Crisis at the Small Company (2)

They were nearly finished with their jajangmyeon when one of the Bangladeshi workers — the curly-haired one — asked a question in clumsy Korean.

"Mr. Kim. What you think will happen to company?"

They called Kim Chirok "Mr. Kim." He worked in the office as administrative staff, and as far as they were concerned, that earned him a measure of respect.

"Well... I don't really know how things will turn out either."

"But Mr. Kim, you work in the office. So you know well, no?"

"I'm not anyone important. I honestly don't know."

"The ladies in the cutting room say the company will close soon."

"It's too early to say."

"If company close, the Production Manager and the Department Head say they start a new company. They say we should come too."

"Is that so?"

"Then they submit official foreign worker contract to the employment center, right?"

"I... I would imagine so."

"Hyangnam Tech never give us a work contract. So we just work without one."

"You two aren't undocumented, are you?"

"No, no. We have residence cards."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem. Your Korean is really quite good, though. How long have you been in Korea?"

"Me, seven years. Him, three years."

"Oh, is that right? You speak it very well. I bet you're good at the work, too."

"Mr. Kim, please have one more fried dumpling."

"No, no — I've had plenty."

With that, Kim Chirok pressed a ten-thousand-won bill into the curly-haired Bangladeshi man's hand.

"Put this toward the jajangmyeon."

"No, sir. We ordered, so we pay."

"That wouldn't be right. Just add it in."

Kim Chirok would have liked to cover the whole bill. But he was short on spending money himself these days, and so he stopped at the ten thousand won for his own share.

The curly-haired Bangladeshi man took the bill with delight. He broke into a wide grin, flashing a set of white teeth.

"Haha, thank you, Mr. Kim."

If we start a company of our own, we'll have to build an environment where the foreign workers can do their jobs with peace of mind.

If the Production Department Head really did go into business for himself, Kim Chirok figured they would need a clear grasp of what the foreign workers wanted. People produced better work when they felt secure enough to put their minds to it.

Monday arrived.

Kim Chirok went to the post office in Hyangnam-eup and sent the documents for the court by registered mail. Once they were off, a small, hopeful thought crossed his mind — maybe things would work out.

He parked the car and was walking into the factory yard when he ran into the Sales Director.

"Car running all right?"

"Yes, it's running fine."

"Don't go driving it any long distances if you can help it. That thing's falling apart."

"I only use it for commuting these days. By the way — in sales, do you mostly handle Mitsutech?"

"I don't do Mitsutech. The President or the Managing Director go in for that. Mitsutech won't even give the time of day to a Department Head from a subcontractor."

"Really? It's that bad?"

"Even if our President or Managing Director goes over there, they'll probably only get as far as the purchasing team leader. Meeting the actual executives is no easy thing."

"I see."

Kim Chirok went upstairs to the office.

The Sales Director came over to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Accounting Manager's desk, handed her a handful of toll receipts and a lunch receipt from a client visit, and said,

"I landed a gasket order from an appliance company. The volume's so small, though, I'm not sure it's even worth doing."

"Oh my, is that so?"

"I've got the drawings, at least, so I'll pass them along to the Plant Manager."

Kim Chirok, sitting beside them, spoke up.

"Are those the drawings for making the mold?"

"That's right. The quantity's small, but the drawings look a bit tricky. The mold has to be done right — if it isn't, all you'll get is defect after defect."

With that, the Sales Director headed off to find the Plant Manager.

Kim Chirok found himself wondering whether the Production Department Head and the Production Manager would even be able to read the drawings properly.

He glanced at the calendar.

September was already slipping away. He had a feeling that everything would be decided one way or another before December was out.

First, Hyangnam Tech's fate — whether the company would close — would be settled. Second, the sexual harassment trial would reach some kind of end, whether that meant a finding of no suspicion or something else.

And Hirosue Yoshiko, he guessed, would arrive in Korea before December as well. She had said she would come before the year-end joint performance — the kaomise, or whatever it was called — at the end of December.

Watching how much geisha performed these days, unlike in the old times, he couldn't help thinking they really were more like entertainers who danced on a stage.

Then again, Yoshiko liked Korean dramas and K-pop. He wondered if she might speak a little Korean.

He had studied Japanese, but he regretted how much he had let the practice slide lately. Whether he ended up meeting Yoshiko or not, he decided he ought to keep at the language.

Part of him even wanted to try conversing in Japanese with Ayaka, the Japanese woman at the factory. But that would be difficult to do at work. Too many people watching.

Time slipped by, and Chuseok drew near.

The Managing Director called the Accounting Manager over. He had no office of his own — just a partition around his desk — so every word carried straight to Kim Chirok.

"The company's in a tight spot, but we can't just let Chuseok go by like it's nothing. I told the President we ought to give the employees some kind of small gift, at least."

"Thank you, sir."

"Order seventy of those fifty-thousand-won canned tuna sets. The corporate card will cover it, won't it?"

"The Hana Bank one will. The Kookmin Bank card is over the limit — we used it for raw materials."

"Then put it on the Hana Bank card."

"Should we have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them delivered from the store to people's homes?"

"Some of the foreign workers don't have a fixed address, do they? And a gift's no fun if you don't get to carry it home yourself. Have all seventy brought here to the company. And tuck in a little note under the President's name — something like 'Thank you for your hard work.'"

"Understood."

Kim Chirok let out a quiet snort at the news that they would be handing out fifty-thousand-won canned goods for Chuseok. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Back when he was at H Group, he had received eight hundred thousand won in cash as a hometown-visit allowance, plus three hundred thousand won in gift certificates.

