The Path to Entrepreneurship (3)
Kim Chirok figured he'd better keep his expression in check. Anyone at manager level or above hadn't been paid. So he put on a suitably grave face of his own and headed up to the second-floor office.
He sat down at his desk and tried to get to work, but the Japanese woman's words kept circling back to him. She'd mentioned that a friend of hers who lived in Kyoto was planning a trip to Korea.
What if she really did come with Hirosue Yoshiko?
Even if Hirosue Yoshiko did come, though, she wouldn't make it all the way out to Hyangnam-eup. She'd probably stay a night or two at a five-star hotel in Seoul and be on her way. She was a Kyoto City tourism ambassador, after all — a top-earning, celebrated geisha.
And it wasn't as if Chirok could just drop everything and bolt to Seoul because he wanted to see her. He had no pretext. He'd offered to help carry her bags, sure, but she was bound to take that as a joke.
If he showed up in Seoul with no reason, uninvited, just to catch a glimpse of Yoshiko's face? She'd think he was a weirdo. A lunatic, even — or some woman-crazed creep who'd completely lost his mind.
Chirok pulled up Hirosue Yoshiko's photo on his smartphone. That wide, radiant smile of hers looked for all the world like a goddess descended from the heavens.
His phone rang. It was Deputy Song from H Group's Strategic Planning Office.
Deputy Song: "Chirok? It's me. Deputy Song."
Kim Chirok: "How have you been?"
Deputy Song: "So I didn't see your face at Jeong Chan-young's wedding on Saturday."
Kim Chirok: "Ah, I was there. I paid the congratulatory money and signed the guest book. But I wasn't exactly eager to run into the office head or the team leader, so… I left early."
Deputy Song: "I get how you felt. Still, I was hoping to see your face at least once. Kind of hurt that you just took off."
Kim Chirok: "Is everyone there doing well?"
Deputy Song: "Yeah, they're fine. Jang Jegal is still researching new ways to knife people in the back, and Jeong Chan-young is still strutting around like he owns the place. The bastard's on his honeymoon, though, so we won't have to look at him for a few days."
Kim Chirok: "Is he really carrying on that much?"
Deputy Song: "He married the gorgeous secretary every guy in the group companies used to drool over, so he's puffing his chest out like you wouldn't believe. And he puffs it out even more because he commutes from Banpo. The kind of guy who drives a foreign car all the way to the office."
Kim Chirok: "Doesn't the company parking lot only allow managers and above?"
Deputy Song: "This bastard uses a paid lot nearby. He's got money, so I guess he can. And the way he brags about his golf — I could throw up just looking at him."
Kim Chirok: "Haha. He does seem to be a decent golfer."
Deputy Song: "Bang Mihee quit the company."
Kim Chirok: "She left when she got married, then."
Deputy Song: "Apparently she started a company near Nonhyeon Station. A place called Bang Apparel. Word is our group's uniforms will now be supplied by Bang Apparel."
Kim Chirok: "Oh, is that so?"
Deputy Song: "Honestly, all she ever did was fetch the chairman's coffee. What does she know about design? Still, even if all she does is supply the company uniforms, she'll make money. Anyway, that bastard Jeong Chan-young hit the jackpot. Landed himself a wife who rakes it in."
Kim Chirok: "Haha. Yeah, I suppose so."
Deputy Song: "So what have you been up to these days, Chirok?"
Kim Chirok: "I'll tell you later. I've been thinking a lot about starting my own business lately."
Deputy Song: "Starting a business? Don't. Do that without capital and you're diving headfirst into concrete. You've got the skills — you should try getting into a global investment finance firm."
Kim Chirok: "Haha. I'll think about it. Anyway, take care."
With that, Chirok hung up quickly.
Ugh. He'd be in for a shock if he found out I'd become a 2.5-million-won SME employee.
A few days passed.
Chirok was still working hard at the small company. These days, people weren't just saying he did good work — they were saying he had real ability. That was because the Japanese woman had been singing his praises all over the place.
"Chirok is excellent with the general affairs work, and his classical Chinese is wonderful too. He even speaks Japanese."
