63. Retirement

In the mid-2000s, the company, State Fund, began a massive consolidation and merger process. There were about 20 regional offices across the state of California. Each regional office housed both a claims department and a sales department. In a major metropolitan area like Los Angeles, five different regional offices were actively competing against one another. This setup led to a redundancy of work, and in the case of the sales department, inconsistent insurance premium pricing caused confusion and inconvenience for consumers. Consequently, the regional offices were shut down and consolidated by operational function.

The State Compensation Insurance Fund (State Fund) is a state agency. However, it operates independently of the state budget because it is funded by premiums collected from insured businesses rather than taxpayer money. Reflecting this independence, the head of the organization is called the "president” rather than a "director," which is the title used in other state departments. Eventually, the leadership team became so self-assertive that they began to disregard the Insurance Commissioner, which ultimately triggered an audit. The management was thoroughly overhauled due to issues regarding loose operations and employee welfare benefits that were disproportionate compared to other state departments.

Coincidentally, this aligned with the time the Baby Boomer generation was reaching retirement age, allowing the company to reduce its headcount naturally through attrition without resorting to forced early retirements. Some managers and supervisors lost their positions and were reassigned to various projects. These administrative employees were highly reluctant to be sent to projects, fearing that stepping down from their usual managerial roles might make them targets for early retirement. Left with no choice, the company resorted to drafting personnel based on seniority.

The regional office managers, who had ruled like kings over their independent offices, struggled to adapt to these sudden changes. Most of them chose to retire as the regional offices closed. Meanwhile, many others seized opportunities for promotion. I, too, found myself reporting to a new manager.

Whenever leadership changes to the top, it is bound to be difficult for that underneath. First, you have to familiarize yourself with the new boss and figure out their preferences. This is because, depending on the individual, one person might prefer Method A for a given task, while another insists on Method B. There is always a learning curve before a newly appointed person becomes accustomed to the job. After that, driven by a desire to repay the superiors who promoted them, they often become overly ambitious to outperform their predecessors. They try to aggressively boost performance metrics, which naturally take a toll on their subordinates.

I went through this exact process myself after becoming a manager. I was confident that if given the chance to manage the claims department, I could do it better than anyone else. There were four or five managers in the consolidated LA regional claims department, and my ambition to outperform the senior managers got the best of me.

Sometime later, someone sent an anonymous grievance letter to the Vice President of the LA region. When the Vice President called me up to her office, she showed me a letter. It alleged that I was having an inappropriate relationship with a Korean female employee whom I had hired and worked with during my days as a supervisor, and that I had used my position as a manager to appoint her as a rehabilitation consultant. I couldn't help but laugh. She was around the same age as my eldest son, Se-il, and her mother was an avid reader of the column I was publishing in the newspaper. Furthermore, her appointment as a rehabilitation consultant was not my choice at all; it was entirely the decision of her supervisor. The matter was put to rest once I provided the explanation.

With four or five managers and a staff of over 200 people, the department requires a Manager II position. A white male named Keith, who enjoyed the Vice President’s trust, received the promotion. It was an outcome everyone had anticipated. Not long after, the Vice President announced her retirement, and when Keith stepped up to fill that vacancy, the Manager II position opened up once again. This time, I had high expectations. Unexpectedly, however, the promotion went to Bob, a white male who had previously been pushed aside by senior staff and was working on project assignments. I felt immense disappointment at the time, facing what felt like the limitations placed on Asian men. When Keith eventually retired, Bob became the Vice President.

Bob exhibited the impatience typical of the new manager I mentioned earlier. He tried to execute whatever the higher-ups wanted without question. Personally, I believe a "yes-man" should never hold a managerial position. A manager must be able to deliver uncomfortable truths and say "no" when something is unfeasible. Ultimately, a female manager named Rosemary ended up resigning from the company. Upon her departure, she made it explicitly clear that she was leaving because of Bob.

Bob and I had been close friends since our days as supervisors. Even though I had lost the race for promotion to him, I genuinely wished him success. After all, his success would mean that I was doing my job well, too. Sometime later, he promoted me to Manager II. However, having already experienced those systemic limitations, I was already contemplating changing careers.
My brother, who was working in the financial sector, had been asking me for some time to come work at their company. I had been putting it off, saying I would consider it once I reached the age to receive my retirement pension. Coincidentally, my brother ventured into the insurance business and approached me with the request once more. That was how, at the age of 58, I left the State Fund, where I had dedicated 31 years of my life.

On the day I resolved to join my brother’s company, I walked up to Bob's office to hand in my resignation. Walking out, I felt an exhilarating rush. I thought to myself, "Ah, so this is why people throw down their resignation letters."

About a year after moving to my brother’s company, I heard that Bob had left the organization and transferred to another state department. For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed my mind that if I had just endured it and stayed, I might have become the Vice President myself.