The gap in how conglomerates and small companies treated their people really was like heaven and earth. No wonder young people steered clear of SMEs.

It wasn't that the small companies withheld the money on purpose. They would have given more if they could. They simply didn't have it in them.

The Managing Director called Kim Chirok over.

"Kim! When those Chuseok gift sets get delivered, you write up the President's greeting and stick it on."

"What should I write, sir?"

"Big letters. 'Thank you for your hard work. Wishing you a bountiful Chuseok.' And underneath that, 'Representative Director, Hyangnam Tech Co., Ltd.' That way they'll know it's from the President."

"Understood. I'll write it that way."

"Half a sheet of A4 ought to do for the greeting you stick on top."

"Yes, Managing Director."

Two days later, a delivery truck rolled in loaded with the gifts.

Kim Chirok took the white papers with the President's greeting and stuck one on top of each set, working his way through all seventy with a tube of extra-strength glue stick.

Damn it. I graduated from Seoul National University, and here I am sitting around gluing pieces of paper onto gift boxes...

He couldn't help but laugh. Even so, he kept at it in good spirits, thinking of the housewives on the payroll and the foreign workers who would be glad to receive even a small gift like this.

Chuseok arrived.

Kim Chirok considered going up to see his father in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province. But it was too far, and he had a feeling the car would give out somewhere along the way if he tried to take it. He called instead.

His father picked up.

"Father? I still haven't made anything of myself, so I can't come bring you down."

His father truly seemed to have reached a kind of enlightenment. If the man said he was content, there was no great cause for worry.

The day before Chuseok, Kim Chirok went to see his mother. He brought the canned-goods gift set from the company, and she was delighted to receive it.

He spent only the morning of Chuseok at the house in Bongcheon-dong, then headed straight back down to Hyangnam-eup. For the rest of the holiday he sat with books he had borrowed from the Hwaseong Library there.

The result of the second auction on the Hyangnam Tech factory came in.

It was a failed bid, just as expected. A factory appraised at 4.8 billion won had been relisted at 3.36 billion, and even that had gone unsold.

In the provinces, the starting price dropped thirty percent with every failed auction. That meant the third round would open at 2.352 billion won.

There was no hope left now. The next round was likely to find a buyer, probably somewhere around 2.5 billion. If it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did, the finance company holding the first-priority mortgage would take the entire proceeds, and the raw-material suppliers would get nothing. They would be left holding the bag.

The one exception was a month of unpaid wages for the employees. Wage claims took priority over other debts, so that much, at least, could be recovered. Even so, collecting their money that way was bound to leave a sour taste.

The President now instructed the Sales Director to stop pushing for new business. They would produce only the orders already on the books and cease expanding to new clients. It was as good as a decision to wind the company down. Existing customers, however, would continue to receive their shipments.

Word came that a Manager and a Department Head from Mitsutech would be visiting.

To Hyangnam Tech, a Manager and a Department Head from their primary client might as well have been royalty. The factory was thrown into a frenzy of cleaning. Product was still going out, after all. And even if they were shutting the company down, the inventory still had to be cleared — which meant they still had to treat the visitors with the utmost courtesy.

The Managing Director fawned over the Mitsutech Department Head. Even the President himself received the Department Head and the Manager with elaborate deference. The President of Hyangnam Tech was an old man, yet he bowed his head and waited on Mitsutech people young enough to be his sons.

The visitors from Mitsutech made a circuit of the production floor, then came up to the second-floor office and sat in the President's room drinking coffee. Looking at them, Kim Chirok thought they really did look clean-cut. They had come wearing ties under their work uniforms.

The President called the Accounting Manager in and told her to pull the bookkeeping files. The Mitsutech people had likely heard the rumors about the company, and wanted the numbers so they could check the financials for themselves.

Kim Chirok found himself thinking he should have just stayed at H Heavy Industries.

H Heavy Industries is a far bigger company than Mitsutech. Should I have just stayed put? If I'd made Manager there, I could have gone out to a subcontractor and gotten treated like that myself.

After a while the Mitsutech people said they were leaving. The President saw them off at the door; the Managing Director walked them all the way to their car. And it wasn't only the Managing Director. The Plant Manager came out as well, along with the Production Department Head and the Sales Director, all of them bowing at the waist.

Kim Chirok turned to the Accounting Manager.

"This place falls all over itself just because a Mitsutech Department Head and a Manager showed up."

"If it were a Mitsutech Director, even our President would have a hard time getting a meeting."

"Is that right?"

"Originally, our President knew the Mitsutech Chairman well — that's how he got this business started, apparently."

"I see."

"But now the son is President over there, and the son holds the real power. That's why our President has had such a hard time of it."

"I suppose their Department Heads and Managers found it awkward dealing with our President, given his age."

"Exactly. It's hard to chew someone out over defective parts when the man is old enough to be your father. So they deal with the Managing Director instead — but he's getting on in years too."

"There's a season for everything in business, I suppose."

"The truth is, our President should have stepped back from the front lines by now... No. Let's get back to work. That kind of talk can wait."

"Understood."

Kim Chirok turned over what the Accounting Manager had started to say and then swallowed. She had probably wanted to add that the President ought to have retired to the chairman's seat and brought in his son — or some younger executive — and that it hadn't happened that way.

Two days after the second factory auction came through, Kim Chirok had a court date. It was the second hearing in Oh Ha-young's sexual harassment case.

He filled out an early-leave form and submitted it to the Accounting Manager in advance.