How I Brought Discipline to South America
There is one immutable truth in the stock market.
The ones who hold on always win. If you're certain you picked a good stock, then even when the storms howl and the market plunges, the one who weathers it is the one who smiles in the end. That is the iron law of the market.
And today, I confirmed that truth with my own two hands.
On the day that marked three months and two weeks since our Arduous March began, America's shutdown finally ended, and the USAID loan came through.
They say a time of tribulation ends in a thunderclap. Our tear-soaked Arduous March was over at last.
"Khuh..."
I quieted the swell in my chest, straightened my collar, and opened the conference room door with a stride that had every right to be proud.
The Senior Presidential Secretaries rose from their seats as one.
"Good morning. I take it you've all heard the news... let's start by reviewing the current issues. Education Secretary?"
At my cue, Sergio launched confidently into his report.
"How do you plan to execute the budget?"
"Yes. Now that the shortfall in the education fund has been fully replenished, we intend to rapidly execute the plans that have been sitting idle. In particular, we will expedite the construction of additional schools to ease the burden on overcrowded ones."
"Good. How's the university coming along?"
"We've finished the foundation work, and the frames are going up. We expect three more months until completion."
"Three months... isn't that a little too fast?"
"There is a separate secret to how we were able to shorten the construction period."
Sergio explained with a faint smile.
"First, rather than building high-rises, we used the ample land to spread the campus across multiple two- and three-story buildings. The construction method became simpler, so the work is moving much faster. And we deployed a large number of former public officials who had been sent out to Tortilla Farm to lend a hand."
"Ah."
"Thanks to all the shoveling and pickaxe work at the Farm, their stamina is excellent. Moreover, they originally came from the Ministry of Construction and the Ministry of Land, so they can read a blueprint. When we offered the condition that they would be returned to their original departments once construction was finished, a great many people volunteered."
After going through that whole ordeal, they really did know how to work.
"Excellent. Truly outstanding."
Reports from the other departments followed in turn.
"Reclamation of Tortilla Farm's third plantation has been completed. The quality of the corn harvested this round is more than twenty percent better than in previous years. Hitting this year's food self-sufficiency target should be well within reach."
"Tortilla F&B's lunchbox program has entered a stable phase. There have been reports that the students' nutritional condition has visibly improved."
"The public safety situation is also good. Over the past month, not a single crime has occurred — misdemeanors included."
I found myself nodding along through every report.
Food, education, public safety. The most basic conditions of a functioning nation were, at last, falling into place.
"You've all worked hard."
I closed the briefing folder and looked around at the secretaries.
"The Arduous March is over at last. We intend to put speed on the infrastructure projects that have only been plans until now, so I'll be counting on all of you."
The Senior Presidential Secretaries answered as one, and the meeting came to a close.
I was heading back to my office when Isabella fell into step beside me.
"Your Excellency, I have good news."
"What is it?"
"I am told that Taeyang Apparel's factory will begin full-scale operations starting tomorrow."
"Oh, really? Leave it to Koreans to be that fast. Feels like they only broke ground yesterday, and they're already running."
"It would appear Senior Secretary Aman was of considerable assistance."
It was a speed unimaginable in South America.
Clearing the administrative obstacles was one thing, but building a factory, hiring people, and getting it running was purely the company's job. To pull that off in this short a time — that was the Korean hurry-hurry spirit for you.
"Did they finish preparations properly?"
"Yes. According to the report, equipment inspections have been completed perfectly, and the trial-run results were satisfactory."
"And the products?"
"They plan to produce OEM volumes of Likey's running shoes and sportswear, contracted through the U.S. headquarters. Employment and basic training for the two thousand workers have already been completed."
Two thousand jobs. And not just any jobs — employment at a foreign firm paying over four hundred dollars a month. It was bound to be a serious shot in the arm for the San Marcos economy.
"Is there anything we can help with? Power or water, that sort of thing."
"There were no particular requests. Thanks to Senior Secretary Aman's thorough attention, they say they lack nothing."
"That's a relief."
I nodded, then added one more instruction.
"Still, tell them to check in often, just in case. If they need anything, take care of it right away."
"I shall instruct them to give it special attention."
