The Mold Seizure Plan (2)
The Production Manager kept talking. A round of drinks had loosened his tongue, just as expected.
"We're holding four of Mitsutech's molds. That means we'd need four injection molding machines."
"If the president shuts the company down, he'll sell the machines off."
"And we pick them up cheap."
"Hmm."
"Two of those injection machines are old enough that they're fully depreciated. The other two hydraulic ones have already been running for over five years."
"And you want us to take those?"
"That's right."
"The president would probably let them go cheap, seeing as it's his own people heading out to start a business."
"But we'd have to move those machines fast. Creditors could slap a seizure order on them any day."
The lamb skewers on the charcoal grill were starting to scorch. Kim Chirok transferred the ones that were already done onto the plate in front of the Production Manager.
"But if we don't return the molds to Mitsutech, won't there be a legal fight? That's basically theft, isn't it?"
"There's more than one kind of theft. We'll keep holding the molds and keep producing whatever parts they need. I don't think they'd go as far as filing charges."
"Well, if that's how it plays out, fine, but..."
"Besides, aren't the real thieves the ones sitting up top? Those damn assemblymen, the ministers, the agency heads — those are the actual crooks."
"Haha. Is that so?"
"And what about the unions at the big conglomerates? They demand a raise every single year, and that just means the big companies squeeze the unit prices of small suppliers like us even harder."
"They shouldn't be cutting the unit prices that aggressively. That's the real problem."
"This whole world's crawling with thieves. The ones who think they're educated are even worse about it. Holding onto those molds isn't greed — it's survival, pure and simple."
"But what if they demand the molds back? What then?"
"We looked into it. It could fall under embezzlement of property outside one's possession, or occupational embezzlement."
"So we could end up behind bars if it goes wrong."
"But sending a certified notice, filing a complaint — all of that takes time. And if our parts don't arrive on schedule, their assembly line stops too."
"Hmm. That's true enough."
"The real problem is Ilryung Precision — the ones who make the rings."
"What's the issue with Ilryung Precision?"
"Those guys said they'd start making the same rubber products we do someday. Hand them the molds and they'd just buy their own injection machines and start stamping them out themselves."
"They said that?"
"That's why the president, with the business struggling, quietly offered to sell Hyangnam Tech to Ilryung Precision."
"Is that so?"
"It fell through. They probably wanted to pick it up for nothing."
"I see."
"So that's why I'm saying you should join forces with us, Mr. Kim. Let's work together."
"Would the injection machines alone be enough? We'd need cutters, compressors, testing equipment..."
"We'll get those cheap from the president. We're still owed a month's back pay from last year, so he won't try to gouge us on the sale."
"And renting a factory — the deposit alone would be steep. Is that even feasible?"
"A small factory can go for a thirty-million-won deposit and three million a month. A slightly bigger one, fifty million deposit and five million a month. Of course, you'd have to check the electrical capacity."
"Plus we'd need tools, a delivery truck, and a decent amount of working capital just to bring in raw materials."
"I figure around two hundred million won should cover it. If seven of us chip in thirty million each, that should get us the starting capital."
"Does everyone actually have the cash?"
"Who knows. We'll have to talk it over. The foreign workers probably won't come in as investors, though — that's the part that worries me."
Kim Chirok figured that scraping together thirty million won wouldn't be easy for ordinary working people. Guys like his old classmates Lim Jae-geun or Jeong Chan-young could cough up that kind of money without breaking a sweat. But plenty of ordinary folks didn't even have a million won sitting in their bank accounts. Kim Chirok knew that well — he had lived that life himself.
He blinked, turning it over in his mind.
Should I throw in with them? Who knows when the Oh Ha-young situation will blow over. Maybe I should give it a shot.
He could always cash out his savings account. He had been putting away three million won a month for nearly two years — canceling it would net him around sixty million. Joining wouldn't be a financial stretch.
But if I join, I'd be the only one on the management side, wouldn't I? That means I'd be doing general affairs, accounting, sales, and running deliveries all by myself.
That would mean a crushing workload. On the other hand, it might be a chance to learn the business. You learned by throwing yourself into the work, didn't you?
Kim Chirok poured gaoliang liquor into the glass in front of the Production Manager.
"I'll think about it. But I don't have any money on hand."
"Try taking out an employed-worker loan. That's what we're looking into. The company's not shut down yet."
"I haven't been here long. I'm not sure I'd even qualify."
"If you've got a record of previous employment, they might be able to link it."
"The company's not closed yet. Let's wait and see a bit longer."
"The shutdown is a done deal. The auction's happening because of the debt — how are they going to stop that?"
"Stopping it would be hard, yeah."
"And the raw materials supplier said if we don't bring them money, they're cutting us off. That means a full stop."
"Yuna Chemical, the raw rubber supplier — they actually said that?"
"Their president has been fighting with ours over money every single day. They need to collect from us so they can import rubber from the producing countries."
"That makes sense."
"The auction date is next week. The Production Department Head said this round will probably fail to sell, and it'll most likely go through on the second auction."
"Understood. The lamb skewers are burning. Eat up."
The next day, he went to work.
The company was steeped in gloom. Even the housewife workers on the production floor had gone quiet. Nobody knew when the factory might shut down.
