. The Baffling Bottleneck
The problem landed on Chairman Kim Taehyung's desk disguised as a logistics headache, but felt more like a corporate mystery. The Taewon Group's E-Commerce Fulfillment Division (EFD), a highly profitable, automated subsidiary, was suddenly suffering a persistent 15% drop in efficiency, directly correlated with a massive spike in employee complaints about "vague existential dread."
Taehyung's analysts had reviewed every algorithm and management structure. Everything was sound. The problem was human, but inexplicable.
"We cannot quantify dread, Chairman," the Logistics Chief, Mr. Park, reported miserably, wiping sweat from his brow. "The metrics are illogical. It's like their motivation has developed an immune response to efficiency reports."
Taehyung leaned forward, his expression severe. "Mr. Park, I need data, not philosophy. Show me the correlation. Where is the drop most severe?"
"Sir, it's uniform. Warehouse A, B, and C. The moment we introduced the new 'Optimized Rhythmic Flow,' the efficiency plummeted. Our reports say the process is better, but the staff morale is... nihilistic. They keep repeating, 'The package goes, but where is the soul?'"
Taehyung sighed, rubbing the faint mark on his forehead where he often received his "Vow Reinforcement Kisses." This was a job for the Dual Chairwoman.
"Prepare the security detail and call for Co-Chairwoman Ha-eun. Tell her it's a 'Crisis of Corporate Poetry.'"
II. The Poetic Audit
Taehyung escorted Co-Chairwoman Ha-eun to the EFD warehouse, a massive, sterile expanse of steel and conveyor belts. She wore a suit jacket over a dress covered in what she called "the Blue Manifesto of Existential Truths," and she carried her notebook.
The EFD Director, a stiff man named Director Lee, rushed to greet them. "Co-Chairwoman, Chairman. Welcome to the EFD. We have prepared an A/V presentation on the Rhythmic Flow optimization—"
Ha-eun held up a dismissive hand, interrupting him. She ignored the management team and the data screens. She stood silently in the middle of the automated noise, taking notes with a purple pen.
"Stop. Just stop talking about flow," Ha-eun announced, her voice precise yet cutting. "This entire space smells of suppressed limericks. And the color palette is a tragedy."
Director Lee stammered, his face blanching. "Ma'am, the palette is OSHA-approved institutional gray and off-white. It promotes focus."
"The color of failure," Ha-eun stated firmly. "Taehyung, the core business problem is not logistics; it is rhythmic dissonance. This place is an aesthetic prison."
Taehyung stepped closer to his wife, lowering his voice. "Ha-eun, with all due respect to the majesty of chaos, can we focus on the $20 million revenue loss? What is rhythmic dissonance in corporate terms?"
"It means," she explained, tapping her pen against the steel railing, "the rhythm is lying to them. Listen! Clack, zip, whir, pause. The employees are moving in a straight, predictable line, like a tragedy without a break. But the goods they handle are wildly varied—luxurious silks, cheap plastics, financial documents, snacks. The rhythm promises stability, but the objects demand chaos and humor."
Director Lee looked pleadingly at Taehyung. "Chairman, is she suggesting we change the speed of the conveyor belts based on the product's perceived emotional value?"
Taehyung sighed. "Just... let her conduct the audit, Director Lee. But try to look less existentially troubled. It's affecting the metrics."
Ha-eun then conducted her audit by interviewing employees, starting with a young man named Minho who was mechanically scanning boxes.
Ha-eun: "Employee Minho, tell me, what is your favorite texture?"
Minho (startled): "Ma'am? Uh, brushed aluminum? It's cool and predictable."
Ha-eun (writing furiously): "Predictable. Disaster. You see, Taehyung? His soul craves felt. Or maybe coarse linen. Next question: What would you paint the ceiling, if all of finance suddenly became a non-Euclidean space?"
Minho: "A giant smiling rubber chicken. To watch over us. I think."
Ha-eun (to Taehyung, victorious): "A rubber chicken! The antidote! Write that down, Director Lee! The antidote to algorithmic alienation is poultry-based existential whimsy!"
Director Lee nearly choked. "I… I can't put that on a quarterly report, Co-Chairwoman."
Ha-eun: "Then you are a coward, Director. Let us move on. I need to know the 'Emotional Yield' of the ergonomic seating."
She spent the next hour ignoring efficiency reports entirely, focusing on the employees' secret desires and favorite jokes. She discovered a deep, shared resentment for the "monotone clicking" of the scanning guns and a hidden office pool betting on which item would next fall off the belt.
