Chapter 2: Excess Baggage

The first sign that things wouldn't go my way was the loud beeping noise that came as I swiped my employee ID against the sensor on the turnstile, followed by the most annoying robotic female voice ever conceived by computer-kind.

"Access denied. Please contact the Human Resources Department."

Everyone at the entrance literally stopped and turned to look. I smiled at them and excused myself. I walked toward the reception area and noticed how everyone was giggling over their Samsong smartphones. I guessed there was another funny clip that had gone viral and had been posted on our employee e-boards.

The receptionists were busy entertaining a few people, most probably representatives from different suppliers wishing to get a cut of the ginormous money-making pie that was Samsong Group. I decided to wait for them to thin out and hung around the lounge instead.

The lounge of Samsong Holdings, which is basically Samsong Group's HQ, is dotted with several comfortable couches and coffee tables with different magazines neatly stacked on top of them. There's also a full-sized snack bar serving pastries, coffee, tea, and other beverages, which were all for free for employees and their guests.

I sat on one of the chairs nearest the reception desk and flipped through a couple of the magazines. However, I couldn't concentrate on the content because my mind kept reeling back to that shitty exchange I had with our CEO. I don't even know if I can call that an exchange—I was too stunned and embarrassed at having been seen kissing another guy to say anything other than "Huh?"

I was really worried, though. I mean, our CEO had said I should enjoy my stay in the Philippines forever. He couldn't have fired me for kissing a guy. I wasn't out in the open and I acted discreet in the office, and being gay is not enough reason to be terminated, right?

Maybe he was planning to have me transferred to Samsong Philippines. My direct boss had mentioned it that one time. He had told me that the board had considered me for the Country Director position but had ultimately decided against it due to my age. That was definitely it.

Like a ray of hope, a magazine with my face on it caught my eye. The caption read, 'BJ Alvarez, Breaking World Records in Mergers and Acquisitions."

It was an internal publication some five or six years ago, after I got transferred to the Overseas Investments Department. I was able to close a multibillion dollar deal with an American company that paved the way for Samsong Group to enter the lucrative fast moving consumer goods market in North America.

It was sensational because it was the biggest acquisition in history done by an Asian company, not to mention the fact that the deal boosted Samsong Group's revenues by 27 percent and profits by 18. Plus, it was handled by a rookie, and a foreigner at that!

Rereading the article about me made me feel good about myself. Surely, with that kind of contribution to the company, I wasn't going to be fired over some tongue action!

A few minutes must have passed because when I looked up, all three receptionists were chuckling over their smartphones just like everyone else earlier. I approached them and coughed to get their attention. They immediately stopped laughing and turned visibly red when they saw me.

"Hi," I said. "I was wondering if you can patch me over to HR? My ID doesn't seem to be working."

The three exchanged nervous looks, obviously unsure of what to do. Were they new hires? I never had any reason to visit the reception area before, so I didn't really know the people there, but it certainly looked like they didn't know what they were doing.

"My name is BJ. I'm a manager under Director Yang at the Overseas Investments Department. I think I may have damaged the chip in my ID. Or it must be the cold—"

"Good morning, Bee-Kwajangnim," she said, calling me by my title. "Aren't you on leave until the end of February?"

"Yes, yes, I am. I had to cut it short, though. A few issues came up," I replied, but as I did, I was wondering how she knew about my vacation schedule.

The three exchanged anxious glances yet again. They were starting to get on my nerves. Don't get me wrong: I have nothing against women. In fact, it was our company, not me, that had an open vendetta against women. There were practically no female employees there, except for receptionists, secretaries, and custodians.

"I see," she answered, then dialed a number on her desk phone. A few moments later, she spoke into her headset. "Yes, sir. He is here, sir."

She kept nodding throughout the phone call, which was stupid, in my opinion, because the person on the other line couldn't see her anyway. Still, I kept my mouth shut. All I wanted was to get to my office and work in peace.

"Bee Kwajangnim," she said. "Director Yang will be with you shortly. Please have a seat."

"Yang? As in Director Yang, my boss? From Overseas Investments?" I asked. "Not someone from HR?"

The receptionists looked at each other instead of answering me. The whole thing was getting more and more annoying. And, to be frank, I was also getting more and more afraid of what was to come.

The same lady answered me. "Yes, sir. Director Yang also instructed me to inform you to stop asking questions and to just wait for him quietly."

She was blushing as she said it, but that was nothing compared to the redness of my cheeks. It was infuriating and embarrassing to be told off like that!

Being the professional biatch that I was, I did as I was told, sat back down, and waited. It didn't take long for Mr. Yang to arrive at the reception area. I stood up and bowed at the customary 90 degrees. He was three levels higher than me, after all.

"Jae Yi," he said, tapping my shoulder.

Koreans are used to three-syllable names, like Lee Min Ho, for example. The first syllable is the person's family name, while the next two are their given names. Apparently, the name BJ counts as three syllables in Korea: Bee, Jae, and Yi. That's why everyone calls me either Jae Yi or Manager Bee. Formally, I'm still referred to as Mr. Alvarez or Manager Alvarez.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Yang said. "You're being let go."

