The Mold Seizure Plan (1)
Kim Chirok spotted the Production Manager standing off in a corner with his arms crossed. He walked over, smiling.
"Everyone's raising a fuss over the unpaid wages, I see."
"Those bitches! Going on like that over one missed month. I'm a Manager, and I haven't even gotten this month's salary."
"It must be hard on you, Manager, with a family to support."
"I can hang on because my wife works at an electronics assembly plant. Without that, it'd be rough."
"I received my salary. I feel bad for the executives."
"Don't. The people at the top just couldn't play politics with Mitsutech."
"I still feel bad, though."
"If you feel that bad, buy me a round of soju tonight. I haven't had a drink in ages."
"You live in Haengjeong-ri in town too, Manager?"
"No, I live in the Jugong apartments in Balan-ri."
"Then how about we meet halfway between my studio and your place? Around Balan Intersection would be walking distance for both of us."
"Let's do that. Meet me at six tonight in front of the Muslim Mart at Balan Intersection."
"The Muslim Mart? Ah, understood."
So this area really did have a Muslim Mart, given how many foreign workers lived around here. Even with Korea's high unemployment, young people wouldn't come out to a place like this to work. Foreign laborers filled those gaps — or else it was older folks like the production-line aunties currently raising a ruckus.
Kim Chirok figured that on a salary of a little over two million won, getting married from here would be nearly impossible. Especially if the spouse was stuck at this kind of low wage — women wouldn't want to marry. Even if they did, having and raising a child would be a struggle. And people like this would never be able to send their kids to Daechi-dong in Seoul for expensive private tutoring. Academic credentials, and wealth itself, were bound to be inherited.
Kim Chirok went back up to the office and spoke to the Accounting Manager.
"The housewife workers are holding a meeting on the floor. They say if the factory goes to auction, they're going to file a provisional attachment for their unpaid wages too."
"I didn't get a month's pay last year either. Should I join them?"
Instead of answering, Kim Chirok just smiled. He had nothing to say himself.
A long meeting was underway in the President's office that day as well. The Managing Director, the Plant Manager, the Sales Director, and others had gone in. Midway through, the Managing Director called for Kim Chirok.
"Pull a certified copy of the factory's property register from the internet."
"Yes, sir."
Kim Chirok took the printout from the printer and brought it into the President's office, where the meeting was still in session. Every face in the room was set in stone. He could feel just how dire the company's situation had become.
There are plenty of good SMEs out there. Looks like I picked the wrong one. No — maybe joining a company this troubled is actually the best place for me to learn.
The Japanese lady came up to the second-floor office. She always laughed with that ho-ho-ho of hers, but today she wasn't laughing — probably because of the atmosphere in the company. Even so, she hadn't lost her smile.
Kim Chirok didn't say anything either. He just sent a smile her way.
Ayako, the Japanese lady, came over to him. She leaned in close to his ear and spoke quietly.
"My friend in Kyoto and Hirosue Yoshiko are coming to Korea."
"What? Really?"
"I just got a call. They said they'll come before the December Kaomise performance. Ho-ho-ho."
Then she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't let her laughter carry into the President's office.
Kim Chirok asked,
"What's a Kaomise performance?"
"It's a performance where geisha from all five of Kyoto's hanamachi districts take the stage. They call it Kaomise Soken — it's spectacular. People come from all over Japan to see it."
"I'd love to see it someday."
As they were talking, the Managing Director stepped out of the meeting in the President's office. He'd probably come out to take a phone call. Seeing him emerge, the Japanese lady quickly moved to another desk.
Hearing that Hirosue Yoshiko was coming, Kim Chirok felt his chest tighten for no good reason. He wanted to meet her — but he had no pretext for it.
I need to come up with some kind of excuse.
No idea came to him. There was still time, so he decided to work on the problem later.
Evening came. Kim Chirok changed into casual clothes at his studio and walked toward Balan Intersection. He had a dinner appointment with the Production Manager.
There really was a Muslim Mart near Balan Intersection. And further in was a restaurant alley packed with eateries. This area was thick with industrial parks, so most of the shops seemed geared toward factory workers and foreign laborers.
There were labor agencies and administrative consultant offices too. Some of the smaller signs had notices in Chinese and English, clearly catering to foreigners.
Kim Chirok looked at the signs and smiled.
I may not have landed a job at a global finance firm, but I made it to Global Street, at least.
A man was coming from further in, head bowed. It was Hyangnam Tech's Production Manager. He had his hands in his pockets, ambling along.
"Manager!"
"Oh, you're already here?"
"I almost didn't recognize you, walking with your head down like that."
"Walking with my head down and slouching like this — don't I look like a thug?"
"A thug? You're one of the industrial backbone of this country!"
"I may not be an industrial hero, but I did my part defending the country. I was a sergeant in the army."
"Oh, is that so? I was discharged as a staff sergeant."
"You like lamb?"
"Sorry? Lamb?"
"Lamb's pretty decent. There's a lamb skewer place over there — let's go. I had drinks there last month with the Chinese workers from our company."
So Kim Chirok went with the Production Manager to the lamb skewer restaurant. The Production Manager ordered lamb skewers and a bottle of Yantai gaoliang.
When Kim Chirok poured him a glass, the Production Manager looked delighted. The way he licked his lips, he really did seem like a man who loved his drink.
"It's only because it's you that I'm getting treated to drinks. That bastard Assistant Manager Choi from Quality — even when I offer to buy, he says he doesn't have time."
"Is that so?"
