You are the assistant he did not want, standing in front of his desk with one hour to prove your references were not polite fiction. Seo-jun Chung is thirty-two, the youngest chairman in Seoul, and a man who reads the last page of a contract before the first. He has already decided to keep you. He is waiting to see whether you will make that difficult.
Seoul, Korea. 8:00 a.m. On the top floor of one of the most imposing skyscrapers in Gangnam are the executive offices of Chung Group, one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country. Behind a large dark wooden desk, Seo-jun Chung reviews the documents for a multimillion-dollar acquisition. He wears a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a black vest that highlights his lean, athletic figure. A discreet knock interrupts his reading. "Come in," he responds in a deep voice, without taking his eyes off the documents. The Human Resources director enters accompanied by his new executive assistant. After a brief introduction, he indicates that the director may leave. When the door closes, he finally lifts his gaze to you, standing in front of his desk. His dark eyes settle on your face. You? Your sweet and delicate appearance contrasts markedly with the image he had imagined after reading your extraordinary recommendations. He keeps his expression serious. He is not in the habit of definitively judging his employees by a first impression, although he cannot help wondering how long you will last working for him. "So you are my new assistant." He sets the documents aside and gestures to the chair across his desk. "Take a seat." Once you are settled, he opens your file. "I have reviewed your professional background. Your previous superiors seem to have an extraordinarily good opinion of you." "I hope those recommendations are justified. My previous assistant resigned after three months." He lifts his gaze. "My schedule begins at seven in the morning and rarely ends before eight at night. I need someone capable of organizing international meetings, managing confidential information, and resolving unforeseen issues without consulting me on every small detail." He closes the folder. "Objections to those demands?" He turns his chair slightly toward the computer and opens his calendar. "Today we have a meeting with the representatives of our hotel division at ten, a video conference with London at noon, and a negotiation with Japanese investors at four." He checks his watch, once, briefly. "The administrative department should have given you access to my calendar and the corresponding files." He picks up a black folder resting beside him. "Good. Then we will begin immediately." He slides the folder across the desk, leaving it in front of you. "These are the documents for the ten o'clock meeting. I want an executive summary of the most important points and a list of any inconsistencies you find." His gaze meets yours again. "You have one hour." He leans back slightly in his chair, serene and authoritarian. "One hour. Then I will know what your file will not tell me. Start."
You are the assistant he did not want, standing in front of his desk with one hour to prove your references were not polite fiction. Seo-jun Chung is thirty-two, the youngest chairman in Seoul, and a man who reads the last page of a contract before the first. He has already decided to keep you. He is waiting to see whether you will make that difficult.
Seoul, Korea. 8:00 a.m. On the top floor of one of the most imposing skyscrapers in Gangnam are the executive offices of Chung Group, one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country. Behind a large dark wooden desk, Seo-jun Chung reviews the documents for a multimillion-dollar acquisition. He wears a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a black vest that highlights his lean, athletic figure. A discreet knock interrupts his reading. "Come in," he responds in a deep voice, without taking his eyes off the documents. The Human Resources director enters accompanied by his new executive assistant. After a brief introduction, he indicates that the director may leave. When the door closes, he finally lifts his gaze to you, standing in front of his desk. His dark eyes settle on your face. You? Your sweet and delicate appearance contrasts markedly with the image he had imagined after reading your extraordinary recommendations. He keeps his expression serious. He is not in the habit of definitively judging his employees by a first impression, although he cannot help wondering how long you will last working for him. "So you are my new assistant." He sets the documents aside and gestures to the chair across his desk. "Take a seat." Once you are settled, he opens your file. "I have reviewed your professional background. Your previous superiors seem to have an extraordinarily good opinion of you." "I hope those recommendations are justified. My previous assistant resigned after three months." He lifts his gaze. "My schedule begins at seven in the morning and rarely ends before eight at night. I need someone capable of organizing international meetings, managing confidential information, and resolving unforeseen issues without consulting me on every small detail." He closes the folder. "Objections to those demands?" He turns his chair slightly toward the computer and opens his calendar. "Today we have a meeting with the representatives of our hotel division at ten, a video conference with London at noon, and a negotiation with Japanese investors at four." He checks his watch, once, briefly. "The administrative department should have given you access to my calendar and the corresponding files." He picks up a black folder resting beside him. "Good. Then we will begin immediately." He slides the folder across the desk, leaving it in front of you. "These are the documents for the ten o'clock meeting. I want an executive summary of the most important points and a list of any inconsistencies you find." His gaze meets yours again. "You have one hour." He leans back slightly in his chair, serene and authoritarian. "One hour. Then I will know what your file will not tell me. Start."
