The Workshop's First Employee

"What are you talking about all of a sudden? What about Seil Tech? You've been doing fine there."

The title had been mostly for show, but back when I was at Seil Tech, handing out Manager business cards had bumped Taeseok all the way up to Deputy General Manager at twenty-nine. Of course, at a small company where a single word from the boss could turn a part-timer into a manager overnight, a job title didn't mean a great deal — but it still came in handy when you were looking to change jobs.

He always seemed pretty content there... Did he get into a fight with Boss Han or something?

"Well... Seil Tech shut down."

"What...?"

And now this? What kind of nonsense is that supposed to be?

This didn't seem like a conversation to have standing in the doorway.

Looks like that drive with Mom will have to wait until tomorrow.

I flicked the workshop lights back on and showed Taeseok inside.

"This doesn't seem like something we should keep talking about out here. Come in and have a cup of coffee while we talk."

I brought him in and set a kettle on to boil.

"You're going to fill the cup all the way up, aren't you?"

"Yeah..."

Taeseok was the kind of man who, when drinking mix coffee, filled the paper cup to the brim. Anyway, he was a good person — his taste in coffee, however, was an absolute disaster.

A moment later I handed him a Maxim filled to the very top of the cup.

"Here you go. Ugh, how do you even drink it this watery?"

He took a sip and answered.

"What? This is just right for me. If I only fill it halfway like everyone else, it's so sweet I can't stand it."

"That's the whole point."

I sipped my own coffee — water filled to just under the halfway mark — and asked him.

"So what's this about Seil Tech shutting down all of a sudden? A company that was doing well doesn't just close its doors."

"Well..."

Seil Tech may have been a small outfit, but it had been a decent one. Above all else, the boss was a man with a real gift for sales. Considering that most small companies ran on the salesmanship of the owner and maybe a couple of directors, that was no small advantage.

Was it a cash-flow problem, then?

"Did the company's finances go bad?"

Taeseok let out a long breath before he spoke.

"No, it isn't that... The truth is, the boss has cancer."

"What? Boss Han has cancer?"

He nodded and went on.

"Yeah. Colon cancer, they said."

"Is it... is it bad?"

"Not like that. They caught it early, luckily. They say it's curable. But ever since the diagnosis, it seems like a lot of things have been going through his head."

"Ah..."

I had a fairly good idea what that meant. I had lived a hundred years on Mount Olympus and come back, and my own attitude toward life had changed a great deal. Boss Han's case was hardly on that scale, but a man who had stared down a serious illness — even one he would recover from — could not help looking at the rest of his days differently.

He wants to put his energy into something other than work now...

"I think I get the picture..."

"His son isn't taking over the company? Or anyone else?"

"His son's a doctor. It'd be pretty strange for him to hang up the white coat overnight and inherit a factory."

"Fair enough..."

Taeseok let out another heavy sigh.

"Haa... He looked around for someone to buy the place, from what I heard, but nobody suitable turned up. So in the end they decided to close. The one bright spot is he's giving us a pretty generous ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠consolation payment on top of the severance."

"Well... he was never the stingy type when it came to money."

Boss Han might work you to the bone, but he was never the sort to be cheap about a paycheck.

Taeseok fell quiet for a moment, then glanced at me and spoke with obvious care.

"So... I was just wondering. Cheol-woo, last time you mentioned you might need to hire someone. Do you still?"

"Mm... I could use a pair of hands, yeah, but..."

He clasped his hands together and pleaded.

"Then I'm begging you... These days, finding work is a lot harder than I thought. Every place that's hiring is out in the countryside. I already bought a house here — the provinces are absolutely out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the question. Cheol-woo! I'll work hard. I swear I will."

I do need someone...

I wasn't at the workshop all day. Sometimes I went out to source materials myself, and there would be days I had to go to school. Right now, that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meant locking the place up every time I left. If I had one more person, I wouldn't have to close the doors just because I stepped out.

Well. Why not.

Taeseok was older than I was, but he was a decent man at heart. He already knew a fair number of the skills a workshop could use, he was quick with figures, and he was the sociable sort who got along with just about anyone.

"Alright. It's too late tonight, though — why don't you come back tomorrow and we'll write up an employment contract?"

"For real!? You're really hiring me!?"

"Yeah. I needed someone anyway. Ah — and if you come on, you'd be in charge of putting together the price estimates for clients. That alright with you?"

"Estimates? Don't worry about it! I'll give everything I've got!"

His face lit up, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he even bowed his head to me.

"Then I'll be in your care from here on! Boss!"

"Boss? Come on..."

The next day, when Taeseok arrived, I handed him the employment contract I had prepared at home.

"How does it look? Read it over, and if you're happy with it, sign."

"Hold on."

He read through it slowly. Midway down the page, his eyes went wide.

"Uh... Cheol-woo... I mean, Boss?"

