Chapter 90: Corporate Grind Amid Soccer Peril

With my father and brother—who had mocked the idea of uprooting their foundations through marketing—I inspected Daeyang Group's distribution division. From Daeyang Department Store in Gangnam, Daeyang Mart, Daeyang Convenience Stores, and Daeyang Outlets, all the way to the distribution logistics center on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province that supplied goods to every one of those outlets.

"Not even a full affiliate tour, and you've come all the way out here."

"It's spotless and impressive. Factories and logistics centers should all be like this—no speck of dust left behind."

I deliberately ran my fingers along the conveyor machinery at the logistics center, showing my father that not a single particle of dust stuck to them.

"Director Kim, your team's keeping things shipshape. It's clean as can be."

"Th-thank you, Chairman."

Kim Han-wook, the director of the Gyeonggi Logistics Center, bowed repeatedly to my father and shot glances at his staff. Then, from behind the pallets, forklifts hauled out stacks of Daeyang's myriad products.

"What's all that piled up over there?"

"Our company's products."

I walked over myself, pulled a utility knife from my pocket, sliced open a small box, and extracted its contents. Out came a hairdryer emblazoned with the [DAEYANG] logo.

"Of course, I'm not planning to just hand out all 80,000 units willy-nilly like TVs or washers. But the 80,000 giveaway for the quarterfinals and 400,000 for the semifinals? Those are essential."

"Dae-hyun, you're serious about prepping gifts for the quarters and semis?"

"Yeah."

I showed my brother and father Daeyang's lineup of small appliances.

"Across all Daeyang Global distribution channels, customers spending a certain amount get special coupons. Then, through a lottery on those coupons, we gift the products."

"You said TVs and washers, but hairdryers?"

"For the quarters' 80,000: 50,000 are hairdryers, electronic watches, small radios. 20,000 are toasters, coffee pots, microwaves, fans. The rest: phones, rice cookers, vacuums, DVDs, dishwashers, audio systems. And the top 1%—800 units—get washers, computers, TVs, tiered by category."

"Hmm…"

As my father pondered that, my brother asked,

"'Certain amount'—like 10,000 won gets one coupon?"

"Not just a flat amount. Coupons need tiers too. Essentials one way, furniture and clothes from department stores and marts another. Naturally, bigger spenders get better odds on premium items."

My father spread his hands wide.

"I thought you'd be giving it all away for free and tanking us, but this is coupons for paying customers, tiered by purchase volume for the event?"

With his signature finger-tapping abacus motion, he calculated and nodded.

"Alright, for a shot at riding the world's biggest party, it ain't bad."

My father and brother nodded, holding our products. Truth be told, Daeyang Electronics had been doing OEM for imported appliances post-IMF, acquiring mid-tier white goods from smaller firms—cheap stuff you only saw in motels or public facilities. Even after I bought Blackburn, we'd done OEM deals with Philips in the Netherlands and Siemens in Germany under Daeyang Global, but white goods flopped, so we'd pivoted to medical devices and telecom gear. The UEFA Cup discounts had been a tightrope walk to barely break even on margins…

Now we were R&D-ing new products to boost brand value, but the road was long, and these were generic mass-market items everywhere. So, facing quality and quantity hurdles, I chose to buy time with a massive marketing flood.

"Engrave special World Cup logos on them for solid after-sales support. Keep folks using them through the 2006 World Cup, even 2010."

"Let's crunch the product costs first."

"And ahead of the World Cup, blast it everywhere: 'Daeyang Group's dropping over 400,000 gifts in the event.'"

"!"

"That's the marketing. From bathhouse hairdryers to cutting-edge TVs—it's all our stuff, right?"

The gist was simple: Not all 400,000 were high-end. Just flood the market with 'everyday appliances bearing the Daeyang name.' No lies told—this would be the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game-changer for appliance market share.

Having toured the logistics center and locked in the basics, my father and brother headed home. In the car, I said,

"One more proposal on the way."

"Shoot."

"Use this World Cup boom to brand Daeyang. Time to rename affiliates."

"!"

"Shin Nuri Telecom becomes Daeyang InfoCom—DYT acronym?"

To match rivals like SYT, KTT, LZT, it was time for three-letter branding.

"Even in the POSCO joint venture, our mobile biz stuck as Shin Nuri Telecom. Sudden rename might confuse folks?"