It might have looked like overdoing it. It wasn't.
Whether the rest of Korea's textile industry follows them here depends entirely on how well Taeyang Apparel performs.
If they went down in flames? Nobody would come. That much was obvious. If a name as established as Taeyang Apparel failed, no company would risk the investment.
But if they succeeded? Everyone would be scrambling to get in. And at that point, we wouldn't need to roll out the special treatment we'd given Taeyang Apparel.
For a country like San Marcos, where unemployment was extreme, the situation was as desperate as it got.
"Please tell Secretary Aman to form a task force and support them aggressively. Along with the message that failure is not an option."
"Yes, understood."
"Ah, and about my personal funds I handed over last time."
"The one million dollars you donated to the education fund, Your Excellency?"
"No, I specifically said I was lending it, not donating... anyway, I was wondering if I could get that money back..."
"Your Excellency, I believe you need to study the art of joking a little more. Your Excellency is San Marcos, and San Marcos is Your Excellency — who would be taken in by that? You have merely moved money from the left pocket to the right. Heh heh heh."
"N-no, that's sophistry—"
I had no idea, at the time.
I had no idea that trouble was about to blow up from a direction I had never even considered.
Two weeks later.
I was on my way back from inspecting the operating status of the additional cranes installed at the Port of Libertad.
"The unloading speed has definitely improved. A volume that used to take all day is getting cleared before noon."
"It's thanks to the latest-model cranes. The dockworkers struggled with them at first, but they adapted quickly, and efficiency is climbing."
I was nodding along, pleased, to Isabella's report from behind the wheel when a familiar place and a familiar sign came into view.
"That must be the Taeyang Apparel factory."
I had only heard about it. This would be the first time I actually saw it.
I had been busy working through the backlog of issues piled up by the Arduous March, and I had also avoided visiting for fear of being a nuisance.
"Would you like to stop by?"
"Hmm... let's not go in. We'll just look from a distance. From the car."
"Yes, of course."
We were heading toward Taeyang Apparel when I saw it.
"...Huh? What's that?"
Outside the window was a scene I had not expected in the slightest.
Dozens of people had crowded in front of the factory's main gate, raising their voices in a distinctly ugly mood.
"I'll go take a look."
"It could be dangerous. If we send the security team first—"
"They're civilians. What's dangerous about that? Let's at least find out what's going on."
I got out of the car and walked toward the factory.
"You bastards! You want us all dead?!"
"The stench is unbearable! Shut this factory down right now!"
"Your factory killed all the corn in our fields! What are you going to do about it?! Well?!"
Up close, the situation was worse than I had thought.
The citizens were hurling rough protests at staff who appeared to be factory personnel, and the employees were sweating, completely at a loss.
"What's going on here?"
I waved the bodyguards back and approached quietly. An agitated old man jabbed a finger at me and shouted.
"And who the hell are you— huk!"
The old man confirmed my face and his eyes flew wide, as if he had seen a ghost.
"Y-Y-Your Excellency?!"
In an instant, the whole gathering went silent.
"W-who? His Excellency?"
"Good heavens! It really is His Excellency!"
The color drained from their faces, and the farm tools in their hands clattered to the ground.
Clang. Thud.
The furious crowd that had been screaming for blood only a moment before fell silent as one, as if they had rehearsed it, and parted to open a path.
"Your Excellency, what brings you here..."
"I was passing by and it seemed noisy, so I came over. What's all this about?"
At my question, the old man who had been protesting that his corn was dead pleaded, his voice breaking.
"Your Excellency! Please, save us! The factory people... they dumped poison in the stream!"
"Poison?"
"Yes! A few days ago the creek water turned pitch-black, and the stench of rot was overwhelming! That water killed every crop we poured our hearts into raising!"
"Do you have evidence?"
"I-I scooped up some of the water flowing in the creek."
The water in the container was a murky, dirty black — unmistakably wastewater from the dyeing process.
The kind of thing that happens now and then in industrial zones. But this was serious. One look was enough to tell they had dumped it outright.
"Understood. I'll look into it myself and take action. So for now, please return to your homes. If there's a problem, I will resolve it."
"Your Excellency yourself?"