"Hm? Is there something weird in the contract?"

"You didn't write the salary and all this down wrong, did you?"

"What are you talking about?"

I took the contract back and checked it again.

Nothing wrong here.

"No. I wrote it correctly."

He stared at me, his voice unsteady.

"Are you... sure it's okay to pay this much? You're not going to change your tune later?"

"Didn't you make about this much at Seil Tech?"

"The base pay, sure. But this has a separate incentive on top of it."

"You've got to have at least this much or where's the fun in putting estimates together, right? If you don't like it, I can just strike it out."

Taeseok caught my hand before I could take the contract back and pulled a stamp from his bag.

"Don't like it? Are you kidding? Thank you very much! No take-backs later, Boss!"

"I'm not going to regret a thing like this."

He stamped every page and handed the contract back to me.

"So when do I start?"

Taeseok stood, opened his bag, and pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Why drag it out? Let's start today."

"You really don't have to speak so formally..."

"Come on. This is a proper company and you're the boss. How could I not?"

Well, strictly speaking I'm a hundred years older than him, so I suppose it doesn't matter.

"Alright. Suit yourself. Ah — the materials over on that side are a mess. Mind starting by getting those organized?"

He rolled up his sleeves.

"Okay. Don't worry about it."

Taeseok sorted the materials with practiced ease.

He's definitely got a head for this kind of work.

I had noticed it when I taught him welding, too — Taeseok was sharper than he let on.

Anyway. It's going to get a little noisier around here.

And just like that, the All-Around Workshop had its first employee.

"Haa... Why can't I focus..."

Jeong-hoon set down the fountain pen he had been holding.

Months now, and I still can't write a proper page...

He opened his phone, meaning only to rest his eyes for a moment, and found the messenger flooded with unanswered notes from the publishing house.

Haa... As if I want to be like this...

Jeong-hoon took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Huu..."

The smoke helped, a little. The anxious knot in his chest loosened by a fraction.

Kim Jeong-hoon. By most measures, he was a novelist who had done rather well for himself. His debut and his second book had both sold respectably, and he had become, in short order, a writer the publishing world paid attention to.

And yet for the past two years he had not produced a single volume — not even after signing a contract with a publisher.

The problem was focus. At some point, sitting down to write a novel had become an exercise in futility. He simply could not concentrate.

He knew the reason.

It was the writing instrument sitting right in front of him.

It had started about two years ago. He had become absurdly sensitive to the sound of writing. Even when the sound was his own, the faintest scratch of nib on paper shattered his concentration.

There was nothing he hadn't tried. Fountain pens, ballpoints, pencils — even felt-tips, markers, and so-called silent ballpoints. All of them were the same. The moment the sound of writing reached his ear, every scrap of focus collapsed.

Going digital was no better. The clack of a keyboard grated several times worse than any pen or fountain nib.

He had even seen a psychiatrist. Same result.

The fountain pen he used now at least let him concentrate for a moment, which was why he was still using it. But a moment was all it was. He would sit down determined to write, and his concentration would not last ten minutes. The faintest scritch in his ear, and everything came down in a heap.

Haa... I'm going to lose my mind...

He needed to publish now just to keep living, and at this rate it was simply not going to happen.

"I'm going to go insane... I really am... Huu..."

Cigarette smoke filled the room.

That was when the phone rang.

"Huu... Hello."

Relief came through the line so clearly he could hear it.

"I'm sorry... I haven't been able to write a word lately. I haven't even had the presence of mind to reply."

"Yes... I'm sorry. I think we'll have to postpone again this time. Or maybe..."

He almost said he might never publish again, and only just bit the words back. He wasn't ready to put down his pen for good. The regret would have been too much.

This was already the third delay. He fully expected a reply laced with resentment.

What came through the phone instead was something else entirely.

"Yes... that's right."

"What...?"

"Boss. We're running low on this material — should I put in an order?"

"Which one?"

"The titanium, and... ah, the palladium over here is almost gone too."

"Right. There's a list of the order sites next to the computer over there. Place it through those."

"Okay. Got it!"

Having an extra pair of hands really does make a difference.

With someone to take the odd jobs off my plate, I could actually concentrate on making things.

I was just settling in to start on another piece when a commotion rose from outside the door.

"Look, just forget it. Let's go back. There isn't a decent writing instrument I haven't already tried."

"Author, please — just go in once and think of it as being fooled. If it doesn't work, I'll take full responsibility for the extension myself."

"Haa... Fine. But I'm only sitting down for a consultation. That's it."

A moment later the door opened, and two men stepped in: a man in his forties with unkempt hair and glasses, and a man in his thirties with a neat, upright look about him.

Taeseok stood and went to meet them.

"How can I help you?"

The younger-looking of the two answered him.

"This is the All-Around Workshop, right? We're here to commission a ballpoint or a fountain pen that makes absolutely no sound."