The production-line women would chime right in.
"Chirok's good-looking, and he always greets people properly. He doesn't put on airs just because he's office staff."
"He's the same age as Assistant Manager Choi from Quality, right? When Choi comes out to the floor, he acts like he owns the place. And the way he swaggers around just because he went to a polytechnic — and he's young, too!"
The production workers were rough around the edges, but they were simple people. Show them a little kindness, and this was exactly how they responded.
That afternoon, the Accounting Manager looked over at Chirok's face and said,
"Having you here has made my life a lot easier. I just wish the company's finances would improve so the president would stop screaming."
"We're not getting another round of supplier presidents coming in today because we haven't paid for raw materials, are we?"
"I've plugged all the urgent holes. And once the money comes in from Mitsutek the day after tomorrow, things should ease up a lot."
"That's a relief."
"I'm going to duck out to the dentist for a bit. If the president asks for me, just cover."
"Understood. Go ahead."
Thirty minutes after the Accounting Manager left for the dental clinic, the president came looking for her. Chirok covered.
"The Accounting Manager has gone to the tax office."
"What? What's she doing at the tax office? Tell her to get back here now!"
The president barked it at the top of his lungs. These days he flew into a rage at the slightest thing. With the company in crisis, his temper had gone that way all on its own.
Chirok quickly sent the Accounting Manager a text.
Then a shouting voice erupted from the president's office. He seemed to be on the phone with the Accounting Manager.
"What's she doing at the tax office? Why are those bastards always summoning people at the drop of a hat?"
The Accounting Manager seemed to be making some kind of excuse.
"Get back here! What? You can't come right now? Who's the tax officer holding you there? Put them on the phone this instant!"
He was so furious he'd dropped all courtesy, barking at her with a raw, familiar "you."
A moment later, Chirok's phone rang. It was the Accounting Manager.
"I can't come back right this second, so print out the accounts payable statement and give it to the president. The advance withdrawals statement too."
"From the accounting software?"
"I'll give you the accounting program ID and password. Write them down."
Chirok turned on the computer at the Accounting Manager's desk, entered the ID and password, and printed out the accounts payable statement and the advance withdrawals statement. True to his business-school training, he pulled them up without a hitch.
The advance withdrawals appeared to be mostly a record of cash the president had taken out of the company. And he'd taken a lot.
Chirok carried the printouts into the president's office.
"On the manager's instructions, I've brought the accounts payable statement and the advance withdrawals statement."
"Have you? Give them here."
The president looked over the two statements and let out a sigh first thing. Then, noticing Chirok still standing there, he waved a hand.
"You can go. Good work."
Chirok bowed at the waist and left the president's office.
An hour later, the Accounting Manager arrived. The president was nowhere to be found — his office looked empty.
"Chirok, what did the president say when you gave him the documents?"
"He let out a sigh, first thing."
"That sounds about right. The president has taken a lot of money out for personal use over time, and there are plenty of suppliers we still haven't paid."
"That's why he sighed like that, then."
"A few of those unpaid accounts really need to be settled. Especially the electricity bill — if we don't pay it this month, they might cut the power."
"Cut the power? That would bring the whole factory to a dead stop, wouldn't it?"
"That's why the president may have gone to see a loan shark, for all I know."
"Is that so?"
"The electricity bill is a problem, but so is the unpaid raw-materials bill from a company called Yuna Chemical. The man who came in last time and fought with the president is Yuna Chemical's president."
"Yuna Chemical supplies the raw rubber, right?"
"That's right. They said if we don't pay this month either, they'll put the factory up for auction."
"They did?"
"Even if he does put it up for auction, though, the Yuna Chemical president won't recover much. The first-priority mortgage holder on this factory is Capital Bank."
"The president must be really worried."
"His nerves are stretched to the breaking point right now. Best not to talk back if you can help it. Last time the Plant Manager talked back, he threw a cup at him."
"Aigoo. The atmosphere around here is downright savage."
From that day on, Chirok stayed behind in the office after hours and went into the accounting program. He'd written down the ID and password the Accounting Manager had given him, so he could go in freely.
