A moving ordeal in Seoul

By Casey Lartigue Jr.

American novelist and humorist Mark Twain once said: "It is less trouble and more satisfaction to bury two families than to select and equip a home for one."

Multiply that times 10 when you have a limited budget and are trying to move your organization engaged with North Korean refugees to a slightly upgraded office. There was nothing normal about the experience of relocating to a different office in South Korea.

We are delighted to have moved to a slightly upgraded office, but as economist Walter E. Williams quoted his stepfather as saying about serving in the military experience: "It is a million-dollar experience that you wouldn't do again for a million dollars."

We had been office-less the first three years our organization was barely surviving. One of the North Korean refugees studying in our program said that we seemed to be like refugees ourselves. Every time he came to visit, we were operating out of a different organization's office, always on the move.

In mid-2016, we thought we had found our first office, near Sogang University. We were prepared to sign the contract, but then suddenly the landlord stopped answering calls from the agent. Supposedly he had gotten a better offer, but it seemed a bit suspicious. My co-director believed the story, but I had noticed the tone of the conversation had changed a bit as the landlord heard more about our work with North Korean refugees.

The real estate agent then quickly found us different locations to consider. He seemed to be embarrassed about what had happened. He took me to a location near Gwangheungchang station that was a disaster. I had to imagine what was possible, then called my co-director to let her know the location was a disaster but that we should take it because it had the most space available for our limited budget.

The landlord fixed up the location, but it seemed that a farmer was sharpening his knives to be able to sell it in the future. Initially, it was all fine, he was generous and kind, and didn't squeeze us for higher rent after real estate prices went up in the area.

Then, shortly before our first lease was up, the kind landlord began making more improvements. Some of our fans and supporters noticed the difference and thought it was great, especially that he had painted the steps near the office red. I noted celebrating those upgrades would be like chickens celebrating when a farmer buys sharper cutting tools. The landlord was trying to sell the location.

He loved our cause and said he would try to find a buyer who would let us stay there. That strategy failed the first year. The next year, he told us that he would put it on the market again, but he couldn't make any promises. Later, it was clear that he was waiting for us to move, but he wasn't being pushy about it.

Earlier this year, we became more aggressive with our search to move the office. It wasn't just because of the landlord gently tapping his foot. We will also be starting the process to reach highest-level organization status in Korea so even businesses can receive tax-deductions for donating to our organization.

We had several agents searching for a location and we made many fruitless visits. As we narrowed our search to a few places that weren't quite satisfying and a few that were a bit out of our price range, the virus that is destroying the world hit. We had hoped to expand operations, but expanding at a time the world is contracting and engaging in social distancing didn't seem very wise. However, we had already let the landlord know we were moving.

We were running into some problems.

One: Our determination to remain an independent organization was restricting our pool of choices. We had offers, mainly from religious organizations, for them to provide us free or discounted space, but it was clear that they wanted to loop our students into their activities. We have been determined not to be a recruiting ground for political or religious activities. We had to rebuff those offers and do things on our own.

Two: Real estate agents seemed hesitant to mention details about our organization. Of course, they wanted to get a finder's fee, but my co-director realized that they were trying to avoid mentioning that we were engaged with North Korean refugees. She is proud of the work she does and she thought there was no reason to hide it. Sometimes we couldn't hide it ― the agents and landlords recognized me from being on TV.

The real estate agents trying to finalize the deal probably had their own Mark Twain quotes in mind about dealing with unappealing clients.

Three: When we made it clear that we wanted our activities to be known, we had some owners end talks with the agents. In one case, unlike questionable cases before, the owner was unambiguous: "I don't want to deal with North Korean refugees." We had looked at the location, it needed some work. With several small rooms, we could have study rooms for tutors and students to use, thus cutting some of the hidden costs for students and tutors. When the landlord realized the kind of work we do and the people we work with, he unceremoniously ended talks.

We had another owner who seemed to be ready to sell, but after she learned a bit more about what we were doing, she then said the location wasn't available.

We had a meeting with another landlord who wanted to hear more about us. We met her, but didn't feel comfortable; we had already had experienced several landlords end negotiations. It happened again, with the landlord disappearing.

Finally, we had another landlord request to meet us. It turned out to be a mother and daughter. They wanted to hear about who we were and what we were trying to do. The mother and daughter listened as others had as my co-director talked about the work we were doing.

Things were going well as they had several times before, then it was time to finalize the deal at a subsequent meeting. They surprised us by saying they would drop the deposit requirement from 30 million won ($24,000) to 20 million won ($16,000).

We were floored.

We had been struggling to raise money for the move, rejecting overtures from political and religious organizations. A business couple owners of Haanong furniture had donated 10 million won. Next, high school students from the Valor International School who had formed the TNKR Global High School Union raised 10 million won for our move. Knowing our organization's limited budget, my co-director and I had agreed that we would put up 10 million won (about $8,000) between the two of us so we wouldn't have to dip into our organization's core budget.

With the landlord knocking 10 million won off the price, we couldn't wait to sign the contract, set the moving date and move in. After more than two years of raising money and trying to find a place, we relocated within 10 days.

We let our supporters know, but we had to temper expectations. Some of them had known from 2018 that we were seeking to move. In the world of Facebook, saying that you are seeking to move is like saying you have already moved into a glamorous mansion or perhaps the top floor at Trump Tower.

From the moment we announced a few years ago that we planned to move, we were getting congratulatory messages from people wondering when the moving date was, when they could visit and if we would post photos. Some of them who don't check details might think we are moving again.

Finally, we have moved and have no sentimental feelings about the previous location.

I couldn't accept when people kept saying we had moved to a "new" office. It was such an ordeal moving, I was saying that we had relocated. That sounded less romantic, and more of what it was ― an ordeal.

Some volunteers offered to come help us move. After almost four years at a location, we had furniture and items that would have been too much for volunteers to move. We guessed that some might cancel at the last minute or just want to help for an hour or two, not recognizing the extent of the move.

A few donors who heard we were moving sent donations, which we used to pay for professional movers. Watching them move our items reminded me of my time as a part-time mover when I was in college. I was the rookie just looking to pick up some money to use for dates, so I didn't have any responsibility. I was just another pair of hands to help pick up and move items, but they smartly didn't trust me with moving things around tight corners.

Watching those movers made me realize our organization had come a long way. A few years before, my co-director and I, along with a few of our volunteers, would move our handful of items from place to place. A former mover myself, I wasn't interested in doing anything during this move. As I recall, I didn't lift anything heavier than a stuffed teddy bear.

We had gotten through a difficult move. Our fans and others were celebrating our move to a "new" office. I couldn't bring myself to say "new" office. The move had been difficult ―struggling with a limited budget, trying to raise money so we could be prepared for the day we moved, trying to temper expectations of our fans and supporters.

It seemed that we hadn't moved ― just that our office had been beamed to a different location. The first 10 days, we held several meetings. Some people who don't check details went to our previous location.

We had done it, moved the office to a slightly upgraded location. I thought about that Twain quote: "It is less trouble and more satisfaction to bury two families than to select and equip a home for one." I would have only added that it is even more difficult when you are trying to move on a tight budget and are engaged with North Korean refugees in South Korea.

Casey Lartigue Jr., co-founder of the Teach North Korean Refugees Global Education Center along with Eunkoo Lee, was the 2017 winner of the "Social Contribution" Prize from the Hansarang Rural Cultural Foundation and was recently named the 2019 winner of a "Challenge Maker" Award from Challenge Korea.