The housewife workers could always go through a labor agency and find work at another factory. They were paid minimum wage either way. But they were skilled at what they did here. Going somewhere else might mean starting over at a different job, and they wanted to stay somewhere familiar. The thought of being scattered from the coworkers they had grown close to seemed to weigh on them too.
The only cheerful person left was Ayaka, the Japanese lady. Nobody held it against her — that was just her nature.
Kim Chirok headed out to the bank on an errand for the Accounting Manager. Once again, it was to extend the repayment on a corporate purchase-fund loan that had come due.
The bank officer handling the account was a female teller. She looked him up and down.
"Did the Accounting Manager at Hyangnam Tech quit?"
"No, she's still there. She's busy, so I came in her place."
"The company's not shutting down, is it? I heard it went to auction."
"It's still alive, for now."
The teller smiled briefly at that. But he was just an employee of a troublesome little company, and she didn't give him a second glance afterward. She had probably decided he was a decent-looking young man who hadn't studied hard enough and had ended up at a tiny, struggling factory.
Kim Chirok returned from the bank. He parked the car and was heading toward the office building when Ayaka came scurrying over from the production floor.
"Mr. Kim, were you at the courthouse?"
"No, I just came from the bank."
"What do you think will happen to the company? The housewife workers on the floor are whispering every day that we're going to shut down."
"I don't know yet. We'll have to wait and see."
"A labor attorney stopped by the floor office earlier. He said we should file a provisional attachment on last year's unpaid wages. That's the only way to collect through the court."
"That's probably the way to go. If you file the attachment before the dividend deadline on the auctioned assets, there's a chance of collecting."
"Does that actually work?"
"Wage claims take priority over other creditors, so yes, it's possible."
"Should I do it too?"
"If you're owed money too, Ayaka, you should probably do the same."
"Oh my, I couldn't. I feel too sorry for the president. I just couldn't do that."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she said it. It was the first time Kim Chirok had seen this woman without a smile on her face. She really did have a simple, honest streak.
Another week passed.
The company remained hushed. Some of the blossoms along the roadside had begun to wither. In a corner of the factory grounds, leaves were falling whenever the wind picked up.
The factory didn't have a dedicated janitor, so Kim Chirok went out into the yard and swept up the leaves. They tumbled across the ground like the banknotes of Poland's government-in-exile, just as a poet had once written.
He was coming out after putting the broom back in the shed when he spotted Ayaka. She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
"You're the best, Mr. Kim."
"Why am I the best?"
"Nobody else takes the initiative to sweep up the fallen leaves. You're handsome, but your character is even better."
"Haha. Thank you."
"Oh, my friend in Kyoto sent me some photos. Ho-ho. Want to take a look?"
She showed him her friend's picture. The friend was just an ordinary middle-aged woman.
"Ho-ho. Scroll up. There's a photo of Hirosue Yoshiko in there too."
What? Hirosue Yoshiko? Then I have to see this.
Kim Chirok scrolled up. It was a photo of her holding a bouquet, apparently taken at her middle school graduation. She was a natural beauty, with dark eyebrows and clear, bright eyes — though she still had a childish air about her.
There was another photo of Yoshiko a bit older, taken with Ayaka's friend's family in a grassy field. Ayaka's friend was holding a little boy who looked about elementary-school age, and an adult Yoshiko stood in the frame with a middle-school girl. The picture was too small to get a clear look at Yoshiko's face.
Then Kim Chirok saw the next photo and froze. It was Yoshiko, bare-faced, wearing a yukata, performing a fan dance. Not on a stage — on tatami mats, during practice.
Whoa.
The sight of her nearly stopped his breath.
To think her bare face, without a trace of makeup, could be this beautiful.
Beside him, Ayaka laughed, ho-ho.
"Ho-ho. She's pretty, isn't she?"
"She's really beautiful."
"It was taken at the Miyagawacho dance rehearsal hall. That's from when she was learning to dance. Ho-ho."
She covered her mouth as she laughed. Kim Chirok had never seen a woman giggle while showing a stranger photos of her friend's niece.
He spoke, his voice slightly unsteady.
"You said you'd come to Korea before the end of the year, right? If Yoshiko comes along too, I'll carry all the bags. I mean it."
"Ho-ho-ho. I'll think about it. But if Yoshiko doesn't come and it's just my friend, you wouldn't carry the bags, would you?"
"I-I'd still carry them."
"Ho-ho-ho. I'm just kidding."
"Would this be your friend's first time in Korea?"
"No, she came once for my second child's first birthday, after I got married. But I was so frazzled back then we didn't even get to sightsee properly. Ho-ho-ho."
"When your friend comes this time, I suppose your husband will do the driving?"
"Ho-ho. That'd be nice, but my husband doesn't particularly like my friend."
"Why not? She's your friend."
"We believe in God, but she follows Nam-myoho-renge-kyo."
"Oh, is that so?"
"But religion is a personal choice. Ho-ho-ho."
"Do you happen to know what religion Hirosue Yoshiko follows?"
"Ho-ho. I don't know. If she ends up coming, I'll ask. But she probably doesn't have one."
"How would you know that?"
"Geisha are the ones who perform dedication dances at Shinto shrines. Ho-ho-ho."