The Folded Timesheet

Oh Jiseok folded and unfolded the attendance sheet three times in front of the bulletin board.

At six in the morning, only half the fluorescent lights in the production building were on. The customer deposits that had come in overnight were locked in the restricted account, and Taegyeong's sheet had a minimum headcount of eighteen colored in blue. In Jiseok's hand was a shift roster with fifteen names on it.

"Kim Munseop isn't coming. He said yesterday he can't do nights because of his back."

Taegyeong looked up. "Replacement?"

"Park Junho doesn't have press certification, and Lee Seonwoo is on his third straight day. If we put him on, he might make it through today, but tomorrow there's an accident."

Jiseok tapped the blank space with his fingernail. On Taegyeong's sheet there was one number. On Jiseok's sheet there were three people's reasons, their qualifications, their last clock out time. Neither side was lying. It was just that one was counting people in bulk, and the other was counting the time a person could endure.

"You calculated it at eighteen." Taegyeong said.

"The calculation isn't wrong. Names are missing."

Jiseok walked over to line 2. A red stop tag hung in front of the power panel. He wrote the workers' names on the back of the tag. Kim Munseop, Park Junho, Lee Seonwoo. Then he wrote, "Non substitutable process: jig replacement."

Taegyeong followed him. The machine was stopped, but the smell of metal and oil still hung in the air. The jig on line 2 had been made and delivered by Yunseong Precision. The same part number was stamped on the corner of the drawing copy Donghu had handed over the day before.

"If we pull this, can we shift some of it to line 1?"

"Half." Jiseok answered. "Moving the jig takes people and time too. We can't do the full amount."

"Then I'll have to tell the customer."

Jiseok hadn't expected those words to come out that fast. Usually people asked again about the target number first, or asked who could stay longer. He looked at Taegyeong's face for a moment.

"It's not over just because you tell them. If you lower the quantity, some of the deposit has to go back."

"I know."

"Wages go down too."

"So I'll calculate by your sheet."

Instead of answering, Jiseok flipped the switch on line 2. When the sound died, the motor noise from the other line came through clearer. What had stopped was one line's output. What had survived was not a forced night shift.

At eight in the morning, the production management screen showed Manager Park Seongwoo from the customer's purchasing team. Behind him, the conference room glass was visible. Manager Park was flipping through a document when his hand stopped at the quantity column.

"This isn't the volume we contracted for yesterday."

"That's right." Taegyeong said. "The night shift is out, and we won't push the equipment past its limits."

"That's your company's problem."

Jiseok stood beside the screen holding a sheet of paper. When Taegyeong glanced at him, he spoke.

"Line 1 can do two hundred essential units today, one hundred fifty tomorrow. Line 2 is stopped. If we force it, we can't guarantee quality."

Manager Park's expression hardened. "If you cut it that much, our assembly schedule falls apart too."

"That's why we're giving you a choice." Taegyeong turned the screen. "You can take only the essential items and get the rest of the deposit back today, or cancel the full order. We won't make a promise on the full amount and then fail to keep it."

Through the screen came the sound of someone opening and closing a door outside the conference room. Manager Park muted his mic for a moment and spoke in a low voice with someone else. In that gap, Jiseok looked at his own sheet again. The blank space hadn't disappeared. Instead, next to each name on line 1 was that person's start time.

Manager Park came back.

"We'll take the essential items only. In exchange, let's rewrite the delivery date and inspection standards. We want the remaining balance of the deposit back."

"I'll send the revised terms sheet by end of day." Taegyeong answered.

"And don't confirm next week's volume."

"I won't."

When the call ended, Taegyeong erased the promised output column. Before entering the new number, he pushed the keyboard toward Jiseok.

Jiseok looked at the blank space left in the middle of the screen, then opened the window facing the production floor. A thin scent of welding drifted in with the breeze. Below, Choi Eunsuk was putting on her gloves and talking to someone. She'd said she could only work days today, and that fact had gone into Taegyeong's first sheet as nothing more than a "1."

"Eunsuk has to leave before four." Jiseok said. "She has to pick up her kid. After that, Kwon Minho takes over inspection. Minho can't do packing."

Taegyeong didn't turn off the calculator. "That order pushes back the shipping load time."

"Then shipping has to change its time too. Don't fit people to the schedule. Today, fit the schedule to the people."

As soon as he said it, Jiseok realized his words had come out too absolute. On the floor, pushing things through like that worked, but the delivery driver and the customer's warehouse had their own schedules too. He pointed at the screen again.

"No, that's not just for me to decide. Check the last possible loading time. If we can't make it within that, I'll cut the quantity one more time."

