The Month-End Sales War

Assistant Manager Hwang of Marketing Team 2 shot a glance at Young-hoon and tossed out a veiled jab.

"Have fun playing hooky out there?"

Marketing Team 2 and Marketing Team 3 were separated by nothing more than a single partition, which meant each team could track the other's every move in intimate detail. And the man sitting directly across from Young-hoon was, of course, Assistant Manager Hwang himself.

"What are you even talking about? I've been out there busting my ass over sales. Don't go picking a fight with an innocent man."

"Oh, come off it, you punk. If you're going to lie, you should at least fool the heavens. Your face is just dripping with grease, and you two got back to the office practically at the same time—so yeah, playing hooky is pretty much confirmed. And you claim you were working hard? Wow, the number one sales team really is on another level. I'm so jealous I could die. Tsk."

"How many times do I have to say it? Go ask Park—he'll tell you exactly what I was doing out there."

"Pfft, like you two wouldn't have your stories straight before coming back. Don't worry about it, though. I get it. A guy needs a little something to keep him going through office life, right? Anyway, my team keeps getting compared to yours and it's killing me. You have no idea how much our team leader grinds us into the ground... Ugh, thank God at least Deputy General Manager Yoon doesn't ride us like that. If it weren't for the honorary retirement, Teams 1 and 2 would've been ground to dust by now."

"Spare me the sob story. It's quitting time—aren't you going home?"

"Quitting time? Please. I've got overtime again tonight. Must be nice being you. Skipping out to play hooky, then clocking out right on the dot when it suits you. Do the rest of us a favor, will you, buddy? Slip out quietly so the other teams don't notice."

"Got it, buddy. Good luck covering my share too."

Young-hoon spent a while glancing around at the other teams, and the moment the clock hit seven, he left the office and headed home. The tiny one-room apartment he lived in held a bed, a desk, and little more than a kitchen and a bathroom. He had cooked for himself at home perhaps a handful of times in his life—his skills in the kitchen were poor, and besides, cooking was a hassle, so he usually grabbed something to eat outside before coming in. Tonight was no different. After buying his dinner on the way back as always, Young-hoon checked the time on his phone. It was only nine. Too early to sleep, so he opened his laptop. He was picking up the drama script he'd been chipping away at for the past few days.

Since it was essentially a matter of transcribing the knowledge left behind in the mind of the Archmage Hains, it wasn't particularly difficult—but typing page after page left his shoulders quietly aching all the same. The scripts Hains had passed down to Young-hoon numbered roughly a hundred, spanning shorts, novellas, and full-length works. From among them, Young-hoon had selected one with suitable content and shaped it for a twenty-episode miniseries; by today he planned to have four episodes transcribed. It was a classic melodrama—the story of a man and woman who had grown up in the same hometown. The girl moved away to the city and they parted, only to reunite in their late twenties and fall in love again, then fight to protect that love against the objections of everyone around them. A textbook romance.

Even as he transcribed the Archmage Hains's knowledge, Young-hoon found himself wondering whether audiences would really go for such a clichéd love story. To his own eyes, it looked childish at best. But Hains's abilities had already been proven beyond doubt with the songs, so he decided to stop doubting. If he transcribed one episode a day, the whole thing would take about two weeks. There was no need to rush. After all, PD Lee Hyo-young and PD Shin Hye-yoon—the two who might actually read this script—weren't likely to have any free time until the drama currently in production wrapped up. So he'd take it slow.

Two hours flew by as he finished transcribing a single episode. He was about to go to bed when the thought of the Magic Additive crossed his mind. Someday soon, he really should try making it. The ingredients surfaced in his memory one by one, and there was nothing on the list that would be hard to obtain. In Hains's scripts, wine appeared with striking frequency. Young-hoon figured the Archmage must have mixed his Magic Additive into wine. And coffee, too—the man clearly drank a great deal of it, given how often coffee scenes cropped up. That one was easy to accept; any drama worth its salt showed characters lingering over coffee at a café. One thought led to another, and before Young-hoon knew it, midnight was nearly upon him. And so another day slipped away.

Thursday. Young-hoon was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠once again the first to arrive at the office. Today was the day they'd be recording After Farewell. All he had to do was show up around seven in the evening, so nothing stood in his way—unless something unexpected came up, he'd go.

As if on cue, the Hong kid strolled in late, and Deputy General Manager Cho wore a storm cloud on his face from the moment he arrived. Team 3's sales figures were overwhelmingly first place, so who knew what had gotten so deeply twisted up in the man's insides? But at ten o'clock, Cho took a phone call and abruptly brightened into high spirits. Watching a man flip expressions that many times in a single day—you really had to conclude he was a psycho.

Then Deputy General Manager Cho suddenly raised his voice so the whole office could hear.

"Anyone asks, tell them I was summoned by the Managing Director and went up to his office!"

Watching the man stroll out of the office humming a tune, it seemed some thorny problem had found its solution. Assistant Manager Hwang from Marketing Team 2 looked over as if to say what the hell is with that guy? and asked what was going on, but Young-hoon had no idea either, so he just answered with a shrug and a smile.