"Brother, that's why now—seize the chance for 'One Brand': Daeyang in Korean, DY in English, unified."

"Hmm."

In the car, my father and brother sank into thought. Back then, beyond Daeyang, we had octopus tentacles: acquired affiliates mumbling their own names, unlisted subsidiaries sputtering, joint ventures whatever. Suckers everywhere. No more. All under Daeyang, marching as Daeyang Group.

"Handle the brand switch, Dae-cheol."

"Yes, Father."

Chaebol giants swapped CI or names for 'innovation' all the time—really to funnel cash through family design firms. A full Daeyang Group CI overhaul could fund a solid midfielder signing, but Father handed it to my eldest brother.

"And the phones."

"Yes, Father."

"We acquired Hyun Kyung Electronics' Q-Rittel, but market share's zilch."

"Still, mobile's essential. We ditched finance in restructuring but kept telecom for a reason."

Father jabbed my shoulder, full of gripes.

"Dae-hyun, you always ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠do this—toss 'future of business' bombs and bail when it's rough."

"Right now, sustain ops, invest in R&D and talent. Current execs can handle maintenance."

"Your TV soccer spiel, this hundreds-of-thousands giveaway—shiny words won't cut it if the process flops."

"…"

"Fix that too. No vanishing to watch ball games—make the process pretty."

"…Got it, I will."

"That Busan shoe factory. Even with the British Umbrella crew, only hit 60% capacity. Check it, sort Busan-Gyeongnam logistics and megamart sites too."

Father, insisting I tidy Korea before leaving. Brother shrugged—stuck with the workload.

Back at Jongno HQ, I tackled the backlog, then buried myself in paperwork at home. Took the rest to Busan, staring at Asiad Stadium from the hotel, grinding away.

"City Hall pushes west Busan hard—less developed, most aggressive on corporate tax breaks."

"Then build the logistics center and mart big in Seo-gu."

"Next to the soccer team?"

I pointed to the plot by Gudeok Stadium, home of Busan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Daeyang Royals.

"Post-World Cup, they'll renovate the comprehensive stadium into a soccer-specific one."

"!?"

"20,000 to 25,000 seats. Next door: Daeyang Mart, Daeyang apartment complex."

"A whole new stadium? Budget?"

"I'll fund it personally. Got European stocks to sell."

"!"

Construction around 150 billion won; I could cover 100 billion with personal shares. Parma Azenda at peak—time to cash out fully. Exit before the accounting scandal six months out, watch from afar as players jump ship.

"I'm only bankrolling the stadium. You push the mart, apartments, public facilities beside it—a 'mixed cultural complex.'"

Not scattershot factories, warehouses, apartments—bundle for synergy, like I pitched Paju to Jang Jun-mo. Approval hits, it's a jackpot.

Brother jotted it, then next item.

"Expansion: electronics factory by logistics. Phone division needs this scale? Bigger than the motor plant."

"One day, phones eclipse all white goods combined."

"Hope so, but after…"

I showed partners scaling the phone biz: MP3 firm A-Receiver, nav/DMB/car audio maker K-One Mobility. Post-DurumiNet Nasdaq jackpot, invested proceeds, exercised stock options—MP3 phones, color phones tech and funds secured.

"Father stressed process, so: Leak via media 'Daeyang's 65K color phone,' '40-poly ringtone phone'—build hype, hire talent, expand factory, launch. Investments bear fruit."

"Think it'll… work?"

"It will. Guaranteed."

"Moving like you saw 30 years ahead."

I flinched but laughed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it off.

Stuck in Korea hashing business, I tracked Champions League via 300kbps cutting-edge internet.

Opponent: Barcelona, Luis Figo's old club??

"This… is bad."

No easy teams in quarters, but this matchup.

Barca fans turning hooligan on Figo, everyone voicing concerns. Scrolling articles, I contacted Yupp Heynckes.

"Is the situation in Spain that dire?"

Can't beat Barca without Figo, must go full strength—but off-field trouble could explode.

"Don Yupp, squad and club reactions?"

One conclusion: Trust the manager, don't meddle.

"I respect your call, Coach. Hope it ends smoothly, win or lose."

Call ended, cigarette found my lips automatically. Wanted to jet to England, join the Camp Nou trip, see it myself.

"Whew, no way those bastards are throwing pig heads now…"

Blackburn holding league lead without me—wrap this up, get back.