Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 156: Analyzing Other Departments' Work (2)

The drama ‘In My Office’ was a typical romance set in an asset management firm.
It was about a love story between a new team leader who came to a Korean company after working on Wall Street for unknown reasons, and an assistant manager who had an uncanny ability to pick out profitable funds, navigating the ups and downs of the market… but.
‘Does this even make sense?’
Crap, I was already hitting a roadblock just from trying to understand the script before the audition.
‘They keep mixing up securities firms and asset management companies, is that okay?’
‘Is it possible for people who invest to not even consider financial stability?’
Even though my college grades were abysmal, I could still spot the inconsistencies at a glance.
In this day and age, where even work experts upload drama review videos, how do they plan to deal with the backlash?
But there was a bigger problem.
‘How do they even fall in love with the team leader?’
I couldn’t understand the emotional trajectory of the main characters at all.
Sure, workplace romance happens. But is it that easy?
The male lead spoke rudely, lacked social skills, and lived with a superiority complex—a triple combo. I couldn’t understand how the female lead fell for the male lead.
The only saving grace was that the character I was auditioning for was an ordinary office worker, neither romantically involved with a colleague nor possessing any genius abilities.  At least I wouldn’t have to run out of the audition room shouting, ‘I can’t act this nonsense!’.
The audition assignment consisted of two main parts: script acting and character analysis.
The script wasn’t too long, so I memorized it quickly. That left me extra time to focus on character analysis.
‘Name: Do Younghwan, 28 years old, an easygoing character who pops up unexpectedly, says what needs to be said, and disappears, like a comic relief character…’
I diligently scribbled with my pen, imagining what kind of person Do Younghwan would be.
A bit younger than me, still at the junior employee level, and a quiet worker who kept to himself.
* * *
“So, I heard Iwol decided to audition?”
Right after the meeting ended, Min Jukyung took advantage of the remaining time in the meeting room to ask the CEO.
“He did. He accepted on the spot.”
“Isn’t that a bit too much for him?”
“Well, the audition isn’t right away.”
Then, Yoon Hyunjoo added,
“We should probably keep him from doing anything physically demanding for a while. The management team knows this, but Iwol never hits the brakes.”
“That’s true…”
“If we don’t give him something to do, he’ll just find work anyway. Iwol hasn’t been coming to the practice room lately, has he?”
“No, I heard he’s only been attending acting classes.”
“Good. Let’s have him take a break from dancing and company work for now. Tell Mr. Chanyoung to keep an eye on the members’ sleep schedules.”
The management team staff recorded Yoon Hyunjoo’s instructions.
Watching them, Yoon Hyunjoo recalled Jeong Seongbin, who had recently requested a meeting with him.
UA had to undergo many changes after the major incident. It wasn’t a smooth process, but even being able to complain was a luxury.
In times like these, Spark generally stepped back quietly and did their part.
They were the kind of kids who didn’t need much supervision—something Yoon Hyunjoo himself often said out loud.
So for someone like Jeong Sungbin, the most polite among them, to request a meeting? That wasn’t normal.
Although he had done a solo performance, Jeong Seongbin was someone who prioritized the well-being of those around him over his own opportunities.
Without hesitation, Yoon Hyunjoo told them to send him in immediately.
And not long after, he found himself sitting across their in-house artist, whose atmosphere had subtly changed, sharing a cup of tea.
After exchanging a few greetings, silence fell over the office.
Jeong Seongbin probably came because of the work treatment improvement issue.
Usually, Kim Iwol would take the lead, but since he was in his current state, Jeong Seongbin must have come instead.
Yoon Hyunjoo had planned to talk to all of Spark members about this issue at some point.
So, he had a prepared response in mind, but…….
‘CEO.’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘How do you increase self-esteem?’
Jeong Seongbin brought up a topic outside of Yoon Hyunjoo’s expectations.
‘Self-esteem?’
Yoon Hyunjoo echoed thoughtfully. He had often told the staff to instill confidence in the members during training and evaluations, but he hadn’t thought deeply about self-esteem.
Was it a mistake to make him the leader when there were clearly older members?
Or did he feel responsible for what had happened with Yoo Hansoo?
Flustered, Yoon Hyunjoo asked what was wrong. Jeong Seongbin pressed his lips together once, then hesitantly began to speak.
And then, another unexpected name popped up.
‘It’s about Iwol hyung. From our perspective, he’s an amazing and reliable member, but he doesn’t seem to think of himself that way at all.’
‘Iwol?’
The Kim Iwol Yoon Hyunjoo knew was always confident in what he did.
He always spoke with conviction and was mature enough not to be easily swayed by external factors.
However, recalling the atrocities committed by Yoo Hansoo that Kim Iwol had compiled, Jeong Seongbin’s words weren’t entirely incomprehensible.
How many people could remain unaffected after months of verbal and physical abuse?  Especially when they didn’t even have a proper family to confide in.
‘He takes really good care of us. We always feel like he’s looking out for us, not just professionally but emotionally too.’
Jeong Seongbin spoke calmly.
‘We want to help him just as much… but we don’t know how. Maybe it’s because we’re not yet reliable enough for him to lean on.’
‘He’s not someone who expresses his struggles easily. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.’
There was no way Kim Iwol would lean on his younger group members. He didn’t even talk about his hardships to company staff who were much older.