Even if Team 3 had exceeded its sales target, it would all amount to nothing if the factory shipments didn't go through. Sales only counted once product left the factory and was delivered to a dealership's warehouse or whatever location the dealer specified. Until then, everything was just an "order." And starting today, the war with the factory over shipments had begun. Every month-end turned into a daily brawl with the factory over deliveries. This month, the phones had become a problem too. A product that couldn't even hold a candle to rival Samjeong Electronics' offerings had suddenly seen orders come flooding in—thanks to Hong losing ground to the competition. Normally the factory was the one begging for someone to sell more phones, but whether Hong knew any of this or cared, he was lounging around without a care in the world.

The man currently locked in a verbal battle over the phone with the factory shipping team was Manager Kim.

"Manager, why are the shipments delayed?"

"There's a defect in the product. They're asking us to hold off for two days. The real problem is that nobody orders this thing normally, so they never stockpiled enough components. Now they're scrambling to secure parts as we speak."

"But the shipment's scheduled in two days—that's Saturday. Will the factory even ship on a Saturday?"

"They're calling in freight trucks specially to get it out, so it should be fine."

"Wait—that order, isn't that the Kyungin Distribution inventory? Hong's dealership? Why are you the one handling it?"

"You're telling me. The old saying really is true—one man makes the mess, another man cleans it up. Hong's swamped, so the team leader told me to take care of it. When the team leader says jump, what can I do? If they say push, I push."

"And Hong's just off goofing around?"

"Tell me about it. Cleaning up a junior's mess would boil anyone's blood... but what can you do? It's all team performance in the end. Just look the other way on this one, Kim."

If the phone shipments went through without a hitch, Team 3's monthly sales target of 6 billion won would be well within reach. That would be a relief. Deputy General Manager Cho returned from the Managing Director's office, then headed back out, taking Hong with him. The two of them were surely off somewhere killing time again.

After lunch, back at his desk, drowsiness came rolling over him in waves. That was when a KakaoTalk message arrived. It was Hye-in.

Time to get back to the shipping war. This round, it was the TVs causing trouble. With the Winter Olympics coming next year, the dealerships were apparently leaning into stocking TVs.

Young-hoon picked up the phone and called Assistant Manager Sung Ki-bong of the factory shipping team—one of the precious few university seniors his company had to offer.

"Hey, it's me—Young-hoon. No problems with our product shipments this time, right?"

"One sec. The order number is... 23325xxxx."

"Hyung, come on, throw me a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lifeline here! If this doesn't ship, this month's sales figures get a giant hole blown in them."

"Of course. Absolutely! Thanks, hyung! All right, take care."

And just like that, the TVs were locked in for one hundred percent shipment. Now it was time to secure the refrigerators. By the time he'd spent the whole afternoon fighting with the factory shipping team, quitting time was already closing in. All he had to do was bide his time and slip out quietly. But then... sure enough, a punctual exit was not to be. Right before the end of the workday, the Sales Support team leader came looking for their team leader. When that man came calling at this hour, the reason was obvious: some other team's sales numbers had sprung a leak, and he was out pushing the shortfall onto whichever team had slack to spare.

With the team leader absent, Manager Kim, the most senior manager on deck, had to hold the line—and with his years of experience, he'd hold it well. Kim's true skill was no joke. Sales orders were already sitting at over 120 percent of target, but he was putting on a pitiful act, insisting the numbers might not even reach 100 percent because of shipping delays. And it wasn't even a lie, technically: the phone shipment—a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠delivery worth a staggering 900 million won—wasn't scheduled until the day after tomorrow, so if anything went wrong with it, Kim's claim would become gospel truth.

The Sales Support team leader pulled rank and pulled every trick in the book, demanding they add another 200 million won to their target. Kim held out as long as he could, but eventually the two seemed to reach a rough compromise at just 100 million more. And just like that, the sales target grew by 100 million won. Early in the month, an extra 100 million would've been nothing to fret over—but at the tail end of the month, it was a very hefty sum. Still, Manager Kim's face was a mask of perfect blankness, as though he'd seen this month-end ambush coming from a mile away.

The four of them gathered once more in the meeting room.

"As you all know, the domestic marketing department as a whole is running a little short on sales. A few of the regional teams ate their targets whole, so our team has to pick up an extra 100 million won. Then again, this same song and dance plays out every single year, so I can't say I'm surprised. Anyway—here's the thing. I've got about 100 million won of sales already lined up, so what I need from you is simple: make absolutely sure your dealerships' shipments don't spring any leaks. The remaining 100 million is my responsibility."

Apparently that "Manager" title hadn't been won playing go-stop in the break room. Manager Kim really was a hidden ace. Which only made it harder to understand why the company gave him so little recognition.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, quitting time had come and gone. Not a single soul had left the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠office; everyone was hard at it. Every month-end, the company floor turned into something close to a battlefield—and almost all of it revolved around sales. For most people, it meant one phone call after another: to the factory shipping team, the distribution center, or a dealership owner.

Young-hoon, whose own work was already finished, began carefully scanning the room for his opening to make a run for it. He might as well have been a prisoner plotting his escape from behind bars.