I took the laptop from my backpack and put it on the table Yu seemed to have left behind. Toner, moisturizer, sunscreen, cologne, hair gel, and a comb joined it. I unpacked shampoo, conditioner, and a razor, hung all my shirts and suits so they wouldn't crease, and sorted the rest of my clothes. It was already past six thirty.
I sprayed deodorizer on yesterday's suit and cologne on myself. If I'd had my way, that alcohol-soaked suit would have gone straight to the dry cleaner. I styled my hair with wax in the tabletop mirror, making myself presentable enough to avoid abuse at work. Loud yawns and stretching noises came from outside.
Probably Hwang heading into the bathroom. Something crashed in the living room. When I went to look, Kim Jong-do had fallen off the sofa and was rolling on the floor, groaning in pain.
“Did you sleep well?”
I went to the dining table and took out four rolls of gimbap. I'd found the shop during my enforced two-kilometer morning walk. The owner said people heading up Mount Taecheon bought gimbap from the crack of dawn. Going to the bank seemed harder than climbing a mountain, so I'd bought four rolls among the hikers. Smelling food, Kim got up.
“Officer Eun, you're quite industrious, aren't you?”
His eyes were so swollen I wondered whether he could see, but he promptly sat on the sofa and reached for a roll. Every breath reeked of alcohol. Apparently, his stomach still wanted something after all that drinking. The roll vanished in an instant.
When Hwang finished washing, I called him over to eat. Apparently, the people here usually left without breakfast. Lee Tae-bong emerged in his underwear with hair like a magpie's nest, ate a roll, and went back to his room. He didn't wash.
Most of them had left their cars at the branch, so all three got into mine. It was a compact. I'd heard plenty about what sort of man drove such a small car. But as a recent recruit, it was the only kind I could afford without a loan. With four adult men inside, it struggled. Hwang yawned widely.
“Officer Eun. I think you need a different car.”
“You're right. Let's work hard and make some money today.”
Get out. Walk. I swallowed the words at the back of my throat. Working life. This is working life. I need to earn money.
We arrived at seven ten, and much the same routine repeated itself. This time, it was one in the morning when I got back. Unlike yesterday, I couldn't even wash before collapsing into bed. My six o'clock alarm woke me, and I washed half-asleep. I only became vaguely alert while brushing my teeth or shaving. Drying my hair, I dozed sitting against the wall. The six-thirty alarm saved my dignity. I hurried into my clothes, and we men took Hwang's car from outside the apartment to arrive at seven ten.
The women from their residence arrived five minutes later in Gu Ji-hye's car. Everyone seemed to drink about the same, regardless of age or sex. Yet the men came in looking like garbage, while the women somehow maintained consistently human forms. I didn't understand it. Were their livers twice as good? Did they take something? Look at Lee. Perhaps because he hadn't washed, every breath smelled of fermented food waste. How did Gu look so normal?
That night, I got off work at half past midnight. Taecheon held staff dinners almost every day. I headed straight for the bathroom, vomited up everything, then crawled out to find Lee sprawled beside Kim in the living room. Lee usually seemed to make it to his bedroom, but apparently not tonight. Hwang's door was open, so at least he seemed to have gone to bed. Soullessly, I drank the hangover remedy and energy drink I'd bought at lunch and stowed in my briefcase. As I changed into a loose T-shirt and shorts, I heard a quiet noise. The front door hadn't latched, and the lock kept going Beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep. I closed it properly. Lee, the last one in, must have left it ajar.
I scrubbed myself clean, then lost consciousness against the wall while drying my hair in my room. When I checked my phone, it was seven in the morning. This is insane! I threw on clothes and rushed out with my socks in my hand. Kim and Lee were still exactly where they'd fallen asleep in the living room. I shook them awake in a panic. They got up and prepared to leave just as they were. Kim threw the TV remote he'd held last night onto the sofa. Yawning, he washed his face and tried to leave without even brushing his teeth. You're going to work like that? We rode in his car and barely arrived at seven twenty, just before the manager.
The moment I arrived, all I wanted was to go home and rest. Ma saw the state of his staff and offered to buy coffee. Don't buy us coffee. Stop the staff dinners. The words rose to my throat.
Tonight, we only ate dinner and skipped karaoke. Thankfully, the restaurant strictly closed before ten, so we finished at nine thirty. It was nearly ten when we reached the residence. This was the earliest I'd got off work all week. Lee went straight into his room and didn't open the door until the next day. Hwang, on the phone, seemed to notice my gaze and shut his door. For the first time, I saw Kim go into his bedroom instead of collapsing on the sofa.
I got three suits to the dry cleaner in the apartment complex's shopping area just before closing. Back at the residence, I wondered whether it was too late to run the washing machine, but necessity won. I put socks, shirts, and underwear in together and noticed the detergent was almost gone. I'll need to buy some this weekend. I opened the fridge on the off chance. A few beers, several tubs of pickled radish apparently left from delivered chicken, and a few one-and-a-half-liter bottles of cola. Something vaguely apple-shaped was dying blackly in the fruit drawer. Who knew when it had gone in? I closed the door and pretended not to see it.
