"My Story (18): A New Year's Eve Incident – 1963, Gimcheon Middle School, 1st Year"
(Written on May 28, 2021)
There are several memories I hold dear of my father, but today I’ll share two that stand out. First, his extraordinary memory and calculation skills. Starting my seminary education late and unexpectedly becoming a scholar, I spent 25 years in academia, surrounded by many brilliant minds. Yet, when it comes to memory and arithmetic, I’ve never encountered anyone as exceptional as my father, and my own abilities pale in comparison.
However, I’ve learned that a remarkable memory isn’t always an advantage. As a child, one thing that often frustrated me was my father’s refusal to do bookkeeping, even as he managed a taffy factory. At the time, business transactions were mostly conducted on credit, with payments settled during future purchases. Despite this, my father never kept a ledger for these credit accounts. It baffled me, especially after I turned eleven and fancied myself to have some sense of business. So, I asked him:
"Dad, you’re giving out goods on credit without keeping any records. What if someone denies their debt later? What would you do?"
My father confidently replied:
"You don’t understand. I remember everything, even conversations from ten years ago. They can’t deny their debts. When I recount every detail of the transaction exactly as it happened, they won’t have the conscience to refuse. I’ve never had anyone not pay me back because I didn’t keep a ledger."
That was his answer. My father never attended school, but his memory and calculation skills were like a supercomputer. By the time taffy production wrapped up around 3 p.m., he could simply glance at the tubs of finished taffy and accurately calculate the day’s profit. No matter how much I nagged, he refused to budge on his no-ledger policy, which he had developed during the Japanese occupation while conducting credit transactions with merchants in Daegu.
As a young boy, I couldn’t help but grumble internally:
"Oh, Dad. You’re so stubborn. You’re not going to live forever—what will we do without you?"
Despite my frustration, I couldn’t argue against him. I had always been an obedient child, respectful to my parents. However, I decided that if my father wouldn’t keep records, I would. With help from my mother, I started maintaining transaction ledgers and took them with me when collecting payments. This became crucial because my father was incredibly kind-hearted—he often returned empty-handed from visits to struggling customers, unable to ask for money.
"What kind of businessman doesn’t even collect his own money?"
This became my second major grievance with him.
At the time, I was in my first year at Gimcheon Middle School. Our taffy business thrived twice a year—once before Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) and again before New Year’s Eve. During these periods, diluted taffy syrup (jocheong) was sold in large quantities to confectionery factories, while our home was swarmed with customers buying taffy for making rice crackers. These seasons were incredibly profitable, as we sold directly to individual customers for cash at premium prices. The entire family worked tirelessly during these busy days.
On New Year’s Eve, our family would visit all our customers to collect outstanding debts. It was customary to settle all credit accounts on this day; missing it meant waiting until the next year. Starting that year, my father began avoiding certain customers for collections. Unscrupulous business owners, knowing his soft heart, would feign hardship when he visited, and my father, too kind to press them, would leave without asking for payment. Worse still, he would never revisit those customers again.
As a result, my mother and I were tasked with handling these difficult cases. One such customer was a large confectionery factory in the local Marketplace. Whenever I visited, they had no choice but to pay. This earned me quite a reputation among our customers.
"How can a kid be so ruthless? He’s nothing like his father. What will become of him when he grows up?"
But what did I do to deserve such comments? My strategy was simple: persistence. This “leech strategy” became my go-to approach later in life, even during my tenure as a representative at the Samsung New York office, handling steel pipe imports. Back then, I would walk into the store during peak business hours and sit by the counter, silently observing the owner conduct business. The New Year’s rush made the store incredibly busy, and my presence unsettled the shopkeeper. Feeling guilty for not paying but reluctant to settle the debt, they would grow increasingly uncomfortable with my silent persistence.
I’d make things worse by picking up an expensive confectionery item and casually remarking:
"Sir, this looks delicious. I skipped dinner, so I’m really hungry."
Unable to refuse outright, the shopkeeper would grudgingly say:
"Fine, eat what you want. How much can a kid like you possibly eat?"
I’d grab a handful of confectionery with one hand and munch loudly, commenting every now and then:
"Wow, business is booming today. How much have you made so far?"
After hours of this behavior, they would inevitably give in and pay their debt. In this way, I became the bad debt collector, addressing those who took advantage of my father’s kindness. Naturally, this earned me a reputation as a “ruthless” boy.
"Why are they complaining about paying what they owe? Isn’t that ridiculous?"
This was my thought as an eleven-year-old, grumbling to myself.
After that, whenever I visited customers with my ledger, they’d promptly pay their overdue debts. There was no greater satisfaction than handing over the collected money to my mother, who would praise me:
"You’re a true businessman."
Later, I became known for my expertise in steel pipe exports at Samsung. Within just four years of joining the company, I was assigned to its New York office, where I made a name for myself in the industry. However, looking back, it’s clear that my business acumen began to develop during those early years.