In the Heavens Above and Earth

15. 하늘 위 하늘 아래

15. In the Heavens Above and Earth Below

I was fed up with the monotony of my life managing that convenience store in Suwon’s nightlife district. Eventually, some welcome news arrived: the company was looking for a manager to help open a new store in Gwacheon. I decided I wanted the position and submitted an application.

The Family Mart location at Seoul Grand Park had a massive amount of foot traffic and attracted major attention; strategically, it was a very important branch. Obviously, the management’s hopes were high. The employees, in contrast, were cautious. They didn’t see giving up on the familiar and rushing into that sort of risk as being a good idea.

In their eyes, the best the company could hope for would be to break even, while failure would be devastating. It was also a newly opened store, so it felt like anything could happen. But I was unafraid. I wanted to achieve something.

I handed my store over to its assistant manager and went to the new location with a part-timer I called Venus. Veteran employees were already hard at work preparing for the opening. Even the department head had joined in.

I was there as a manager, but as a new employee, I was unclear about my role. I simply had to do what I was told; I didn’t have the authority to survey the whole chaotic situation or to make adjustments.

There were others, too, who were watching the opening preparations intently. As soon as we started setting up items in front of the store, the shouting began. It came from elderly people who sold toys, gimbap, and bottled water along the roadside. It was a matter of survival rights, so the local government wasn’t in a position to simply ignore their objections.

An implicit agreement was reached that items could only be sold inside the store. Also hovering around the area were merchants who had been forced out empty-handed. They had received no share from the deal that was reached between our head office and the Korea Disabled Veterans Association, which held the rights to the commercial area. Premiums weren’t subject to legal protection.

The shelves were filled with all sorts of items for sale. Our stockroom was full as well. I had converted enough money to coins at the bank, and the computer system inspection was complete. I was exhausted from working all night, but my mind was actually quite alert as we approached opening day.

It was a sunny spring day and the leaves were green. I was shaking.

It was the height of the spring field trip season. A veritable ant army of pint-sized customers descended on the store, picking the shelves clean.

As soon as I brought new items out, they disappeared. Our inventory was nearly depleted. Plus, I was terrified we would run out of coins. The daytime sales alone, without cigarettes or alcohol factored in, came out to over 8 million won, or more than 7,000 dollars.

It wasn’t all smiles. It might have been different for a franchise store, but for a branch store manager, having empty counters was grounds for a reprimand. We needed to always have items at the ready for customers. The store was new, so there wasn’t any data to predict sales patterns.

I had gotten no real advice and had been with the company for less than a year, so I obviously lacked experience. I felt nervous, but I put in a rather large order with the distribution center in the hopes of boosting daily sales.

Whoops.

The next day was completely different. There weren’t any field trips. I’d had no idea. Delivery truck after delivery truck unloaded vast amounts of boxes. But there were no empty spaces to be filled. I had no choice but to send the items back.

Ice cream bars melted; refrigerated goods were left outdoors. I couldn’t cope. I panicked, not knowing what to do. The manager strode up in a hurry. He quickly called for sales employees to come and transport the perishable items to nearby stores.

His face was bright red, veins popping out of his neck. I was in a daze as he called me over and began raking me over the coals. I had nothing to say for myself—I deserved it.

I fell to my knees on the asphalt and begged his forgiveness. Passersby glanced over and murmured. Even in his anger, the division director seemed taken aback by my action. Having lost my first job to tuberculosis, I had spent a full year directionless before I’d managed to land this position.

Things had been so dire that I would have sold my soul for any job to escape the mire of unemployment. I was firmly committed to doing a good job—which was why my mistake hurt all the more.

In retrospect, it was nothing. So I would be chewed out and spend the next few days stewing; so what? But at the time, it seemed like everything. I felt like there was now a huge blot on my career, and I believed there was nothing I would not do to make up for it.

Nobody had forced me to kneel; I did it myself, would do it again if that was what it took to survive. I was like a slave who had willingly given up his pride for the promise of some small reward.

It’s been ten years since I joined the Buddhist priesthood. Where has he gone, the foolish sentient being from that day?

Emerging from an echoless canyon, he would tell the vulnerable to no longer be fearful but to stand tall; he would urge us to remember and love our fathers, mothers, and neighbors who have had to bow to the powerful for the sake of their families, and to become the ones who protect them now. For all of our lives are precious, in the heavens above and earth below.

In the heavens above and earth below, I alone am honored.

The three realms are filled with anguish, and I shall rightly bring comfort.

—Siddhartha Gautama