I ironed shirts, cleaned my sneakers, and hung up the finished laundry. After washing and drying my hair a little, I thought I should memorize the benefits of the new card we'd launched. It remained a thought. I fell asleep holding my phone without even opening my briefcase.
Running water woke me at six fifty. Someone seemed to be washing. In the living room, I saw Lee's bedroom door open. Probably him in the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth at the kitchen sink, then left at seven ten. I hated the thought of work. How late will we finish tonight? Barring problems, Hwapyeong had usually let us leave by seven thirty in the evening. Staff dinners happened once a month, if that. They were at famous restaurants that needed reservations, with fine food and wine. People secretly looked forward to them. A staff dinner meant eating your fill somewhere expensive you'd been curious about, without paying yourself.
Taecheon rotated among a few restaurants that used Goldlight as their main bank. We were forced to drink soju until they closed at ten or eleven, then go to a karaoke bar serving alcohol for a second round of beer or mixed drinks past midnight. After Hwapyeong, Taecheon's dinners made me want to flee halfway through. I was surprised to discover that impulse in myself.
It was Friday, but time inside the branch seemed frozen. I felt every second pass. Thinking of another dinner even made me wish work would never end. I hated the prospect so much I messaged Song.
[Manager Song. Are we having another staff dinner today?]
[Hardly ever on Fridays. The client companies don't like Friday dinners. And everyone has to go home for the weekend, so we usually don't. Why? Got plans?]
No dinner tonight. Wonderful. I'll go home, lie down, and do nothing until I have to come back. I just want to rest.
[Yes. I'm going home to pick up some clothes.]
[Just buy them online.]
At four thirty, Ma suddenly called everyone into his office for an afternoon meeting and announced there would be no dinner.
“Taecheon staff. Who has no plans on a Friday? Meet people over the weekend, catch up, and bring in business. Weekends are not for resting. If you do not work on weekdays and do not work on weekends either, why have a job? Weekends exist to generate sales. During the week, you are tied to the branch and cannot get out, correct? The weekend is your only chance to go wherever you like and meet people freely. Friends, family, relatives, anyone. Start a casual conversation. Tell them you need credit card applications. Ask them to invest in a fund. Ask whether they need insurance. Do not even think of returning empty-handed. That weak, lazy attitude is what prevents results, muddies the team atmosphere like a loach in a pond, and ruins a branch. I look forward to your triumphant return on Monday. Manager Hong. Give the new staff deposit and credit card application forms.”
“Yes, Branch Manager.”
I couldn't tell whether he was joking. Then Hong actually pressed deposit application forms into my hands, and it became real. When I got home on Friday evening, my familiar room and bed, lightly dusted from a week of disuse, comforted me. I lay down and didn't move. Like a switched-off robot, I did nothing. Sometimes I went to the kitchen for lunch or dinner. Otherwise, I probably wasted all my time in bed on my phone. I didn't want to do anything. I even postponed plans with friends until next week. Once I started resting, the weekend vanished. When my parents asked about Taecheon, I only said it was fine.
Time flew frighteningly fast. Before I knew it, it was early Monday morning, and I was getting ready from four thirty to head back. I hated having to go. Not the work itself. Meeting customers and handling their requests was fine. The problem was the sales targets. My brat of a younger sibling messaged for the first time in ages, sending an image of a mayfly in a suit heading to work. The caption read [So eager to go to work in such a short life. It must really love the office?]. I sent back an image of a raised middle finger and drove toward Taecheon.
As soon as I arrived, Hong messaged asking for our sales figures. I'd issued only eight credit cards last week. The manager wanted twenty a day. That was impossible. There weren't that many customers desperate for a credit card. Try it and you'll see. Unless a company banking with Goldlight suddenly hired twenty employees who needed employee benefit cards.
Hong compiled the figures in Excel, printed them on A4, and submitted them to Ma. Glaring at the names and numbers, he abused each employee according to their total. Asking whether they wanted to keep breathing while working that badly was routine. He repeatedly demanded whether they had no conscience, wanting a salary while burdening the branch and doing no work. At least a few customers had come to my desk wanting credit cards. Bu had managed one all last week, and even that she'd issued with my help after messaging because she didn't know the procedure. We'd gone through the application screen together. She'd been here less than a week. Even checking each visiting customer's card status and asking whether they'd like one if they had none would be difficult.
The manager shouted in anger and demanded to know what we'd done over the weekend to bring in business. I hadn't done much. Work-related efforts? Going to the supermarket for more underwear? Buying a power strip because my room had only two sockets? I lied that I'd suggested cards to friends and planned to meet them soon to secure applications. Bu couldn't even lie. She admitted she'd seen a film with a friend and got scolded harder. Ma didn't say much to the intern, Ji, about his figures.
After leaving the office, Bu, Ji, and I were taken into the vault for another dressing-down from Hong. Did we have any intention of generating sales?
“Don't want to work? Trying to quit?”
If we failed, she got scolded, she said. Were we doing this because we wanted to see the manager yell at her? She berated us. I envied Yu for resigning.