Work That Has Become Second Nature
In the car bound for Ilhyeon Hotel sat Kim Seong-ho, Jeong Byeong-ju, and Seong-ho’s friend Jo Byeong-jin.
Jo Byeong-jin, unable to sit still, twisted around toward Seong-ho in the back seat.
“Seong-ho… no, Director Kim, are you sure it’s all right for me to come along?”
“What’s with the sudden ‘Director Kim’? I already cleared everything. Why? You don’t want to?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to…”
Byeong-jin glanced sidelong at Jeong Byeong-ju behind the wheel, then turned back to Seong-ho.
“I’m just wondering whether a regular sales guy from Ilhyeon Distribution has any business waltzing into group headquarters—into the Strategic Planning Office, of all places.”
“By that logic I was just a regular sales guy from Ilhyeon Distribution myself.”
Seong-ho put Byeong-jin’s nerves at ease, then leaned forward a little toward the front seats.
“Section Chief Jeong here, me, and you—the three of us are the brand-new Restructuring Team under Strategic Planning. I’m going to start with Ilhyeon Hotel and keep going. To do that I need people who’ll back me up. That’s why I called you. So I’m counting on you from here on.”
“Hey, I’m the one who should be saying that. You pulled me into the heart of the group. Still…”
Byeong-jin turned his head and eyed the approaching Ilhyeon Hotel through the window, worry creeping into his voice.
“I don’t know the first thing about restructuring… Can I even do this?”
“Don’t worry. Just stick with me.”
Seong-ho clapped Byeong-jin on the shoulder and looked out at the hotel growing larger in the glass.
Outside the entrance of Ilhyeon Hotel, staff waited for Kim Seong-ho with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.
They watched the approaching car and traded quiet remarks among themselves.
“That the one?”
Word had spread that the headquarters director who had handled the Ilhyeon Watch restructuring was coming, and they had been waiting so intently that time itself seemed to vanish.
“They’ll do us the same way they did Ilhyeon Watch, right?”
The hotel employees recalled the stories from the watch company and already felt a warm glow at the future that was about to arrive for them as well.
“I know someone who worked at Ilhyeon Watch. Between severance and the consolation package he walked out with about a hundred million. Just like that.”
“A hundred million? He really got a hundred million to quit?”
“I’m telling you. He took the money, traveled for a month, then hopped straight into a job at the company next door.”
“That’s basically winning the housing lottery.”
“Exactly. The people who stayed are the ones kicking themselves now.”
Listening to the talk of severance and consolation pay, the hotel staff were already running frantic mental calculations.
“If factory workers at the watch company got a hundred million, we should get at least two hundred, right?”
“Of course. We’re hotel staff. Two hundred million minimum.”
“I heard Eastern Hotel is hiring. Grab the consolation money here and jump over there.”
Once other hotels’ openings entered the conversation, even those who had been only half-considering retirement found themselves leaning hard toward it.
“Eastern’s recruiting? Then I’m out for sure.”
“Me too. Consolation money and I’m gone.”
“No reason to stick around here either. Seoul alone has dozens of hotels. This chance won’t come twice—we take it.”
Because of the Ilhyeon Watch stories, the hotel employees no longer saw restructuring as something to fear. They saw it as an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance to walk away with a fortune in a single stroke.
In their eyes the car carrying Kim Seong-ho had begun to look like Santa’s sleigh.
When the car finally stopped at the entrance, the staff erupted into an enthusiastic welcome.
Inside the car, Jeong Byeong-ju watched the scene with open bewilderment.
“What’s gotten into them all of a sudden?”
Jo Byeong-jin peered out the window, equally puzzled.
“I came braced for open hostility… Why are they cheering us?”
“They must think we look like Santa Claus.”
“Santa Claus? Where’d that come from?”
Unlike the two men staring in confusion, Seong-ho understood exactly what was running through the employees’ minds.
He had seen it before, in the old days—people treating the man sent to restructure them as a savior. He knew precisely what these staff members were thinking now.
“Time to shatter that little fantasy.”
A faint smile touched the corner of Seong-ho’s mouth as he spoke to the two in front.
“Shall we?”
Jeong Byeong-ju opened the driver’s door first. Jo Byeong-jin followed from the passenger side. Last of all Kim Seong-ho stepped out, and the Restructuring Team of the Strategic Planning Office began its first official assignment: bringing Ilhyeon Hotel back to health.
In the president’s office of Ilhyeon Hotel, the hotel’s executives sat across from Kim Seong-ho and his team, steaming cups of tea between them.
“As you already know from headquarters’ notice, Ilhyeon Hotel is, as of this moment, switching to emergency management mode.”
Seong-ho spoke with practiced ease, addressing the president and the gathered executives.
“Restructuring Ilhyeon Hotel will be our top priority. Once the restructuring is complete, we will return to normal operations.”
“Um… Director Kim.”
President Jeong Jae-su of Ilhyeon Hotel offered an awkward smile.
“What… what happens to us?”
“‘Us’ meaning whom, exactly?”
Jeong Byeong-ju cut in first.
Still wearing that forced smile, Jeong Jae-su gestured toward the executives seated around him.
“Us. The executives sitting right here…”
His voice trailed off as he studied Seong-ho’s face for any reaction.
The chairman’s once-despised youngest son-in-law had scored a major victory at Ilhyeon Watch and risen in status overnight; Jeong Jae-su was careful now. He brightened his smile as much as he could and pressed on.
