By Oh Young-jin
City Editor
I met three people, each a leader in his or her respective line of work, on Monday.
For five minutes, I had the chance to talk with Oh Eun-sun, who is about to attempt to climb Annapurna and become the world's first female mountaineer to conquer the 14 highest peaks in the Himalayas.
I had a great conversation with Dider Beltoise, general manager of Inter-Continental Hotels Seoul, who says he is a Frenchman with a ``global'' heart.
And I ``met'' Hyundai Automotive Group Chairman Chung Mong-koo, not in person, admittedly, but while editing an article filed by one of my reporters about a court ruling ordering the chairman to pay billions of won in penalties to his own company.
I admire their different styles of leadership but, as with all humans, I found they all have some ``problems'' they are dealing with. So I decided to put them together in a hypothetical situation in hopes of finding out how each would react so that we, the ordinary folks, can gain some insight.
In light of a recent unsavory affair involving my favorite columnist, who used to share the same space with me on this opinion page, I want to put out a disclaimer: ``Read this at your own peril.''
In a hypothetical tavern, Chung sits. The 71-year-old automotive magnate thinks only about how to make better cars but now is feeling so disturbed that he's beginning to have some major doubts.
At that moment, Oh, the mountaineer, comes into the bar and sits next to him. The 45-year-old climber instantly recognizes Chung and says hello.
``Sonata,'' says Chung in return.
But what he meant to say was, ``Ingrates.'' He had been calculating in his mind how many Sonata sedans he will need to sell in order to pay the penalty of 70 billion won.
Earlier, the court had ordered him to pay the hefty penalty to his company. He thinks the ruling is absurd because he has built the automotive giant and, in effect, he is the company. He is also angry that the plaintiffs are small shareholders who are getting richer thanks to his hard work that has raised the company's share prices.
Oh finds Chung's answer odd but continues the conversation.
Oh, being so close to achieving a feat no other woman has achieved, needs someone to talk about a sense of emptiness that may be awaiting her.
``I wonder what I should do later,'' she says, referring to her lack of a plan after her forthcoming attempt to climb the treacherous Annapurna, which was first conquered by a French expedition in 1950.
Oh, 155 centimeters tall, looks Napoleonic in her climbing regalia and with her overwhelming charisma. She has not followed in the footsteps of other great Korean climbers, who have been reduced to television personas.
She is also tired of being sniped at by other climbers and the media scrutiny she faces. Every time when she faces those moments of doubt, she thinks about the many close calls she managed to survive during her conquering of the 13 other Himalayan peaks, all over 8,000 meters in height.
One particular moment still stuck in her mind is her decision to call off her attempt at Annapurna, just before reaching its peak.
``I would not have stopped, if it were not for the other members on the expedition,'' she tells the old man.
Chung replies, ``Elantra.''
What he meant to say was, ``Incompetents.''
He was thinking about the last time he was thrown into jail, for a breach of trust of the company's shareholders three years ago. He had President Lee Myung-bak to thank for including him on the list of businessmen for presidential pardon on the Aug. 15 Liberation Day. In his salad days, he competed with Lee for attention from his late father and Hyundai's founder, Chung Ju-yung, but lost.
His high-paying executives and lawyers didn't do much for him, with some of them selling him out.
``How many Elantras do I have to sell to pay their salaries?'' he wonders with a degree of disdain.
Chung is often criticized for his erratic way of reshuffling top executives, with some of them avoiding eye contact for fear of being fired on the spot. ``Twenty years ago, I would smack them around,'' he amuses himself by saying.
Beltoise, the meticulously attired proprietor of the bar, has been listening to the two. ``Carpe diem,'' he says. ``And follow your instinct.''
What he really meant to say to the chairman was, ``Don't be so `Samsung' about life.''
Hyundai has been successful with its own corporate culture, characterized by a lack of fear for new adventures, compared to Samsung's efficiency-oriented attitude.
As a man of passion but not without restraint, the Frenchman wanted to tell Oh, ``You don't know how happy you are,'' but didn't.
Beltoise has his own problem. He has lived overseas for so long that he's no longer a partisan even when it comes to a football match between a French team and some other nation's teams. His rule is that the better of the two should win.
He is disciplined enough not to show his allegiance to internationalism. Sometimes, this bothers him.
In reply to the Frenchman's consolation, Chung says, ``Equus.''
Equus is the big sedan Hyundai is trying to sell to other countries in order to boost its image as a maker of quality cars. Chung was thinking about the exorbitant costs this entails, especially if what is happening to Toyota happens to his company. He knows that the 10-year, 100,000-mile guarantees on Hyundai vehicles will eventually catch up with him.
Chung does not manage to sleep very well that night.