The Rules of the Battlefield
6 p.m.
TimePass closed out the day.
The upgraded effect was undeniable. Information had flowed straight into my head — the kind of institutional knowledge that made it feel like I'd already spent months in Corporate Finance. The Corporate Finance unit consisted of five team leaders and five team members, each pair — one leader, one subordinate — managing a portfolio of client companies.
Each team handled about a hundred accounts. With roughly three loans per company, the daily grind was a relentless cycle of loan extensions and post-loan management. On top of that, they had to chase performance targets: proposing new loans and pushing deteriorating ones out the door — the dreaded PUSH-OUT.
Difficult work, all of it.
Should I just do nothing, like the Branch Manager said? After all, if you do nothing, nothing happens. Nothing good — but nothing bad, either.
"Team Leader, it's a pleasure to work with you for the next month."
My team member, Assistant Manager Choi In-sung.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Kim Dong-su."
If TimePass's memories were accurate, my counterpart hadn't even paused for lunch, mapping out the team's work from his desk all day. A far cry from the real me, who'd been catching his breath after the transfer from headquarters. Maybe the humiliation from the Branch Manager had done it — the version of me in those memories possessed a terrifying intensity of focus.
We shook hands briefly and took our seats. Assistant Manager Choi was five years my junior.
"Team Leader, even if it's only a month, please speak comfortably."
"May I, really?"
"Of course. We're family now, aren't we? Haha."
A promising one, this man.
"The other team leaders seem to be gone all day."
"That's right. Most of them go on client visits and head straight home afterward."
"Really? My whole day vanished just getting up to speed. Let's head out and pick it up tomorrow."
"Oh — you're leaving already?"
"It is quitting time, so yes."
"But the Branch Manager hasn't left yet, haha."
At Assistant Manager Choi's words, I hesitated for a moment. It sounded like a light joke, but wrapped inside it was one of the branch's unwritten rules.
"Haha, right. It does feel awkward, leaving before the Branch Manager."
I laughed to cover the awkwardness, and Choi answered with an embarrassed smile. "You might be fine, Team Leader, being a temporary assignee... but that's usually how it goes. And Branch Manager Park Tae-jin, especially..."
He let the sentence trail off, but the meaning was unmistakable. Branch Manager Park judges people by things like that.
I fell into thought. It was my very first day here, my abilities already in question — there was no need to poke the Branch Manager's ego over something this trivial.
And yet.
A culture like this deserved to die.
"Assistant Manager Choi, want to grab dinner with me?"
"Excuse me?"
"Shut down your computer and let's go. Better than pointlessly burning time on overtime."
"Ah... yes. Understood, Team Leader."
***
Wednesday, 8 a.m.
Branch Manager Park Tae-jin summoned the entire staff to a morning meeting, nominally for the year-end performance reviews.
"Gathered, everyone?"
"Yes, sir, Branch Manager!"
"Yes! Sir!"
Counted together, the staff came to about thirty. Thirty employees at a single branch, in this day and age — an enormous operation.
"Kim Dong-su, Team Leader."
"Yes, Branch Manager."
"This is Team Leader Kim Dong-su, effective yesterday. A round of applause, everyone."
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Perfunctory applause rippled through the room, and the Branch Manager continued. "By the way, you left early yesterday. Listen — at year-end, the branch is a war zone. This is when we close out our performance numbers! Why do you think everyone's working overtime, if not for that!"
"Yes, Branch Manager."
"You finished getting up to speed before you left?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Ohh. That's awfully hard to believe. Full comprehension of a hundred companies in a single day."
"Feel free to verify it, if you're curious."
"Forget it. Everyone, focus!"
Branch Manager Park Tae-jin pulled his gaze from me and got to the heart of the matter. "Our branch's performance grade is 7. Seventh out of ten. At this rate, we can't hold our heads up in front of headquarters. What if the Bank President walks past and starts wondering? What if he decides we're just goofing off?"
"......."
"......."
Silence from the staff.
"I know you're not slacking. But the people upstairs don't see it that way, understand? In their eyes, we ARE slacking! Unless the numbers back us up, that's all we are!"
Not exactly wrong — but the employees' shoulders sank noticeably. Morale was breaking before the day had even started.
Satisfied, Park Tae-jin handed out a single sheet of A4 paper to each employee.
"Got your copies, everyone? We may not manage first place this time, but we have to land at least mid-pack, don't we? I've divided the targets one-Nth accordingly. By month's end, every last one gets filled — whatever it takes! No exceptions!"
"Yeesss...."
They answered with voices drained of all energy, and the meeting adjourned. The employees stared at their performance sheets, sighing deeply or whispering to one another.
Assistant Manager Choi In-sung approached cautiously. "Team Leader... are you okay? The Branch Manager was really harsh with you this morning..."
I shrugged as if it were nothing. "I'm fine. He's just trying to do his job, I suppose. But tell me, Assistant Manager Choi — how do you feel looking at that sheet?"
Choi crumpled his paper in his fist. "Don't get me started. He must know full well that our seventh-place grade isn't because we're lazy — it's a structural problem. Corporate Finance deals with major companies, and loans at that scale don't come out the way small retail loans do at a regular branch. And this one-Nth target..."
"It's telling the staff to blow up their own paychecks, isn't it?"
"Exactly. Impossible deals don't suddenly become possible overnight. So people end up buying the products with their own money. There's no other way."
I looked at the performance sheet. The amounts to be purchased came to about a month's salary. One million won in fund fees, a million won a month in bank insurance, ten credit cards...
Not one thing had changed in ten years. The rotten custom of employees splitting the shortfall among themselves when targets went unmet — and the branch manager giving the order.
"Normally, when targets come down like this, what happens? Does everyone fill their quota — no exceptions, no slackers?"
"Yes... mostly. If you don't, the Branch Manager calls you in separately, or calls you out during meetings. And people feel guilty toward their colleagues, so most of them just... self-detonate."
"I see. Then for now, Assistant Manager Choi, don't buy a thing. Let's find some companies actually worth signing up with."
***
I worked the phones, calling company after company. The answers that came back:
"We're fine, thank you."
"Maybe next time."
"The CEO isn't available."
Rejection after rejection. It wasn't going to be easy. I can't let it go on like this.
"Assistant Manager Choi — are there any client visits scheduled at the branch this week?"
"Yes, Team Leader. We have an incoming schedule."
Choi opened his planner. "Thursday at 3 p.m., the CFO of Seoul Systems is coming in about a loan maturity extension. Friday morning there's a credit consultation with Mirae Construction, and Friday afternoon, someone from Dongkwang Electronics is visiting to inquire about an extension."
He hesitated, then added carefully, "Team Leader — did the Branch Manager perhaps give you a list of specially flagged companies?"
I remembered the envelope Park Tae-jin had tossed me the day before. "Ah, right, he did. Why?"
"All three of those companies are... headaches for this branch. If you're planning to push bundled transactions on them, I'd advise against it. The Branch Manager and the previous team leaders have all given up on them."
"Gave up?"
"Yes... They're people with a lot of resentment toward our bank."
"Really? Then why do they still bank with us?"
"Because they can't take their business anywhere else. So-called PUSH-OUT companies — their finances are in such bad shape that other banks won't open credit lines for them."
Of course. Daehan Bank had been negligent toward companies with shaky finances, and the companies felt slighted — and months and years of that piling up could only breed this much resentment.
And these were the companies I was supposed to pitch.
There was no obvious way forward.