"That son of a bitch! So he went to college — big deal. Who does he think he is? Come on, let's have a drink, us high school grads."
With that, the Production Manager clinked his glass against Kim Chirok's. Kim Chirok gave a wry smile. Somewhere along the way, he'd become a high school graduate himself.
The sharp smell of strong gaoliang hit him. The lamb skewers, surprisingly, were pretty good. But the liquor was so potent that Kim Chirok couldn't drink much of it. The Production Manager, on the other hand, stuck out his lips and knocked it back with ease.
"You're a good drinker, Manager."
"Not me. The Production Director is the real drinker. That man drinks like a fish."
"Is the Production Director your army senior?"
"No. Hometown senior. He was friends with my older brother. Actually, I got into Hyangnam Tech through his introduction."
"You've been here a long time, haven't you, Manager?"
"I've been working in injection molding alone for ten years now."
"So you're a technical veteran, then."
"Veteran, my ass. All we do is hang the molds on the injection machines and stamp out parts."
"But you can still catch defects, or tell if the rubber compounding is off, right?"
"Well, that much, sure."
"By the way, it seemed like some pretty serious talk was going on in the President's office today."
"Yeah. It's a mess. If the factory goes to auction, I think the President is looking to shut the company down."
"What? Shut it down?"
"The President's getting on in years — looks like he wants to rest. And he's got nothing to worry about. He lives in Gwanggyo, Suwon now, and just the house is worth over 1.5 billion won."
"What good is a house? You still need living expenses, don't you?"
"People like that have money stashed away. According to the Director, the President's daughter married a doctor, and his son makes good money as a webtoon artist."
"Hmm. So the son doesn't have much interest in the rubber factory, then."
"If our factory made good money, the son would've been interested too."
"Haha. Is that how it is?"
"He probably said he wouldn't take over his father's factory because it doesn't make money. And if kids like that come in as President, the place goes under. Unless it's like Mitsutech, where the Chairman's son graduated from Seoul National University's Business School."
Those words left Kim Chirok with a peculiar feeling. He himself had graduated from Seoul National University's Business School.
"But if the factory really goes to auction and the President shuts it down, what happens then? You'll have to look for another job, Manager."
"I suppose so. Same goes for you."
"There's a labor agency here at Balan Intersection, isn't there? You could try there."
"The production-line housewives and the foreigners, sure. But the Production Director and I are different."
"Different how?"
"If we move companies, they might not give us the Department Head or Manager titles. The company we go to will already have Managers and Department Heads."
"Hmm. So you might not get the respect you deserve. Then the Plant Manager and the Sales Director would be in the same boat, wouldn't they?"
"The Plant Manager and Sales Director have long academic résumés, so they'll be fine. But the Production Director and I — our résumés are short...."
"What does a diploma matter in a technical job?"
"That's not how it works. Sometimes when you're supplying a well-known listed company, they look at how many high-level technical personnel you've got on staff."
"Saying you've got ten years of experience should be enough, right?"
"No. This damn society is all about academic credentials. Graduate of such-and-such engineering college, such-and-such professional engineer license — that's what gets you in the door."
"Is that so?"
"That's why when we submitted our technical personnel list to Mitsutech, only the Plant Manager and that guy from Quality — Assistant Manager Choi, or Assistant Manager Prick, whatever — made the cut. The Plant Manager is a four-year engineering college grad, and Assistant Manager Choi from Quality went to a polytechnic university."
"I don't really get it."
"Still, if you've got a long academic résumé and a professional engineer or technician license, the odds are better, yeah."
"I suppose so..... Anyway, if the President shuts down, it is worrying."
"That's why I talked with the Production Director yesterday, but.... actually, we're thinking of starting our own business."
"What? Starting a business? You're going to open a fried chicken shop or something?"
"Haha. Not that."
"Think it through carefully. They say running your own business is tough these days. If you've got a lot of capital maybe, but otherwise it's a grind."
"We're not talking about a chicken shop or a bar. We want to set up a rubber factory like Hyangnam Tech."
"What? A rubber factory?"
The Production Manager glanced around. There weren't even many customers in the lamb skewer place, but he looked anyway. Then he lowered his head and spoke in a low voice.
"Don't tell this to anyone."
"What is it that's got you like this?"
"What? The molds owned by our client, Mitsutech?"
"Of course, if the company shuts down, the Mitsutech purchasing guys will come running. And they'll demand we hand over their molds."
"Of course they will. They'll need to take those molds back and give them to another vendor to keep making the products."
"So we're going to refuse to hand over the molds, and tell them we'll stamp out the products and supply them ourselves."
"Will Mitsutech go along with that? If just a few people leave the company and try to operate, you won't even qualify as a partner vendor."
"Well, yeah. To become a partner vendor they'd look at technology, equipment, personnel, factory facilities, capital — all of it. But it's do-or-die, so we just hold onto the molds and refuse to budge."
"So you're basically going to hold the molds hostage."
"If we rent a small factory around here and put in a few injection machines, we can stamp out the products."
"Injection machines are expensive enough, but what about the roller machines in the mixing room that knead the raw rubber? That equipment isn't cheap."
"Ah, we'll skip that and just get the compounded rubber from a mixing contractor. We'll only do the injection molding."
"That's quite the ambition."
"But capital is the problem, as you'd expect. Renting a factory and buying injection machines takes serious money. So we're thinking of recruiting a few people from the production staff who'd want to join in."
"Would there be anyone like that?"
"How about you join in, Chirok? Even if we go out and start a company, we'll need someone on the admin side."
"What? Me?"