Taehyung (whispering to Ha-eun): "Are we collecting actionable intelligence, or preparing a manifesto for the artistic revolution of Taewon?"
Ha-eun (whispering back): "The two are identical, my love. The revolution is the action. The manifesto is the intelligence."
III. The Solution: The Humor Stipend
Ha-eun returned to the office and presented her findings with the professional authority of the Chairwoman, but the solution was pure Poet. Taehyung, Mr. Park, and Director Lee sat rigidly across from her.
"The core of the 15% drop is simple: Motivational Saturation," she dictated, marking up a whiteboard with a giant blue arrow. "The employees feel like cogs. They need an aesthetic and lyrical break from the tyranny of the clock. We must weaponize joy."
Taehyung: "Weaponize joy. That's a powerful metaphor, Ha-eun. Can you translate that into a budget line item?"
Ha-eun (ignoring him and pointing to the whiteboard): "Ha-eun's Mandate, effective immediately:"
1. The Rhythmic Reset: "Immediately install speakers in the warehouse to play a randomized playlist of highly unconventional, chaotic music (Avant-garde jazz, sudden opera bursts, children's songs). Disrupt the false rhythm. The clock will lie, but the music will tell the beautiful, messy truth."
Director Lee (aghast): "Ma'am, the sound pollution will violate every productivity standard!"
Ha-eun: "Productivity standards failed! Embrace the noise! The soul sings loudest during sudden, confusing bursts of Vivaldi."
2. The Humor Stipend: "Every employee must be given a $50 monthly stipend specifically designated for the purchase of 'Aesthetic Desk Anomalies'—a small, fun item, irrelevant to work, to place on their station (e.g., a tiny gnome, a rubber chicken, a disco ball). Introduce necessary, unpredictable chaos."
Mr. Park: "A $50 stipend for toys? We have calculated the ROI on motivational posters—"
Ha-eun (her voice dropping into the cold, authoritative Chairwoman tone): "Mr. Park. A motivational poster tells the employee what to feel. A tiny gnome tells the employee that they are the authority on whimsy. Which is a better investment in psychological ownership? The stipend is non-negotiable."
3. The Color Correction: "All break rooms must be repainted in vibrant, conflicting colors (hot pink and neon green). Counteract the institutional dread. We are calling the new scheme 'Profit in Paradox.'"
Taehyung's analysts (Mr. Park and Director Lee) were horrified. "Chairman, this is illogical! This is absurd! We cannot justify a 'Humor Stipend' to the board!"
Taehyung leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "On the contrary, gentlemen. We can justify a 5% increase in efficiency. Ha-eun has identified the emotional loophole Seok-jin's systemic elegance ignored. The problem wasn't the system; it was the soul of the people operating it. It's a risk, but the cost of the stipend is far less than the cost of the dread."
Taehyung (meeting Ha-eun's eye): "Implement the plan immediately, and send me a full report on the employee acquisition of 'Aesthetic Desk Anomalies.' I want to know the market dominance of the rubber chicken versus the garden gnome."
IV. The Final Approval and The Ongoing Conflict
Within two weeks, the EFD's efficiency not only recovered the 15% loss but gained an additional 5%. The unexpected joy of the chaos (the sudden opera bursts) and the personal item on the desk (a proliferation of small dinosaurs and one very large, smiling rubber chicken) had destroyed the "vague existential dread."
"See, Taehyung?" Ha-eun said, placing a freshly painted miniature CEO on his desk (this one was blue and wearing a tiny crown). "Logic is the tragedy of finance. Only absurd poetry can save the balance sheet."
Taehyung: "I am deeply impressed. The EFD is setting new records. You have proved that I am marrying a genius, Co-Chairwoman."
Ha-eun: "I am aware. Now about the other matter. I painted your desk again."
Taehyung (looking down at the new streak of blue paint across his custom ergonomic surface): "Ha-eun! The Affection Clause specifically states that paint breaches are limited to non-essential, decorative surfaces! This is a core asset!"
Ha-eun (nonchalantly): "But the desk was still too logical. It was affecting the purity of your strategic thoughts. Now it inspires deep, critical thinking! And I put a tiny miniature CEO in the paint, so you always know he is struggling."
Taehyung looked at the mess. He had married chaos, intelligence, and love.
"You realize," he said, walking toward her, "that our Affection Clause permits me to demand a kiss in exchange for tolerating gross breaches of interior design contracts."
Ha-eun laughed, a clear, happy sound that contained no shadow of the past. "Agreed. But first, you must admit that blue is the only honest color in finance."
Taehyung leaned in, accepting his fate and his love. "It is the only honest color, Co-Chairwoman. Now, come here."