisfied.