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A Fiscal Lesson for the Ages
Stephen Choi, 46, and wife Leena, 44, in their Potomac home. Stephen lost a lucrative business, and had to begin again.
(By N.c. Aizenman -- The Washington Post)
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That's when the second cataclysm of Choi's life hit: a banking crisis that sent the economies of Asia into freefall. In three days, South Korea's currency lost more than half its value. Overnight, Choi's business became worthless.
"Every single thought goes through your mind," Choi said. "It was like I had the devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other: 'Maybe I should commit suicide.' 'No, you have your family to think of.' 'Should I sell a kidney to pay back the customers?' 'Don't worry, you've got nowhere to go but up.' "
Weeks before the financial crisis, Choi sent his wife and daughters to Maryland so the girls could start school. They had enough money to live on frugally for a year. Choi decided to join them and start over. But like his parents, Choi found he had lost his drive.
"I was stunned," he said. "I just didn't know what to do. It's a weird feeling. A numbness, like your brain is not functioning."
For almost a year he did not work. "At first I thought I should let him rest, let him figure things out," said Leena, now 44, who took odd jobs. "But after a few months, I started to get nervous."
Once again, faith proved the salvation. A Korean missionary invited Choi on a trip to Sri Lanka.
"When I saw what was there -- the poverty, the flies and roaches crawling over everything -- I realized how much we have just living in the United States," he recalled. "I realized I should thank God for what I do have rather than asking for what I don't."
Choi returned with newfound energy. Immediately, his fortune turned. The elderly owner of an unprofitable cafeteria at U.S. Coast Guard headquarters offered to let Choi operate it, then use the profits toward its purchase. Choi installed a salad bar and a hot-food bar and tripled sales.
He was working even longer hours than he had at the carryout, but the work filled him with joy. "I was so thrilled to have a purpose again," he recalled.
He got a contract to run the cafeteria in another government building. Then another. Then another.
Choi has a ritual to mark such occasions: Every time he wins a new contract, buys another car or moves into a bigger house, he drives to the carryout in Baltimore, steps outside and says a prayer.
"It's a way to remember where I came from," he said. "To realize that without the help of God, there is no way I would be where I am now."
It is that memory that has also prompted him to quietly help out dozens of friends who are struggling, offering grants to help cover college payments, or keep businesses afloat and mortgages current. Still, Choi said the most valuable aid he can offer is the lesson of his own life: "If we never lose hope, if we stick together, we will come out of this."
