At some point during my childhood in 1990s New York, I became obsessed with all things Korean. It started with my best friend from school who was a Korean immigrant. I loved the food, the back and forth of the language, and of course the music and dramas. Before too long I was begging my parents to get me a tutor to learn the language and hanging out as much as I could with my friend's family and the wider Korean community. Given I was only 12 at this point, it didn't take me long to become conversational in the language. The advantage of Korean is the script is easily learned and phonetic, there are no Chinese characters. The only real hurdle is the different levels of formality, when to use them, and all the special vocabulary and conjugations.
Fast forward to my senior year in high school, I only wanted one thing, to go to college in Korea. Now I knew, I could never would pass the national entrance exams to one of the Korean "Ivy" leagues, often called SKY, for the first letter of the institution: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. But I also knew that my Korean was strong enough to study in the language, and I wanted to do a business degree so I learned all the terminology correctly and would be fluent in the world of commerce. Lucky for me, I got into Hanyang University, a private university that was considered just below the SKY level.
They say Korean students study hard, and that is true but mostly to get into university. I didn't have the same level of burn-out as my classmates and still had the energy to dedicate myself to my studies. That's not to say I didn't make friends. As the "strange" foreigner who spoke excellent Korean lots of people wanted to get to know me and my story. The good news was as I was at a private university, I was surrounded by the elite of Korean society, particularly the children of chaebol families. I was strategic in getting to know and ingratiate myself with the more connected among my class. My goal was to get into the higher levels of management at a Korean firm, and I made sure to get internships through my friends into the very top firms.
When the time came for graduation, I had my pick of companies to choose from. I decided that the way I would learn fastest was as part of a team of internal consultants tasked with problem-solving and improving the performance of key business units, as well as, engaging in M&A activity. Fast forward, ten years and I was heading the unit, making a name for myself in the Korean business world. I'd even been featured in a number of profiles in business magazines. I always made sure to nurture my relationships from college, and go back to reunion events, and back-scratch my friends by throwing business opportunities their way.
It was at this point that I started to hit the glass ceiling of the company I was working in. It was a combination of factors but, in particular, not being ethnically Korean and not having the right chaebol family pedigree. Neither of which I could solve for. I had, however, decided to naturalize as a Korean citizen which is surprisingly easy if you speak the language well, have lived a while in Korea, and have a good job. This meant I had to do my military service. I chose the Marines, which had the dual advantage of having the shortest conscription period (18 months) and was highly respected.
Of course, the drill sergeants didn't go easy on me. But that was fine. I anticipated the hazing and had got myself into excellent shape, which along with my imposing size at 6'2 and stocky build meant I could take just about anything shit thrown my way. I wouldn't say it was easy, but I came out with numerous commendations.
My old company was keen to get me back, but I wasn't keen on returning knowing the limitations involved. So, I started my job hunt and reached out to several headhunters who worked in my field. I made it clear that my conditions were: significant equity participation, a path to senior leadership, and a decent salary. And this is where my strange story begins.
I had managed to narrow down the list to three companies. Two were in decent shape financially but were on the smaller side. The last one was in trouble financially but on the larger side. I honestly didn't know which to pick. I decided that I would interview with all of them and make my choice down the line after I had more insight into their business models and top management teams.
At the same time as the job search, I was making up for lost time for being a Marine grunt, catching up with friends, and going out to clubs. What I didn't know was I was being stalked through social media. It wasn't as if I had a heavy social media presence, just LinkedIn for business, X for staying on top of breaking news, and Instagram because it is the largest platform in Korea, not that I posted much at all. But it doesn't matter if you post, because everyone else around you in Korea is taking pictures and inevitably your life is shared far and wide.
So, one night I was out at my favorite club with a bunch of my elite chaebol friends, spending money probably a bit more freely than I should have, when I was approached on the dancefloor by a gorgeous, young-looking, Korean girl. She wasn't dressing like a skank like so many club-hopping girls do in Korea. Instead, she looked quite classy. I knew she wasn't underage because the ID requirements to get into a club are very strict in Korea and you have to be 19 years or older. She told me her name was, Iseul, meaning dew, a quite unusual mono-syllabic name and not traditional at all.