The Bidding War (4)
The timing worked out nicely — if he grabbed a bowl of pollack soup with President Jung of Seoul Distribution and then headed over to Hankook University, he'd arrive with time to spare. He'd already called ahead before setting out, so the old man would be waiting for him.
President Jung Yoon-bok of Seoul Distribution had run an LK Electronics dealership in Seoul for over thirty years, and had served several terms as chairman of the Seoul regional dealer association — a true elder statesman of the dealership world. He had dealt with more than thirty head-office representatives over the years, but he had never once met anyone like Young-hoon.
For one thing, being a country boy from Gangwon Province, the young man was fundamentally honest and guileless. Yet the quick wit and cleverness he displayed from moment to moment outshone even the sharpest Seoul operators. It pained the old man that, because Young-hoon had graduated from a third-tier university, he was never given the respect his abilities deserved.
He'd gotten a call that very morning saying Young-hoon would come by for lunch, so he was waiting when Young-hoon pushed open the dealership door and walked in.
"It's been a while. Ten days, maybe?"
"I wanted to come sooner, sir. End of the month it's all sales closings, and the start of this month the phone incident had me running in circles."
To President Jung, Young-hoon was like a son of his own. Which was why worry made him press the point.
"Assistant Manager Kim, let me ask you again — you had nothing to do with this phone business, did you?"
"Sorry? Wasn't that whole thing swept under the rug?"
"What are you talking about? They found the ones who did the dumping."
Young-hoon knew perfectly well who the culprits were, but he kept a straight face and played dumb.
"Two dealerships dumped phones. One was Kyungin Distribution, the other was Gyeongbuk Distribution, a Daegu marketing outfit."
"Wait — Kyungin Distribution?!"
"That's right. If you're not connected to it, do me a favor and keep quiet about it. Intelligence came in that Kyungin dumped 2,500 units and Gyeongbuk dumped 1,000. Kyungin did it in two separate batches, and Gyeongbuk once, at the end of last month."
"I can see how Kyungin would, being in Seoul, but why would Gyeongbuk — a Daegu dealership — dump phones in Seoul of all places?"
"The Daegu market's too small to absorb it. They probably figured if they threw it all into Seoul, nobody would trace it back."
"So what's going to be done about it?"
"Nothing's been decided yet, but it sounds like the Seoul dealer association plans to send an official inquiry along with the evidence to the head office audit team. The year-end is about to get messy."
Young-hoon felt a flicker of unease at the news that the dealer association was moving, but since he was innocent of any wrongdoing, he decided not to let it bother him much.
"So, President Jung, how are sales trending this month?"
"Fine, apart from the phones. And TVs are moving well. I took a big TV shipment last month, and it's turning out to be a real cash cow."
"Glad to hear it. Then I can mooch some pollack soup off you without feeling guilty, ha."
"You rascal. You could come by every single day and I could still afford to feed you pollack soup. Where else would you find a rep who looks after dealers the way you do?"
"Now you're just polishing my halo. Where's this soup place?"
"About ten minutes on foot. We should get moving, though. It's a famous joint — show up late and the crowd might eat it all before we get a bowl."
"Right then. I'm in your hands, sir. Heh heh."
By the time Young-hoon arrived at Hankook University, it was just past one in the afternoon — about an hour before the bidding deadline. In the bidding hall, President Park of New Seoul Distribution and his staff were busy preparing their sealed bid. Employees of Samjung Electronics, LK's chief rival, along with a handful of smaller firms, were preparing theirs as well, but this fight was plainly a duel between LK Electronics and Samjung. The remaining small outfits were there for window dressing, nothing more.
In a lowest-price sealed bid, the results are announced on the spot the moment the deadline passes, so it was standard practice to make the announcement within five to ten minutes after two o'clock.
President Park looked up and frowned at Young-hoon in mild surprise.
"Huh? Deputy Hong didn't come — you did?"
"Don't you like me, President Park? Only asking after Deputy Hong."
"Of course not. What dealership owner on earth dislikes you? You're just not our account rep, so I was curious, that's all."
"I wrote the bid progress report myself yesterday, so it made sense for me to come."
"Ah, right. Good to have you. We need to submit the bid by 1:50 at the latest... Say, Assistant Manager Kim — have you given any thought to what number we should write down?"
"There's still a little time before the deadline. Let's keep an eye on what the Samjung boys are up to."
"Doesn't look like they've settled on their figure either. Their dealership owner and their head-office rep have been huddled together this whole time."
Young-hoon watched the Samjung rep and the dealership owner talking in earnest, and considered drifting over to eavesdrop. But as he sidled past them, the pair stopped talking altogether, leaving him no choice but to shuffle back, ears burning.
If only Archmage Hines had granted me a power like Somus's — the gift of hearing. Then I'd know exactly what those two were plotting. What a waste, damn it.
And yet, as if the Archmage had heard his wish, before the thought had even finished forming, snatches of the two men's conversation began to drift into his ears.
"Boss, what number do we write to win this?"
"Can't you decide for me, Deputy Jung?"
"We need to check what the LK people are doing first. Any intel come in?"