I didn't answer. Or more accurately, I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried to think of one, I couldn't come up with an appropriate response to my superior's statement.

"I'm sure you know why," Mr. Yang continued while handing me his smartphone. It was paused on a video clip. I pressed play and—holy mother of all things holy, someone stop me from murdering our asshole of a CEO! It was a video of me and JM kissing torridly. He must have had someone bribe the security team of the bar to get the CCTV footage.

"It's all over the employee message boards, posted by the CEO himself," Mr. Yang revealed. " I'm sure by now every single person in this building has already seen it. And look at the video description. The CEO said he himself saw what happened."

I was too angry to cry, but I had to say something. If I didn't, I was going to explode.

Mr. Yang's voice remained steady. "That was the main agenda of our division meeting yesterday, and this is the decision we came up with. Your severance package will be wired to your chosen bank account. You have three days of access to your email and company account to download personal files from the server. After that, sorry, but everything will be purged."

I was still staring at my shoes, and I don't know how many minutes had passed since we started that hell of a conversation.

"I think you know the company files are encrypted and inaccessible from outside. There's no point in downloading them. Should I have Minsu and Gunho bring down your things?"

"So this is it, right?" I finally found the courage to speak up. "All those years of success, and this is what I get?"

Mr. Yang didn't reply.

"I've outperformed everyone else in your team. I single-handedly made this company earn billions more in revenues. I made history. And you're telling me none of that matters because I'm gay?"

"Please don't use that word here," Mr. Yang said calmly.

"What makes me liking dicks have anything to do with my work?" I shouted. "What does me getting fucked by men have anything to do with my job performance?"

"JAE YI!" Mr. Yang yelled over my voice. "Don't be naïve!"

I stared back at him, unwilling to give in to the tears that were threatening to fall.

"You're right. Your sexual preference has nothing to do with your performance," Mr. Yang started. "But your performance is not an assurance for lifetime employment, either.

"You've been paid handsomely for all your efforts and services since the day you started working here. Your salary is more than triple of anyone your age working in other companies in Asia. This is what the company owes you for everything you've done—nothing more, nothing less."

I didn't know how to answer that.

"You received twenty-four months of salary instead of the usual twelve. Your benefits were incomparable to any other company in the world, even Google."

It was harsh, but he was right.

"So please don't be naïve to think that the company owes you anything."

The truth was a knife that cut deep and refused to budge.

"Minsu, please come down and bring over Jae Yi's things with Gunho," I heard Mr. Yang say on the phone after several minutes of silence.

There was nothing more to talk about. There was simply no way someone like me could fight a giant like Samsong Group. I could sue them, but there was no doubt that the Korean courts would rule in favor of Samsong.

I excused myself and headed for the restroom to wash my eyes and reduce their redness. As I opened the door, however, I found myself face to face with Cho Hanbi, a junior from my previous department.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you belong here," he said, effectively blocking my way in. The asshole then pointed to the women's washroom.

Motherfucking god, there was no escaping bigoted idiots in that place.

I didn't want to cause a scene, so I headed toward the opposite restroom. It was seldom used, anyway, due to the miniscule number of women in the company. Inside, I let the tears out and hastily washed my face.

When I came out, Mr. Yang was waiting for me, with Minsu and Gunho each carrying a box of my office stuff.

"It was a pleasure working with you, Jae YI," Mr. Yang said. "I mean it. I don't really care about your personal life, but there's nothing I can do. Orders from above." I nodded and shook his hand. "Please escort him to his car," he said, instructing the two.

Minsu and Gunho helped me load my stuff into the trunk and waited for me to close it before they spoke.

"I'm sorry, Jae Yi," Minsu said, taking me in his arms for a tight hug.

"Yeah, Jae Yi. I'm really sorry, too," Gunho said, hugging me next.

"Hyung, I'm sorry I betrayed the both of you," I told them, guilty of being touchy-feely with them for the past eight years while hiding the fact that I was gay.

"What the hell are you sorry for? It's not your fault," Gunho said, taking me back for another hug. "I would have kept it a secret, too, if I were in your shoes."

"Yeah," Minsu added. "And besides, who are we to give a fuck about whom you sleep with?"

There's hope for the minority in Korea because of people like Minsu and Gunho. I just wish the rest of Kimchilandia follows suit because they're definitely missing a lot of talent by discriminating against women and homosexuals.

I hugged them again before promising to keep in touch and with them assuring me that I'm bound to get better offers because of my talent.

God, they couldn't be more wrong. They had underestimated Samsong's influence and power. All the other companies that had tried to recruit me in the past—LJ Electronics, Hyunbae Industries, and Daewon Group—apologized and said I did not meet their requirements. Even those in the banking industry went with the same script.

They chased me and tried to beat Samsong's compensation package for years, and then all of a sudden I wasn't good enough for them?

Fuck Samsong. Fuck Korea. I didn't need either of them.

I decided to go back home.

For good.