Chapter 85: Visiting the Film Set
Chapter 85: Visiting the Film Set
It might sound like a privileged complaint, but there were times when success felt like a burden.
When I first secured an apartment in Gangnam with a view of the Han River, my thoughts were simple.
‘This is so, so good. This is what happiness feels like.’
My body, accustomed to a semi-basement, was enjoying an incredible luxury.
Excellent insulation and heating, so much so that I never felt the cold at home.
A pleasant environment, free from dampness and humidity.
It was easy to order food for delivery, and I couldn't help but marvel whenever I used the bathroom.
‘The hot water works so well. And it's clean water, too.’
Wasn't it normal for rusty red water to run for about thirty seconds when you first turned on the tap?
Showering and bathing in water so clean you could drink it.
‘This is what a successful life is.’
The clothes I wore changed, and the food I ate changed too.
For a palate accustomed to convenience store lunch boxes, eating a meal that cost over 50,000 won per person felt like the height of luxury.
It wasn't about quantity over quality anymore; I was eating delicious food prepared with care by a chef.
I felt it myself, but even in the eyes of others, it was no small success.
The result of one major success after another was my present situation.
I had founded Earth Resource and was leading the business well, and I had made a fortune on the New York Stock Exchange.
I invested 200 million dollars in put options and multiplied it 52 times.
The 12 billion dollars I invested in the stock market in March was now worth well over 26 billion dollars.
They say money makes money, but could wealth really grow this much?
Just like when I was earning with crypto, my fortune had increased tenfold in just about seven months.
Most of this journey was shown to the public through YouTube.
- The Westward Ants, follow the Captain!
- We pledge our loyalty to the Master!
- All troops, charge into Teslaaaaa!
Looking at the online communities, I could see that a massive army of retail investors was watching me.
The media estimated that hundreds of thousands of people were investing alongside me.
Success every single time.
Having not failed even once yet, it was impossible not to feel the pressure, but...
‘If you fear failure, you become passive. You have to take the plunge to either succeed or fail, right?’
This wasn't the same me from my Arcor days, who would cautiously test every step.
Gaining experience through failure should be considered a success in itself.
It was thanks to having enough leeway to accept failure.
“The film set is interesting.”
“Yes. Haha. It's fun to watch the actors' performances up close, and it's even more interesting later when the work is finished because you know the behind-the-scenes stories.”
The set of Dream Art Rainbow.
The staff bustled about, preparing for the shoot, and as soon as the director gave the ready signal, all attention focused on the actors.
Of course, I couldn't help but feel them glancing at me from time to time.
Not only was I the nominal CEO of the company, but I was also the richest man in South Korea.
I wondered if this was what it felt like back at Arcor when the chairman from the German headquarters visited.
‘Hmm. It's probably even more intense than that. The headquarters' chairman was just a salaried employee, after all.’
Coming back to Korea after a while, I noticed people's gazes had changed completely.
In the past, I just had a lot of money, but now, I had an astronomical amount.
Besides, running a company meant I could lead that many people.
Just as the saying goes that the position makes the man, I too was growing little by little.
“Alright, rolling.”
The cameras followed the actors' movements precisely.
On the drama set, most people were in their mid-thirties or older, with forties being common, so they were older than me.
I watched the scene for a while, nodding to myself.
[ Red light, green light! ]
At the sound coming from the speakers, over 400 people advanced across the field.
When I'd skimmed the script for today's shoot, I'd thought, 'What on earth is this?' In a word, I was skeptical.
‘Is this really a Korean drama, with such a random plot?’
It seemed like they were filming some absurd mix of gambling and a survival game.
But seeing the set in person, even the actors participating as extras were dead serious.
Just from the few scenes I watched, I grew curious about what would happen next.
‘Life and death. There really is no theme more dramatic and immersive than this.’
After observing the shoot for two hours, I arranged for a hotel catering service to provide a meal for the actors and staff.
After all, the company's CEO couldn't just visit and leave empty-handed.
“Thank you, sir.”
“We'll enjoy the meal.”
There were many actors, ranging from the elderly to those who looked barely twenty.
Some of them were famous actors I had watched when I was young.
Even as they chatted and ate, I could feel a certain aura about them.
‘Living a life like that seems like it would be fun.’
It seemed that the older I got and the more experience I gained, the more I felt a sense of envy and longing for different kinds of lives.
Vice President Jeong Beom-tae and the director joined me for the meal.
“Are you having any difficulties with the shoot?”
“The production budget is generous, so I'm quite satisfied. We're enjoying the filming process.”
From the director's perspective, he probably had to be mindful of Vice President Jeong Beom-tae.
When the vice president stepped away, I asked again.
“If there's anything inconvenient, please tell me. We need to keep making improvements.”
“No, sir. Everything is really fine.”
“Are you sure there's nothing at all?”
Under my continued questioning, the director finally confessed one point of dissatisfaction.
“It would be nice if the art team had more support.”
“The art team?”
“They're the team that handles everything you see on screen, from decorating the sets to the minor props. Support for the art team is essential for high-quality visuals.”
It's because of the art team that we get magnificent scenes in movies and dramas. But hearing about what they did, it sounded like pure manual labor.
Moving, building, decorating.
An enormous amount of effort is required for beautiful visuals.
At the tables next to where the director and I were eating, the assistant director, other staff members, and the lighting and art teams were all listening intently.
“Of course, I know it's a difficult request. The investment in this drama is much larger than for other productions. That's why I'm also satisfied with the current filming environment.”
The director tried to subtly take back what he'd said.
Usually, telling the CEO something like this directly doesn't lead to any changes.
