We ordered more used clothing donation boxes.
Since it was a race against time, the design didn't matter. I told the manufacturer that any shape would do as long as it functioned as a donation box. I only emphasized the need for accurate color and wording on the exterior.
The wording was as follows:
Used Clothing Donation Box
Your used clothes can become a warm hope for the less fortunate and people with disabilities.
Korea Association of Persons with Disabilities
Beware of similar donation boxes.]
"Hehehehehe. I can't wait for the new boxes to arrive. Just thinking about it gives me chills."
My laughter seemed to be getting increasingly sinister. As I was chuckling in my office, Maru opened the door and came in.
"What are you doing? Are you busy?"
"Not really. The employees are doing the work. It's the CEO's privilege."
Maru sat down next to me and said,
"The director of the orphanage used to say that those who don't work shouldn't eat."
"CEOs and employees have different roles."
"Well, I just remembered what the director used to say when he made us do chores."
Maru's unfortunate past seemed to flash before my eyes for a moment.
"Anyway, you know what? You don't even care about Chunha Resources anymore, do you? Another junkyard is opening in the industrial complex."
The previous owner of Changjo Resources had finally sold the junkyard. He must have made enough money, so I didn't feel sorry for him at all.
Another junkyard had opened shortly after I started my business, and while I was busy with computers and secondhand goods, yet another one had sprung up.
Including ours and the rebranded Changjo Resources, there were already four junkyards, and now another one was joining the fray.
"Isn't this overkill? Five junkyards?"
"The competition is getting fierce. Rumors are spreading among the junkyard owners. They're saying things like, 'He drives a foreign car to work, works with trucks, and then leaves in his foreign car,' 'Junkyard owners are rolling in cash,' and so on."
"I don't even have a foreign car yet."
"That's not the point. The problem is the increasing competition."
No wonder Chunha Resources' sales had been declining recently. Our monthly net profit, which had reached 13 million won, was now down to 5 million won.
Although the scale of my business had grown significantly since I started Chunha Trading, which handled discarded computers and secondhand goods, Chunha Resources was still just a small junkyard with a 660-square-meter site.
But even so, a net profit of 5 million won from such a small junkyard was not a small amount. Many office workers didn't even earn 1 million won a month.
"Should I just sell Chunha Resources? I shouldn't be wasting my time on this."
I was handling over 1 billion won in cash every week. I had five office employees, and including the branch staff, I had over 40 field employees and over 70 day laborers, totaling over 100 employees.
I was the CEO of a company with over 100 employees. It was inevitable that I would neglect Chunha Resources, which was run by just one truck driver and two field workers.
"Are you already getting complacent and acting like a CEO after just a few months? You're talking about selling a business that's consistently profitable? It's only been a little over six months since you started Chunha Resources."
"You're right. I've lost my beginner's spirit. But what can I do if I don't care about it anymore?"
"Sigh, just leave it alone as long as it's not losing money. You never know what might happen."
"Alright."
I ignored Maru's disapproving look.
"Anyway, you said you ordered 1,000 more donation boxes. How many are you planning to install in total?"
"I'm thinking 5,000 for now, maybe up to 10,000."
"Gasp!"
Maru exclaimed in shock.
"You're going to install all of those?"
"Yeah, we might even need more to cover all the residential areas and apartments in the country."
"But how are we going to manage all of them? Are you going to hire more employees? How much are used clothes worth anyway?"
"How much are they worth? You ignorant fool. All the clothes in the donation boxes are free, so it's pure profit. A full box should weigh at least 100 kg, right? At 260 won per kg, that's 26,000 won. Not 26,000 won per month, but 26,000 won every time it's full. Considering how much Koreans buy and discard clothes, it won't take more than a few days for a box in a densely populated area to fill up. That's not a small amount of money in a month."
"But do you really need to install that many? How many employees would we need to manage them?"
"Well, we'll figure it out."
"Hyung, can you trust the employees with this? We can't monitor them. What if they sell the clothes from the donation boxes to nearby junkyards before bringing them to the company?"
That was one of my concerns as well. There was no way to know if the employees were colluding and deceiving me.
Our current system was based on the branch employees buying from junkyards at a 10% discount from the standard price and then receiving the full price when they delivered the goods to the headquarters in Ansan.
But if an employee secretly sold some of the clothes from the donation boxes and then claimed they bought them from a junkyard, I would be paying for the clothes from my own donation boxes.
There were hundreds of transactions every day, and it was impossible to verify each one.
"That's the problem. How do large corporations manage so many employees? How can they trust them? But we have no choice. We're not losing money, so we have to push forward."
