Lou’s new boss wasn’t really named Mr. Kimchi, but for me, it’s the perfect name for him.
He was Korean — and kimchi is a pretty common Korean dish that people either love or hate. There’s really no in-between with kimchi. I would bet you’d never find someone who is indifferent about kimchi. If you’ve never had it, then you know it’s a traditional Korean side dish that is made with fermented vegetables and incredibly potent seasonings.
Mr. Kimchi reminds me of this side dish because when Lou and I first met him, we instantly understood that people had very strong opinions about this man. There were people who adored him — and would follow him to the ends of the Earth — while other people had nothing but bad things to say about him.
But after everything Lou and I had been through, I think we were both willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. There were probably people who didn’t know our whole story who thought we were terrible people, too. (That makes me so sad, and very sorry, by the way.)
But Lou and I both wanted to give Mr. Kimchi a chance to show us who was going to be with us.
Right off the bat, Mr. Kimchi had been incredibly generous with our moving package, and every single thing he promised us he had done. So that was an excellent start, no doubt. But the very first time I sat across the desk from Mr. Kimchi, I remember spotting a beautifully bound copy of Sun Tzu’s “Art of War.” I read that book back in college for one of my business classes, and I learned that many people believe the book is a great resource for creating a powerful leadership strategy.
It had been awhile since I read the book, but it left a haunting impression of a ruthless, militant leadership style that seemed a little unrealistic to me. But I also knew that honor and a specific code of conduct governed disciples of this philosophy, and in some ways, it made me feel like Mr. Kimchi probably subscribed to very black and white set of life principles — which is much easier to follow than the messy tie-dyed swirl Steve and Hans seemed to prefer for running their company.
Mr. Kimchi was a small man with a wide face that seldom showed a readable emotion. But right from the start, Lou had a charming affect on Mr. Kimchi, and when Lou would drop one of his “Lou-isms,” a sudden bend in the lines of Mr. Kimchi’s face would precede a squeaky laugh. At first, Lou seemed to bring out the lighter side of Mr. Kimchi, and it was clear he liked Lou.
I remember Lou said “dude” a lot back then. Sometimes he’d say things like this to Mr. Kimchi: “Duuude! That’s exactly what I’m talking about bro-hammer!”
It wasn’t long before Mr. Kimchi was saying “duuude” and “bro-hammer” all the time, too! Those expressions sounded so funny coming out of his straight mouth, laced with such a heavy Korean accent. (But it always made all of us smile when Mr. Kimchi tried to sound like Lou.)
But Lou wasn’t just bringing out the best in Mr. Kimchi. He just seemed to embody this amazing balance of humility and confidence that made everyone we met instantly fall in love with him. He was very kind and patient with the small staff that Mr. Kimchi had on board, and Lou was also respectfully cautious to listen before he would add his suggestions or recommend any major changes. (Hans had beaten Lou down so much, and so this time, Lou was determined to set himself up for success from the very start.)
But in all of the ways that Lou was warm and personable, Mr. Kimchi was cold and calculating. Mr. Kimchi was all about numbers and the specific military movements he believed would help the company “win the battle.” So people got their emotional needs met by Lou, and their marching orders from Mr. Kimchi. In the beginning, it seemed like a great partnership to me.
But with hindsight, I fear I might have been applying my elementary school matching-making logic to Lou’s relationship with Mr. Kimchi:
“You say Lou likes peanut butter? And Mr. Kimchi likes jelly? That’s awesome news because when you put them together, they make a perfect sandwich! Yay for PB&J! PB&J FOREVER!!!”
Ugh.
In an email to my sister about our new life in California, I wrote about how perfect Mr. Kimchi and Lou were for each other. In fact, these exact words were archived in that email: “[Mr. Kimchi] is the most perfect partner Lou has ever had.”