Taegyeong immediately called the logistics contact. While waiting to connect, Jiseok didn't erase Choi Eunsuk's name from the shift roster. Instead he wrote "16:00 clock out" beside it. A moment later Taegyeong covered the receiver.

"Loading by five thirty. The shipping company can only send one truck."

"Then the packed quantity is less than one fifty."

"How much?"

Jiseok recalculated the stopped line and the inspection process. The number that came out cut at his pride. He didn't hesitate for long.

"One thirty."

Taegyeong sent another email to the customer. Revising a number he'd already lowered once felt uncomfortable. The reply came ten minutes later. One hundred thirty essential units, loading at five thirty in the afternoon, deposit refund on the rest. The customer hadn't written a friendly sentence. But they'd put an electronic signature on the revised terms sheet.

Only when he saw that signature did Jiseok let out a breath. Lowering the target didn't mean nothing happened. One truck's worth of shipping cost remained, and one bundle of raw material stayed in the warehouse. Whose wages that leftover money would go toward, whose outstanding invoice would keep waiting, that was still all inside the sheet. But at least one reason for someone to get hurt at the factory today had been removed.

"Enter the floor quantity yourself."

Jiseok didn't move his hand right away. "If I enter it, I take responsibility for it."

"So enter it."

He typed in two hundred and one fifty, and below it wrote, "Line 2 stopped. Night shift refusal reflected." Taegyeong signed beside it as the funds approval authority. The two signatures weren't in the same box. One recorded what could be made. The other recorded what money could be spent for.

By afternoon, the restricted account balance sheet opened again. After the partial refund, what remained was thinner than expected. Raw material costs, shipping fees, wages for today's confirmed shift. At the bottom of the screen, Yunseong Precision's outstanding balance stayed in red.

Lee Sanghun took off his glasses at the banking screen. "By regulation, we can only process a reservation for payment. Tomorrow morning, the actual attendance list has to match the account holder names."

"Can't we put in the people who came in today first?" Jiseok asked.

"Confirmed workers, standby compensation cases, and refusers have to be separated." Lee Sanghun counted off on his fingers. "First, those confirmed for today's shift. Second, those who stood by on the company's instruction. Third, those who refused work or aren't confirmed yet. If the three lists get mixed, the whole payment stops."

Jiseok pulled his chair forward abruptly. "Are you saying we withhold wages just because someone refused?"

"No. I'm saying we separate the reason for payment. If a refuser already has earned wages or standby compensation, we enter it on that basis. If we write in a shift that never happened, no one gets paid tomorrow."

Jiseok's hand stopped. He looked at the name at the top of the paper list, Kim Munseop. He'd refused the night shift, but the day before, after finishing maintenance, he'd received a standby order, and that time existed.

"Then we enter Munseop under standby compensation. I'll have him confirm it himself."

Taegyeong nodded. "No one else goes in without their own confirmation either."

Jiseok split the list into three branches. For the ones who moved fast, he'd wanted to just write "worked," but today he wrote the reason too. Start time, standby order time, confirmation signature. The longer each line got, the smaller the number became. But he could now say exactly who could dispute that number.

Taegyeong read the final request form. "Executive bonus items stay on hold. Yunseong Precision's outstanding balance stays on hold too. Only apply for essential raw materials and confirmed or standby wages."

When that was said, Jiseok looked up.

"Who explains it to the floor?"

"I will."

"No." Jiseok didn't fold up the list. "Today I explained it to the workers myself. For Yunseong Precision, you need to tell my father directly. What's missing from your sheet isn't my name, and it isn't their money either."

Taegyeong looked at the red item for a moment. "You're right. I'll tell him."

Lee Sanghun checked the approval line. "Payment is reserved for nine tomorrow morning. If the list changes, notify us immediately. Verbal corrections won't be accepted."

"I'll send it by text." Jiseok said. "With a confirmation reply attached."

He went back to the bulletin board and posted a new sheet. "Today's shift confirmed," "Standby compensation confirmed," "Tomorrow's payment reserved." The workers looked for their names in front of the paper. Some complained that the quantity had been cut. Some sighed with relief that they didn't have to work through the night. Jiseok didn't try to soothe either side. He read out the changed shift and payment standards line by line.

Taegyeong's phone rang. It was Yun Donghu.

"I hear wages go out tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Then what about my invoice?"

Taegyeong looked at the names on the bulletin board. "It stays as it is. I won't cover it with the customer's money."

For a moment, only breathing could be heard.

"Since you said that yourself," Donghu said, "tomorrow I decide whether the factory doors open."

The call cut off short. Taegyeong lowered the phone. At the very bottom of the bulletin board, below the last line of the payment reservation sheet, Yunseong Precision's unpaid item stayed red.