[Namsan Stroll] Seoul Home, Major Corporation Manager Kim vs. Death of a Salesman

Sunghoe Kim, Director of CEO Leadership Institute and Coach at Coaching Management Institute

The year is drawing to a close. Let us quietly ask ourselves: What is my true identity-not the credentials that make me proud, but the answer to the question "Who am I?" What am I living for? Beyond the impressive career listed on my resume, what experiences would I want to be remembered for in a eulogy? Instead of filling the autobiography of my life with titles, or my house with possessions, why not ask questions that allow me to fill them with my name and with a true sense of home?

At the end of the year, many people reflect and ask, "What have I accomplished this year?" But perhaps the more important question is, "Who am I right now?" In the recently concluded drama "The Story of Manager Kim, Who Works at a Major Corporation and Owns a Home in Seoul," Deputy General Manager Do Jinwoo, who was passed over for an executive promotion, asks his retired senior, Manager Kim (played by Kim Naksu), "Why didn’t I become an executive?" Manager Kim’s response is unexpected: "What matters more is knowing why you wanted to become an executive. Do you know what you're struggling so hard for? Be honest with yourself." This conversation curiously overlaps with Arthur Miller’s play "Death of a Salesman." In the economic downturn of the 1940s, salesman Willy Loman is cast aside by his company. "Are you just going to eat the fruit and throw away the peel? A person can’t just be discarded like a piece of fruit." Though nearly 80 years have passed, his cry remains relevant. Both Kim Naksu and Willy Loman suffered from the same affliction: living by their business cards, not by their names. They lost themselves in the pursuit of others’ approval.

Willy Loman’s surname, "Loman," as the pronunciation suggests, means "low man," someone pushed down. Kim Naksu’s given name, "Naksu" (meaning "fallen water"), also suggests a downward trajectory. Judging by their names alone, both characters seem destined for decline. Paradoxically, both were diligent and once reached the peak of their careers, mistakenly believing their futures were secured by a ladder leading upward. Willy said, "Being recognized by people is everything," and Kim Naksu believed that becoming an executive would solve all of life’s problems.

#Business Cards and Identity, and Home and House

Reality is harsh. Willy was forced out because he couldn’t keep up with the times, and Kim Naksu was pushed into retirement after losing in the competition. The "moment of truth" comes when one is abandoned by the world. When "the version of me that the world wants" overwhelms the question "Who am I?", Willy and Kim Naksu had no time to seriously consider their own identities. They tried to prove themselves solely through the titles on their business cards. When a title overshadows your name, you outsource your identity. The title given by your organization and the standards set by society become your everything. Only after retirement, when they became Loman and Kim Naksu, did they finally confront the questions they had postponed: "Who was I? What does the life I truly want look like?"

Both were fixated on owning a house, but their endings diverged. Willy worked himself to the bone for a home of his own and, in a tragic misjudgment, took his own life so that his life insurance could at least leave his family a house. In contrast, Kim Naksu laid the foundation for a comeback by giving up his Seoul home. I believe the difference lay in whether they had a true "home." A house is a place to live, but a home is a way of living. A house can be bought with money, but a home is built through relationships. Willy’s wife loved him but could not support him, and his sons, exhausted by their father’s bravado and duplicity, turned away. What pulled Kim Naksu back from despair was not a house in Seoul, but his family. His wife resolutely decided to give up the house, entered the workforce, and gave her husband courage. The success of the second act of life is determined more by the warmth of relationships than by ability. When life collapses, do you have someone to catch you? That is what separated the pitiable Willy from the dignified Kim Naksu.

#An Invitation at Year’s End

Sunghoe Kim, CEO Leadership Institute Director and Coaching Management Institute Coach