"I pulled every string I know. Word is 9.9 billion, plus or minus ten million won."
"Then those bastards will be writing somewhere between 9.89 and 9.91 billion. That assumes they bid their lowest, 9.89 billion... So we just need to come in under 9.89 billion."
"Really? Deputy Jung, what ceiling did the office give you?"
"They said to judge based on what LK does — we can go as high as 9.88 billion. That gives us about a ten-million-won cushion."
"Then we barely net anything at that price."
"Better to win the bid first and worry about that after. We've worked this hard — losing now would leave a bitter taste. If we take the contract, we can recoup the construction costs later, so don't fret."
"If head office is going to compensate us, then let's write 9,888,900,000 won."
"Fine, let's go with that. I'll call head office now and confirm the figure."
"There's less than twenty minutes to the deadline — hurry up and get that confirmation."
"Yes, don't worry. It'll take less than five minutes."
Yes! I've got their number. If they'd written 9.89 billion, I'd have been well and truly screwed.
Now the two men's voices faded away entirely. It wasn't as though he could hear conversations from very far off — more like he could pick up speech from slightly farther away than an ordinary person could, and even then only for about five minutes at a stretch. It seemed to be tied to absolute pitch, one of his musical talents. He could examine this ability slowly some other time. The bid was urgent, so he hurried off to find President Park of New Seoul Distribution — who was still fluttering about, unable to settle on a price.
"President Park, time to lock in your number."
"What would you like me to write, Assistant Manager Kim?"
Young-hoon already knew exactly what Samjung was going to bid, but showing it was absolutely out of the question. So he feigned deliberation for a while before speaking with great effort.
"How about 9,888,800,000 won?"
"Can we actually land it at that price?"
"On my way in this morning, I saw a dung truck. Seeing one in the morning means good luck, they say — so put a little faith in me just this once."
"All right. Even if we lose, I won't hold it against you. Write what your heart tells you."
"Don't you worry a bit, sir. We're winning this, no question about it. My luck's been running hot lately."
Having settled things with Young-hoon, President Park wrote down his figure and submitted the bid with ten minutes to spare. The results would be announced somewhere between 2:15 and 2:20. Everyone in the hall waited on tenterhooks for nothing but that announcement. Young-hoon, who already knew Samjung's number, was perfectly at ease — though he made a show of nervousness, careful not to let anything slip.
In the meantime, Deputy Jung of the rival Samjung Electronics sauntered over and struck up a friendly conversation. They'd crossed paths several times at bidding halls, but theirs was an acquaintance of faces, not of any real depth. He seemed to want a word with Young-hoon away from the others.
He didn't need to be a genius to see what this was about. The man wanted to know what figure New Seoul had written down.
"Good to see you, Assistant Manager Kim."
"Good to see you too, Deputy Jung. Been keeping busy with the bid preparations?"
"What's there for us to do? The dealership handles all the prep. We just hand over the product pricing, that's all."
"Then I take it your bid's already in. Shall we swap numbers, you and I?"
"Gladly. We wrote 9,888,900,000 won. And what did LK Electronics write?"
Young-hoon broke into a wide grin and declared victory.
"If that's really your figure, Deputy Jung, then we've won. We're exactly one million won under you."
In an instant, Deputy Jung's face crumpled as though he'd bitten into something foul. Since Young-hoon had already known the outcome, it came as no great shock — but skewering his rival Samjung like this was still a delicious feeling.
It wasn't unusual for rival companies' employees to run into each other at bidding halls. Sometimes they'd pool information on the spot, and when the bids were already sealed, as now, they'd occasionally reveal their figures to one another. There were cases where men hid their price or lied outright to guard against a failed tender, but in a lowest-price bid the winner is always determined, so there was no need for concealment. In a qualified-criteria bid, of course, you never, ever disclosed your number.
Time slipped by, and then some more, until at last the announcement hour arrived. Young-hoon was certain of his win, but he pressed his lips together and feigned ignorance to the last. Finally, the Hankook University bidding officer mounted the podium to make the announcement.
"For bid number XXXXX, the contract for the ceiling-mounted HVAC replacement work is awarded to LK Electronics. The winning bid: 9,888,800,000 won."
The instant the words landed, President Park and his staff at New Seoul Distribution erupted in cheers, while the rival dealership's owner and employees filed dejectedly out of the hall. Young-hoon celebrated alongside the New Seoul crew, then stepped aside to phone in the results to the office.
"Team Leader, this is Kim Young-hoon."
Deputy General Manager Cho had apparently been on pins and needles awaiting the result — the response came the instant the call connected.
"Yes! How did it go?"
"We took it. Our figure was 9,888,800,000 won, and Samjung came in at 9,888,900,000. We won by one million won."
"Good work. Get back to the office safe."
Deputy General Manager Cho was clearly overjoyed — there was a faint flush of excitement in his voice. But, as ever, the man said only what he needed to say and nothing more. Perhaps because he was so devoid of warmth, the call felt dry as dust.
Having finished reporting the successful bid, all that remained was to amble back to the office at his leisure.
What Young-hoon could not have dreamed of, at that very moment, was that something serious was unfolding back at the office.