“Please.” He fetches a glass and sits next to me. Some tension remains but it’s bearable.
“It was my work,” he says. “On the phone.”
I nod, trying to hide my relief. Work problems are better than hearing about his busted relationship.
“I’ve always known what I wanted,” he says. “From my life, I mean. I had a goal, and I worked hard.”
“I get that,” I say.
“I love most of my life. I’m lucky, soluckyto be able to do what I do.”
“Okay.”
“I want more, though. I feel trapped by my luck. It’s like being successful has put me in a cage.” He buries his head in his hands, and when he speaks again, his voice is muffled. “I’m ungrateful.”
“Hey.” I reach out and grab his hands to pull them away from his face. “What you feel, that’s valid.”
“What?” He looks at me, eyes reddened.
“They want you to keep making the same magic happen in the same way so you don’t mess with a good thing, but it feels like you’re repeating yourself.”
“That’s it,” he says, eyes on the ground. “I worry about going against them, but I want to grow.”
“Change is scary,” I say. “Can you leave for a new job?”
Jihoon is shaking his head even before I finish. “I love my team and leaving would put them at a disadvantage.”
“That’s tough,” I say. “How about making small changes you can build on? It might be easier for you, too.”
“I tried.” He rubs his face. “The bosses told me to stop, more or less.”
“Messing with the formula.”
He smiles at his glass. “Yeah.”
“The opposite thing is happening with me,” I say. “You know the change you want. I always thought I knew what I wanted at work. Now I don’t.”
“You want to make partner,” he says. “That’s your goal.”
“I guess.”
“It’s not anymore?”
“I don’t know how I feel. I never used to have doubts about what I did.” I look at him. “Did you?”
“Not until I got what I wanted. Then I didn’t know if I had been wanting the right things.”
“Me neither,” I say.
“I’ve never said that to anyone,” he muses. “Not even my friends. I don’t know if I’ve ever said it out loud even to myself. It felt good.”
I frown. “Really? Because I hate it.”
“Why?”
“I like to have a plan,” I say. “To know what I’m doing. Now I’m not sure. I don’t do well with ambiguity.”
“No,” he says. “I’ve seen your to-do lists.”