"You are citizens of San Marcos. And I occupy a position that requires me to look after my people. I will resolve this without fail, so don't worry, and go on home."
"Y-Your Excellency! For lowly people like us. Khuh-huk..."
I looked at Isabella with a hard expression, and she deployed the bodyguards inside and outside the factory.
"You may enter."
Word of my arrival must have already reached them. When I went inside, President Choi Il-ju was waiting, pale as a ghost.
"Y-Your Excellency! You've arrived!"
"Mr. Choi. What is the meaning of this? Unauthorized discharge of wastewater?"
Choi waved his hands as if the accusation were an injustice.
"This is a misunderstanding! It was absolutely not intentional!"
"If it wasn't intentional, then what was it?"
"W-well..."
Choi's explanation was this.
Originally, considering the skill level of the local workers, Taeyang Apparel had planned to keep the Korean factory as the main operation and run the San Marcos plant as a secondary, transferring the production lines gradually. San Marcos's labor costs were so absurdly cheap that it would have been profitable either way.
Then a variable appeared.
"Your own brand took off?"
"Yes. The fashion brand we launched this time caught on through word of mouth on social media, and orders exploded, so we had to convert the entire Korean factory line to that."
"And so?"
"The Korean factory went all-in on our own brand, and we shifted the entire existing Likey supply volume here. Including the dyeing process."
"Ah..."
"But an unexpected problem arose. With production volume increasing fourfold... the capacity of the on-site wastewater treatment facility became hopelessly inadequate."
The dyeing process used an enormous amount of water. And with all manner of chemicals involved, a purification facility was essential.
The problem, according to him, was that the San Marcos factory's treatment tank had been designed for small-scale production.
"We were going to seal it in the tanks and process it little by little when we could... but we missed the timing on closing the valve, and the wastewater flowed into the ground for about three hours."
Choi offered his excuses, but whether it was a mistake or intentional, the fact remained that they had caused environmental contamination. And that was a criminal offense.
The problem was—
I can't exactly have him dragged off.
Taeyang Apparel was the first company to establish a factory in San Marcos. Throw that company's president in a holding cell, and the effect on future investment would be obvious.
I let out a breath and spoke.
"Mr. Choi, do you intend to compensate the people who suffered damages?"
"Of course."
"Then please compensate them at an appropriate amount... actually, a little more than that. I'll speak to Secretary Aman, so you can get his help."
"Thank you."
"And one more thing I want to ask."
"Yes."
"Does this kind of thing happen in Korea too?"
"In Korea?"
"Cases like now, where the wastewater tank fills up and you have to stop the factory."
"Ah..."
Choi thought it over carefully, then answered.
"In Korea's case, large-scale common wastewater treatment plants are generally installed. Wastewater from each factory is collected through pipelines to a single location, purified, and then discharged. Individual factories don't need their own treatment facilities, and there's no worry about capacity. You simply pay the treatment fee according to what the meter reads."
"Ah..."
Right. That was what an industrial complex was supposed to be.
I really had been in San Marcos too long. My standards had recalibrated to this country, so when I pictured an industrial complex, what came to mind was the kind of thing you'd see in 1980s Korea. And I had gone around beating the drum for corporate investment like that...
This is on us.
What made my skin crawl even more was this: astonishingly, not a single one of the secretaries had pointed it out.
"Of course, I don't mean that San Marcos's conditions are poor. It was a choice we made with full knowledge, and more than anything, the difference in land prices is enormous."
"And the factory? Is it running right now?"
"We thought we should finish purifying the wastewater first before running it, so we've stopped for the moment."
"There'll be a delivery deadline. That's a serious problem."
"I brought this all on myself, so it's fine."
"It's not fine. This is the first production run out of San Marcos. Missing the deadline is not an option."
I turned to Isabella.
"The military has spare wastewater tanks, right? Let's lend them those for now."
"I shall tell Marshal Pedro to bring every spare unit he has."
"Use these for the time being to get through the emergency. As for a common wastewater treatment facility, we'll discuss installing one."
"Thank you... truly!"
Watching Choi bow his head, I thought:
Looks like I need to round up the secretaries and give them a proper dressing-down.
Getting this sloppy on me.