Death by Economics

By Kenneth MacKay

Recently, I watched a man die, metaphorically speaking, and there was nothing I could do to help him.

I was looking for some place to eat when I saw the bins of cheap CDs and DVDs outside his music shop. I wasn't looking for a lucky buy so much as for something unusual to amuse myself with. A closer look told me that this was, or damn well soon would be, a ``going out of business sale.'' In search of a bargain I entered the store. It broke my heart.

A small table next to the cash counter held the only truly saleable product in the store. The rest of the shop was a tomb for pop music's forgotten would-be heroes. The owner seemed to know this. He had bet his survival on 20 or 30 pieces of contemporary pop product. The rest was on filthy, disorganized, half-filled shelves. Battered cardboard boxes filled with, frankly, worthless VCDs cluttered the floor and otherwise empty bins. He had given up all hope, it seemed.

Force of habit (I'm a former music retail manager) led me to tidy up the shelves as I went. The owner sat on his stool and watched me intently. He wasn't watching a potential shoplifter. He seemed terrified that I wouldn't buy anything. He looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. It was as if his life and his soul had been sucked out of him.

I was there for maybe half an hour. There was only one other customer. A well-dressed Korean gentleman, sensing a desperate situation, asked for an unreasonable discount on a DVD. Rejected, he put the movie down and left.

My hands were still empty after 20 minutes of shopping. Easily four-fifths of the inventory was worthless garbage to me. Finally I found a dust-caked CD from a promising 1990s Korean pop star who is probably driving a taxi today. I asked the price. Ten thousand won was a bit more than it was worth but I kept it in my hand as I continued shopping.

Ten minutes later that CD was still the only thing that I had picked up. I stopped for a moment to add up the playing time of the disc. I wasn't going to pay 10,000 won for a 35-minute CD. As I stood there calculating the total I heard a plaintive voice reduce the price by 2,000 won. It had not been my intention to force a discount. Remaining in this dying business discomforted me greatly. I felt physically ill. It was because of the declining music industry in Canada that I was now an ESL teacher in Korea.

I gathered up the other items that I had decided to purchase. Two CDs and three DVDs were all that interested me. The man looked them over and weakly asked me if 30,000 won was okay with me. I smiled and peeled off three tens. I wasn't going to be like the other man and make unreasonable, yet feasible, demands.

I left before I started crying. It was so sad. What was this man's story? He spoke no English and my Korean is basic, at best. I guessed that when he was young he saw a niche for a music store south of the river in the newly developing upscale neighborhood. He loved music. Running his own music store would be a dream come true. I know.

I once had the same dream myself. But he wasn't the only one to see the potential market opening up. Around the corner, less than a 100 meters away, one of Korea's most powerful music chains opened up a sizable store. Gone were his dreams of getting rich in the music business.

His little shop barely got by but he was doing what he enjoyed so he stuck it out, surviving off the larger store's overflow business. Blinded by his dreams, he couldn't see the market changing. Nobody buys music any more. They download it for free. Even the chain store isn't looking too prosperous these days.

His sale isn't helping. It's only postponing the end of it all for a little while. What he does sell isn't generating enough cash flow to purchase sufficient saleable merchandise. What of his bills, rent, utilities and the cost of living? So now he sits amid the detritus of his dreams and awaits the inevitable loss of his livelihood. Soon the landlord will get tired of the excuses and seal the door and seize the remaining assets in lieu of payment of debts.

Part of me wanted to offer to re-merchandise his store free of charge. I was always very good at that. I could spare the time. I'm on vacation. The language barrier prevented such generosity on my part. In truth, I couldn't help him. It's over. Turn out the lights.

The next time I'm in the neighborhood I plan to pay his store another visit. But I know that I'm only kidding myself. That store will fail completely very soon. The present economic downturn will be the proverbial last nail in that business venture's coffin. What will happen to the owner of that little store? Please bear a kind thought and a gentle gesture for those who will suffer most in the coming hard times.

There, but for the grace of God, go us all.

The writer teaches at Bugil High School in Cheonan, South Chungcheong Province.