Back in college, I joined a singing club 🎤. Every year, the club would put on a performance, filled with duets, solos, or group acts. I might not have been the most enthusiastic member, but I wasn’t a slacker either. Even if I wasn’t a fan of our song choices, I didn’t have strong opinions either. I was just like any other shadowy figure in a club, avoiding the spotlight.
After graduation, I occasionally went to see the club’s performances with friends. It wasn’t impossible to carve out a bit of time in the evening. The campus always felt timeless, like a charcoal sketch straight out of a Pixar film. The path to the auditorium, marked on the ground, resembled a wormhole to the past. At the end of the path stood the hall, buzzing with juniors prepping for the show, as if time had stopped in that moment.
I’m not sure how much time had passed since graduation. The previous year, I was too busy to attend, so it felt nostalgic to be back. The theme was childhood school days, and as the conductor and manager announced the start, the show began. It might have seemed amateurish to some, but to us and the juniors, it was a moment of sincerity unmatched by any other. The stage lights flickered, sets changed, and teams performed, but familiar faces were absent. That’s how it always was. The only information we had before the show was the names printed on tickets and pamphlets.
After the performance, we awkwardly greeted each other. We always invited seniors to watch, but they rarely showed up. Not once did a senior come to watch when I performed. I guess we were a bit odd. Walking to the after-party with unfamiliar juniors, united only by the club’s name, was always awkward…
Take a seat here
The smiling girl who announced the show’s start revealed she was the club manager. We took seats at a corner table, quickly filled with snacks and drinks. When I mentioned I couldn’t handle alcohol, she handed me a hangover cure with a grin. ‘This will do the trick,’ she said, though it didn’t, and my friend had quite the task getting me home that night.
We kept in touch occasionally. She graduated, got a job, studied abroad, and eventually got married. Or perhaps it was marriage first, then study. Last year, while visiting a building in Yeouido for work, I ran into her by chance. She was now a mother but still smiled like the cheerful girl I remembered. First impressions last, and no matter how much time passes, they remain vivid. Meeting someone again can transport you back to that initial moment.
She invited me to see her ‘hideout,’ just like she guided me to the after-party years ago. It was a library-themed cafe near her work, run by a publishing house known for its beautiful covers. Even in a world where reading has become rare, she still loved it and often visited to read 📚.
Our tea arrived quickly, and we began catching up on the past few years. We talked about changes, the club’s disappearance, and eventually, our jobs. She shared her thoughts on adding value for clients, reflecting her job’s philosophy and sense of duty. She was no longer that little kid from back then.
Most of what I do inevitably affects others. If we consider that our professions started as barter, creating services and products that help each other makes perfect sense. That’s why business ethics should come before profit. A win-win mechanism naturally involves profit, meaning trust from clients is more valuable than simple margins. But with so many focused on profit over trust, her mindset was admirable and lovable. In a universe that’s been around for 13.8 billion years, our time is less than a century. Shouldn’t we ponder how to spend such a gift?
Watching her hurry to meet her child at the company’s daycare, I truly hoped she’d find the answers to those questions.
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