“I don’t know if you remember, Director, but I attended your wedding… exchanged greetings with the chairman… I’ve only been at Ilhyeon Hotel three years, but I came from another hotel and I take pride in the time I’ve spent with this place… Are we… also looking at something like the Voluntary Retirement Plan?”
The moment President Jeong opened the door on voluntary retirement, the other executives pounced with their own questions, as if they had been waiting for the cue.
“Looking at Ilhyeon Watch, the package only went down to department-head level. What about us? Do we get several months of base pay as well?”
“Frankly, I think we should receive a flat sum the way the assistant managers and below did at the watch company… and of course more than fifty million, right?”
“The difference between a watch company and a hotel should be reflected in the consolation money. That’s how the staff here feel.”
“So how much has Ilhyeon Hotel’s consolation package been set at?”
The barrage left Jeong Byeong-ju and Jo Byeong-jin staring in open disbelief.
Restructuring had not even begun, yet President Jeong and his executives were already haggling over consolation pay. It was pathetic. And if the executives were like this, one could only imagine the rank-and-file—pens already in hand, waiting for application forms that had not yet been issued.
Seong-ho waited until every last question had been fired, then spoke slowly.
“It seems you are all laboring under a rather serious misunderstanding.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean by that…?”
“President Jeong, and every executive here, are contract employees. There is no such thing as voluntary retirement for people bound by fixed-term contracts. When the contract expires, you simply part ways.”
“Director…?”
Eyes widened all around the table. No one had seen that coming.
Seong-ho’s calm voice landed like a blade honed to a razor edge—and that blade swung without mercy at the executives’ throats.
“Instead of asking about consolation money, you should have asked how this restructuring will proceed. Only if you help me finish it cleanly will there be any hope of another contract for any of you. If not, your relationship with Ilhyeon ends right here.”
He finished and flicked a glance at Jo Byeong-jin. Byeong-jin pulled a sheaf of documents from his bag and handed them over. Seong-ho set the papers on the table. President Jeong stared down at them.
“What is this?”
“A salary-return pledge.”
“A what?”
Jeong Jae-su looked up, startled. Seong-ho let his gaze sweep across every executive present, then set the blade against their necks.
“It is a contract stating that you will draw no salary until the restructuring is complete. Sign it and your pay will stop starting next month.”
“You’re telling us to work for free?”
One of the executives exploded. Seong-ho met his eyes without flinching.
“You don’t like it? Then leave the company.”
He said it as casually as if he were discussing the weather, then looked around the room again.
“Let me remind you once more of your position. An executive is a contractual post. Your performance over the year decides whether you stay or go.”
The executives sat mute, stripped of words. Seong-ho continued.
“From this moment your performance will not be measured by how much profit Ilhyeon Hotel generates, but by how cleanly the restructuring is executed. As the first step, you will fill out these salary-return pledges—and resignation letters as well.”
He gestured to Section Chief Jeong. This time Jeong Byeong-ju produced a stack of resignation forms and laid them on the table.
The executives who moments earlier had been dreaming of a happy future now looked ashen. The salary-return pledges alone had been shocking; the resignation letters tipped them into pure confusion.
Seong-ho watched their bloodless faces and spoke again.
“You will sign the salary-return pledges and the resignation letters first, then we will begin the restructuring. The salaries you forgo will be restored in full if the restructuring succeeds, so you need not worry. This is how Ilhyeon Hotel’s restructuring begins.”
He tapped the documents lightly with one finger.
“I will say it once more: if this does not sit well with you, leave the company right now. We will calculate your pay through today’s date and settle it.”
Seong-ho straightened his collar and rose from his seat.
“That concludes my introduction. When you have decided, come find me.”
The executives sat frozen like statues, words gone. Seong-ho gave their dazed faces one last sweeping glance, then left the room while they still stared blankly at the papers he had set before them.
Only when the conference room was well out of sight did Jo Byeong-jin lean in and ask quietly,
“What the hell? Why are you so good at this? Did you practice at home or something?”
Jeong Byeong-ju looked equally curious. Even during the Ilhyeon Watch restructuring, Seong-ho had moved with an ease that seemed almost unnatural.
Seong-ho smiled at the two men studying him.
“Looks like this suits my nature.”
“Suits your nature? This?”
Even if the work came with real power, it still meant saying hard, ugly things to people. From a distance it might look impressive; up close it was the kind of job only someone who took genuine pleasure in hurting others could enjoy. Most people hated being hated. They wanted kind words and to be seen as good. The work Seong-ho had just taken on required the opposite—unpleasant talk that could easily earn lifelong resentment. For him to claim it suited him made Byeong-jin wonder whether this was still the Seong-ho he knew.
But there was no way for Byeong-jin to know.
In the previous life Seong-ho had done exactly this kind of restructuring work until he was sick of it. The Ilhyeon family had always planted him in the posts that drew every curse and every drop of hatred.
Waiting for the elevator, Seong-ho smiled to himself.
After twenty years of doing it, the work had simply become second nature. Perhaps, he thought, he was finally being repaid for all that suffering.
He watched the elevator doors open and spoke to Byeong-jin.
“We still have things to do. Save the talk for later—let’s get in first.”
Section Chief Jeong stepped in after him and asked, curiosity plain on his face,
“Things to do? What kind of things that we can’t even unpack our bags first?”
“We’re heading up to the restaurants.”
“The restaurants? Why?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Seong-ho only smiled lightly and said nothing more.