He printed out the accounts receivable statement. He pulled the sales figures against the raw-material costs. He printed the income statement. He even went through the asset register and the equipment list.
The company was in real danger — that much was clear. Operating profit came out slightly in the black, but once the financial costs were paid, it was always in the red. He turned over possible ways out. The only real solution was for the president to bring in a large sum from somewhere and pay down the debt. If he at least returned the money he'd taken as advance withdrawals, they could cover the urgent bills.
Another week went by.
Their main client, Mitsutek, made an advance payment on the delivery invoice. Only then were the salaries of managers and above finally paid.
The company was struggling, but come the weekend Chirok still went out to the nearby recreation areas. He had a car, after all. Having one really did make life richer — that much was true. He found himself thinking that as long as you had money, the provinces were a perfectly fine place to live.
Cosmos flowers were blooming thick along the roadsides now. Autumn was drawing near. Out in the paddies, the rice heads were turning a deep gold, and it was a beautiful thing to see. You couldn't have asked for a more perfect sea of gold.
Hyangnam Tech, however, had not improved. It had gotten worse. The factory had been put up for auction.
The party that filed for auction wasn't Yuna Chemical, the raw-materials supplier. It was Capital Bank, which had put the factory on the block for failure to repay principal and interest on time.
The people who worried about the company were the executives, not the production workers. If the company folded, the floor workers could just go somewhere else — they'd earn minimum wage wherever they went. The executives were a different story. There was no guarantee that a department head here would be treated as a department head anywhere else. That was why the managers had so much more to lose.
Another week passed. First thing in the morning, the Managing Director came looking for Chirok.
"Chirok! Send Mitsutek another advance-payment request letter this month."
Chirok drafted the letter at once. The Managing Director stamped it with the company seal and said,
"I want you to deliver this to Mitsutek yourself."
"Me, sir?"
"You know where Mitsutek is, right? Poseung Industrial Complex in Pyeongtaek. Just meet the Accounting Department Head and hand it over. I've already called ahead."
"Understood."
Chirok drove his own car to the Pyeongtaek National Industrial Complex.
Mitsutek Co., Ltd. was spotless. The building was new, too. The employees wore crisp uniforms, and the whole environment actually seemed better than H Heavy Industries — a major conglomerate.
A listed company really is a different animal.
Chirok met the Accounting Department Head, a man of about fifty in gold-rimmed glasses.
"The Managing Director at Hyangnam Tech sent me. I've brought an official letter."
The Accounting Department Head looked over the letter, then said bluntly,
"Hyangnam Tech can't keep doing this."
"I'm sorry."
Switching vendors would be a death sentence for Hyangnam Tech. Chirok put on a smile.
"Ilryung Precision's ring manufacturing costs have been running high, so the cost pressure is significant."
"Don't tell me that. Talk to the purchasing team. Have your president or Managing Director come and negotiate themselves."
The authority of a buyer over a supplier was something else.
Chirok returned to the company and reported to the Managing Director and the Accounting Manager that he'd delivered the letter. The Managing Director was pleased.
"But they said if we keep sending advance-payment request letters, they might switch vendors."
He watched the Managing Director's face harden at those words.
After lunch that day, Chirok headed out to the factory floor. He'd been hoping to find the Japanese woman and talk, but she wasn't at her usual spot. He went into the production building and found the housewife production workers gathered in a meeting. Ayako was sitting in.
Curious, Chirok sat down in the back and listened. It was a meeting about collecting last year's unpaid wages.
Even with him sitting right there, the women didn't treat him as someone to be wary of. Chirok wasn't an executive, after all.
The stout woman who served as cutting-room supervisor spoke up.
"We still haven't received last year's unpaid wages. Now that the factory's gone to auction, we need to put a lien on it too."
The older woman from the assembly room nodded.
"That's right. We have to. The banks and the raw-material suppliers have already filed attachments, but wage claims can take priority. I recovered unpaid wages at my last job by filing a lien just like this."
Then a Chinese worker spoke.
"Please let us file a lien too."