“So, I’ve been thinking…”
Jeong Seongbin carefully laid out his suggestions, showing signs of deep contemplation.
‘Although the company is making efforts, I hope hyung will have less involvement in administrative tasks in the future.’
‘Could we find something he could enjoy or showcase his abilities in?’
‘Hyung always says there’s no room for praise in the real world, but… when he does well, I want to make sure he gets the recognition he deserves. He does seem to pay attention when professionals acknowledge his work.’
Jeong Seongbin spoke fluently. However, his fists, resting on his knees, trembled slightly.
He wasn’t making rational suggestions like Kim Iwol would. From a business standpoint, the company had no real reason or obligation to grant this request.
Nevertheless, Jeong Seongbin was doing his best to convey his thoughts. Carefully, but as clearly as possible.
‘Is this the whole team’s opinion?’
When Yoon Hyunjoo asked, Jeong Seongbin nodded vigorously.
‘Alright. Since it’s the leader’s first suggestion, I’ll take steps to reflect it as soon as possible.’
‘…Thank you!’
Jeong Seongbin’s eyes shone.
A light Yoon Hyunjoo thought he had lost for a while during his long trainee period.
‘How admirable.’
Yoon Hyunjoo murmured, looking at the office door Jeong Seongbin had left through.
He felt a lump in his throat, the same feeling he had when he saw Jeong Seongbin’s ‘Gender-Swap’ stage.
After that meeting, Yoon Hyunjoo started to pay closer attention to Kim Iwol.
The acting offer could have been rejected by the company. Still, he tried to bring in various opportunities for him to experience if he wanted to.
And Kim Iwol carefully examined those opportunities. He had no greed, yet he readily accepted any task given to him, which was heartbreaking to see.
‘Because he’s so competent, everyone just thought about giving him more work.’
Reflecting on this, Yoon Hyunjoo let out a long sigh.
When Kim Iwol decided to audition right then and there, Yoon Hyunjoo called the Spark management team, whose department name was still undecided, and issued a strict directive.
‘Forget carrots and sticks
[1]
‘Carrots and sticks’ here means reward and punishment, respectively. . It’s all carrots from now on. Got it?’
‘We’ll turn the office into a carrot farm.’
It wouldn’t do to have their idol, who deserved nothing but praise, struggling with low self-esteem.
Even if Kim Iwol failed the audition, at least the UA staff would support his new challenge.
Yoon Hyunjoo made a firm resolution. Then, looking at the still-reorganizing organizational chart, he diligently worked his pen.
* * *
The audition was held in a shared office space with meeting rooms.
“Iwol, don’t be nervous and do your best! You can do it! Okay?”
My manager’s encouragement was so enthusiastic to the point of being burdensome.
Is this audition really that important? If I fail here, will UA go bankrupt or something?
Good thing I decided to come in semi-formal attire just in case. Even if I didn’t get the role, at least they’d acknowledge my effort. I was probably the one who looked the most like an actual office worker here.
Wearing business attire after so long felt suffocating, but other than the feeling that I should be heading to work right now, everything was fine.
Thanks to reading the script during breaks, I had even memorized other people’s lines. I really gave it my all. At the very least, I had the right to say I fought well, even if I lost.
As I entered the office, lost in thought, a person who appeared to be the writer guided me through the details.
I moistened my throat with the water I brought, and soon my turn came.
After knocking and receiving permission to enter, I opened the door to see three judges sitting inside.
“Hello, I’m Spark’s Iwol!”
“Yes, nice to meet you.”
The person sitting in the middle responded.
‘Sit down only when given permission, keep a gentle smile on your face…’
The interview etiquette I memorized for my first job interview came to mind. Even though it had become second nature by now, every single word remained vivid in my memory.
Not long ago, I had been the one sitting in the interviewer’s seat. Now, it felt like something from a distant past.
However, my interview knowledge became useless just three minutes after the audition began.
“If you were born in XX, how old are you?”
“Twenty-one years old!”
“Twenty-one? You’re very young. Wouldn’t it be difficult to portray an office worker?”
“Still, you have the presence because of your height. How tall are you, Iwol?”
“183cm.”
“183cm? Without insoles?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
In a job interview, all these questions would be able offenses.
In an era where blind recruitment was becoming the norm, they were asking about my age and height? I used to think casting in the entertainment industry and hiring in companies weren’t so different, but now I could feel the contrast firsthand.
“The visuals are perfect, but he’s too young.”
“Hey, honestly, based on visuals alone, he’s lead actor material.”
“That’s just because there aren’t many handsome guys among 20-year-olds these days.”
The writer, director, and producer engaged in a heated discussion about the extinction of handsome male actors in their 20s, right in front of me.
Even if I wasn’t deeply connected to the acting world, wasn’t this a bit too much like being a discarded kite left drifting in the wind?
Still, I kept smiling brightly until they finished their conversation, and they all seemed to realize their mistake and turned their attention back to me.
“You’ve been briefed on the audition process, right? Script reading and character analysis.”
“Yes, I’ve been informed.”
“Then let’s start with the character analysis. Just freely explain what kind of person you think Do Younghwan is.”
Here it comes.
Time to showcase my presentation skills, which have somehow improved since becoming an idol.
1. ‘Carrots and sticks’ here means reward and punishment, respectively.