Maru added,
"And it's not like making donation boxes is difficult. If the junkyard owners start copying us, we won't be able to respond to each one. What if the junkyards and secondhand traders start installing them everywhere?"
I smirked and said,
"That's not a problem. I've taken care of it."
"You have a solution?"
"You know how I'm giving the association president 10 million won a month and donating 5 million won to the association?"
"Yeah."
"In return, we're installing donation boxes to help the less fortunate and people with disabilities."
"…Okay, let's say that's true."
"But if junkyards install donation boxes next to ours with good intentions, it would reduce the amount of clothes donated to help people with disabilities. Wouldn't that anger the people with disabilities?"
"Hyung, you're not…"
I smiled brightly and said,
"They should be starting about now."
***
"Shame on the businesses exploiting the less fortunate and people with disabilities!"
"Shame! Shame!"
About twenty people with disabilities were protesting in front of the Democratic Liberal Party headquarters near the National Assembly building in Yeouido, chanting slogans.
It was a busy area with a lot of foot traffic, so people stopped to watch and see what was happening. After the chanting, one of the protesters, in a wheelchair, moved to the front.
"Prease herp us."
The protester seemed to have a speech impediment and read from a piece of paper in a slurred voice. The person pushing the wheelchair stepped forward and said,
"Please help us."
It was like a translation. The protester would say something, and the person next to him would repeat it in a clearer voice.
"The Korea Association of Persons with Disabilities has been running a campaign to collect used clothes and help the less fortunate and people with disabilities. But sadly, some unscrupulous individuals have started exploiting this campaign."
A reporter who had been waiting nearby started taking notes and photos. The person next to the wheelchair deliberately messed up the protester's clothes and continued speaking with a somber expression.
"Our campaign…"
The protests weren't limited to Yeouido.
"Shame on the businesses exploiting the less fortunate and people with disabilities!"
"Shame! Shame!"
Five people with disabilities were protesting in a residential alley, holding signs and reading from A4 sheets of paper in front of a used clothing donation box.
It was the first time there had been a protest, let alone one by people with disabilities, on this quiet street, usually used by residents commuting to work and children playing.
"Shame on the businesses exploiting the less fortunate and people with disabilities!"
"Shame! Shame!"
The protesters handed out flyers they had prepared to passersby.
Most people couldn't bring themselves to refuse the flyers offered by the people with disabilities and took them, reading them as they walked.
"Oh my, oh my, goodness. There are such bad people in the world. They're saying that donation box is fake."
"Really? I threw my clothes in there yesterday without knowing."
Two women whispered to each other as they looked at the flyer.
A man walked by. His name was Park Jong-bum, a 33-year-old secondhand trader operating in Mapo-gu.
He picked up a flyer with trembling hands and read it.
"…The 'Used Clothes for a Good Cause' campaign run by the Korea Association of Persons with Disabilities is suffering from the emergence of fake donation boxes set up by unscrupulous businesses. These individuals are setting up similar-looking boxes near the association's donation boxes and collecting used clothes for their own profit. We urge residents to…"
Park Jong-bum threw the flyer to the ground and shouted,
"This is nonsense! I installed that box first! It was my idea, I was the first one to do it! You scumbags, you trash!"
He marched towards the protesters, who were repeating the same slogans, and yelled,
"Are you really from the association? I installed that donation box first! I started it to help the less fortunate!"
One of the protesters took out an association membership card and said,
"We are officially registered members of the Korea Association of Persons with Disabilities. You must be the owner of that donation box. We were the first to come up with the idea of used clothing donation boxes and have been installing them nationwide. You just happened to install yours in Mapo-gu before we got there."
The two women nearby started whispering.
"They're right. That donation box was there first, wasn't it? He probably saw us installing boxes in other areas and quickly installed his while we weren't looking."
"Yeah, he's a bad person."
Park Jong-bum's face turned red with anger, and one of the protesters took out a piece of paper and handed it to him.
"This is our representative's phone number. If you have anything to say, call this number."
"Fine! I'll call! You'll regret messing with my donation boxes! It's my private property, I'm calling the police!"
Unable to contain his anger, Park Jong-bum went to a nearby payphone and dialed the number on the paper. After a few rings, a voice answered.
—Hello?
"Is this the association representative? I started the donation box business first! How dare you claim it's yours? Are you scammers? What are you guys?"
As Park Jong-bum yelled into the phone, he could hear laughter on the other end of the line. He was about to explode again when the voice said,
—Nice to meet you. I've been wanting to talk to you. How about we meet and discuss this? Give me your address, and I'll come to you. Or you can come here. It would be easier to talk if you came here.
"…What are you trying to pull?"
—I want to talk about something that would be beneficial for both of us. My name is Park Sol from Chunha Trading.