Things like, 'I'll look into it more,' 'I'll keep it in mind,' or 'I'll tell them to do a better job.'
Hearing such pleasantries would have been all they could expect.
“How much does the art team get paid?”
The director couldn't answer my question.
So I turned my gaze to the art team's leader.
“Could you tell me how much the staff members are paid?”
“Well... um.”
“You can speak freely.”
I wasn't naturally an intimidating person.
Just two and a half years ago, I was the kind of person who would force a laugh at doctors' unfunny jokes.
Nevertheless, people were at a loss and couldn't answer my question.
“I may be the president of Dream Art Rainbow in name only, but shouldn't I at least know the salaries of the staff on set?”
While everyone was just exchanging glances, a female assistant director wearing a baseball cap spoke up.
“Usually, the art team's salary varies by project. The team decides it internally. Roughly speaking, the youngest member gets around 2 to 3 million won.”
“Is that so?”
That was less than the salary at Arcor.
I used to make around 2 million won a month working hard at a convenience store and a PC bang.
With today's cost of living, that might be enough for a single person, but isn't it a bit difficult to support a family on that?
“Ah. That's the income per project, not a monthly salary.”
“How long does a project last?”
“A short one is four or five months. Usually, it's six months.”
“...”
Surviving on 2 or 3 million won for six months.
Hearing about the low pay in the film and drama industry firsthand, it was truly shocking.
“If that's the case for the youngest member of the art team, what about the other staff?”
“You get paid more as you move up to second and first. A first assistant gets about 1.2 million won.”
“Per month?”
“Yes.”
I was about to call them a bunch of thieves, but I stopped myself.
It seemed I was the leader of this band of thieves.
Paying someone less than 2 million won a month and working them day and night without holidays—what kind of way is that to treat people?
It might be common practice in the industry, but that didn't justify it.
“Vice President Jeong Beom-tae.”
“Yes. Sir!”
Jeong Beom-tae had returned to his seat, assessed the atmosphere, and was sitting quietly.
A silence spread out from where the director and I were, turning what should have been a comfortable meal tense.
Over a hundred actors and staff members were gathered at the nearby tables, but they were all quiet, their attention focused on us.
Jeong Beom-tae wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and spoke.
“I'm sorry, sir. I've created an uncomfortable situation. I'm sure the director didn't mean any harm by his words. I'll handle this smoothly.”
“How?”
“Well...”
Jeong Beom-tae thought for a moment before speaking.
“I'll listen to the director and the staff's opinions and try to resolve it by raising their salaries by 100,000 or 200,000 won.”
I could clearly see what Jeong Beom-tae was thinking.
As the vice president of Dream Art Rainbow, he couldn't spend too much money.
He was likely thinking about industry practices and how a small raise would make them grateful enough to smooth things over.
“Don't do that.”
“Yes, sir. I will not. This is not something our busy CEO should have to concern himself with.”
His strange tone made it seem like he thought I was trying to save even that 100,000 or 200,000 won.
I don't know much about the situation in the US, but I felt that skilled people in Korea were treated too poorly.
It's far too common for them to be overworked without fair compensation.
A salary that would have felt small even before I became incredibly wealthy.
Wouldn't the developers at Earth Resource in San Francisco be horrified if they heard about these wages?
I said to the director.
“I will readjust the salaries for all staff members. The minimum monthly salary will be set at 3 million won. We'll provide additional raises based on experience, and you haven't been getting overtime or holiday pay, have you? We'll provide all of that.”
“What?”
“Seeing how you all work, I feel this is what you deserve.”
“But, sir. If you do that, the drama's break-even point will become too high. We could operate at a loss.”
The director actually tried to stop me.
Reality is important; you can't just hand out money based on rosy fantasies.
The head of a film or drama production company would probably take the stance that low wages are unavoidable.
A quick calculation told me that if there were 100 staff members, it would mean an additional expenditure of about 400 million won per month.
For a movie, that's money you could only earn with another 100,000 ticket sales.
It might be manageable for one production, but having the break-even point increase by 100,000 viewers for every project is a burdensome number.
If you could save 300 or 400 million in production costs, there's a lot you could do with it, and investors would see a greater return.
But I'm not just in the content business.
To put it simply, the vaccine we were making was a batch of 430 million doses.
We were producing them for 3 dollars each, but the sales contracts were signed at an average of 25 dollars.
That's an income of 10.75 billion dollars.
Even after subtracting production costs, the net profit is well over 9 billion dollars.
It didn't feel right to skimp on staff salaries while making this much money.
Of course, there was no need to explain all of this.
“I know. But taking a loss is the entrepreneur's burden. It doesn't seem right for employees to work without proper pay.”
I donate to help needy strangers I've never even met; I certainly don't want to exploit my own employees with low wages.
‘A salary is more important than anything.’
Back when I had nothing.
I remembered that the satisfaction I got from a 50,000 won raise was far greater than what I felt earning 500 million dollars now.
“Thank you, sir.”
After deciding to completely overhaul the staff salaries, filming resumed.
Despite his busy schedule, the director was constantly writing and erasing things in his script.
I couldn't help but admire his passion for creating his own work.
‘The content industry is one where you have to pour in your passion without fear of failure.’
They are truly courageous challengers.
“Here... have this while you watch.”
The youngest member of the art team, a young man who said he'd just graduated from college, brought me a can of coffee.
It was the kind of canned coffee you buy in a bulk pack on sale at the supermarket.
“Thank you. I'll enjoy it.”
I smiled, opened the can, and took a drink.
It was just as sweet as I'd expected.
I was already looking forward to the end of the year, when Earth Channel would launch.