New Employee Kim Chul-soo

Chapter 17

Jang Yoo-mi sat up at the sound of the alarm.

The sun had already risen, and sunlight streamed through the window.

She stretched and yawned, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Fumbling for her phone on the bedside table, she opened it.

7:10 a.m.

She went out to the living room, but her father, Jang Go-dong, was not there.

He went out to work at the crack of dawn, even on weekends. Jang Yoo-mi couldn’t keep up with his diligence.

As always, the table was set for breakfast on weekend mornings. She lifted the tablecloth, revealing a full spread.

After finishing her meal and washing the dishes, Jang Yoo-mi tidied her room and headed to the office.

She couldn’t do anything else during the weekdays because of work. She thought she had to go out and study on weekends if she wanted to keep up with Kim Cheol-su.

When she arrived at the office, the lights were on in Sales Team 5. She peeked in and saw Kim Cheol-su’s usual bag on his desk, which was cluttered with documents.

He must have come in early.

‘As expected. Cheol-su-ssi is different. I should come in every weekend and work hard too.’

After focusing for about two hours, Jang Yoo-mi felt hungry and decided to have a sandwich for lunch at the cafe on the first floor. As she ate her sandwich and looked out the window, she saw Kim Cheol-su walking down the street on the other side, talking with a woman she had never seen before.

‘Ah, his girlfriend.’

Even from a distance, the person next to Kim Cheol-su looked fashionable and stylish, as if they had stepped out of a fashion show on Broadway.

She had a nice figure, able to pull off a white dress with a red and black diagonally crossed jacket.

Jang Yoo-mi took a bite of her sandwich as she watched them wave goodbye at the opposite traffic light.

She had thought it was impossible for him not to have a girlfriend.

It felt like she was about to get a luxury bag she had always wanted at a 90% discount, only to have it snatched away from her right before her eyes.

Jang Yoo-mi shook her head, trying to shake off the thought, but her tenacious competitive spirit emerged.

Jang Yoo-mi, who had entered middle school with the lowest grades in her class and been ignored by her classmates, had taken first place in the final exams of the second semester, proving them wrong. From then on, she tenaciously delved into everything she did, winning awards and taking first place.

‘I can’t give up already.’

Jang Yoo-mi swallowed the remaining half of her sandwich in one gulp and ordered two iced Americanos before going back to the office.

Only Kim Cheol-su and Jang Yoo-mi were in the large office. She went straight to Kim Cheol-su’s desk with the coffees.

Kim Cheol-su was busy brushing his teeth, checking the progress of his assigned tasks and emails, and getting a grasp of the situation in Kenya. He didn’t notice Jang Yoo-mi standing in front of him with coffee.

“Cheol-su-ssi?”

When Jang Yoo-mi spoke, he quickly looked up.

“Oh, Yoo-mi-ssi?”

“I saw your bag on your desk, so I thought you might be here. I bought this after lunch. Have some and keep up the good work.”

“Thank you. I keep getting freebies from you.”

“Then buy me a meal later.”

“Ah. Yes. Sure.”

Jang Yoo-mi turned around, giggling, at his reply.

Kim Cheol-su watched her retreating figure and thought,

A cup of coffee is 1,500 won.

A meal is at least 5,000 won.

‘She knows how to do business.’

******

Sunday morning.

As Kim Cheol-su was about to leave the house with a large travel bag that reached his waist, Yoon Jin-sook called him to a halt.

“I heard people miss Korean food when they go abroad.”

Kim Cheol-su pointed at the bundle in Yoon Jin-sook’s hands and asked,

“What’s that?”

“It’s a container with homemade doenjang and gochujang.”

He would only be staying for two days, excluding the flight time, so it was unlikely he would miss doenjang or gochujang. But Kim Cheol-su didn’t say a word and opened his travel bag, knowing his mother had prepared it for him early in the morning.

“Why all this popcorn?”

“To eat there.”

Yoon Jin-sook placed the container in the empty space in the travel bag filled with popcorn.

“You’re something else, even though you’re my son.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Hurry up and go. You’ll be in big trouble if you miss your flight.”

“Okay.”

He took a flight from Incheon Airport to Hong Kong, then transferred to Madrid, Spain, and finally arrived at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, Kenya.

From around 2010, when the development of Africa began in earnest, there were direct flights from Korea to Nairobi, the capital of Kenya. But in this era, when there was little interest in Africa, he had to transfer through several airports.

At Jomo Kenyatta Airport, security guards with rifles scanned the passengers with sharp eyes.

Knowing that it was common to be dragged away for inspection if anything seemed suspicious, Kim Cheol-su calmly smiled at them when he made eye contact, passing through without any problems.

Standing in front of the immigration counter, Kim Cheol-su slipped a $10 bill into his passport and handed it to the officer.

The large, stout black man, who was checking his visa and entry documents, grinned, revealing his white teeth, when he opened the passport and saw the $10 bill.

He immediately returned Kim Cheol-su’s passport and documents, saying,

“Pass!”

After a 22-hour flight and accumulated fatigue, Kim Cheol-su wanted to get out and get some sleep at the hotel. But he had to wait almost an hour to get his luggage. As he dragged his travel bag out of the airport, someone shouted,

“Mister Kim Cheol-su.”

Kim Cheol-su spotted a tall black man waving at him from a distance and headed towards him.

“Hello. I’m Kennedy.”

Kennedy greeted him first in fairly clear Korean.

Although he was nearly 2 meters tall, he bent down so Kim Cheol-su wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. He was a very impressive man with a gentle face and friendly eyes.

“I’m Kim Cheol-su from Han-Young Corporation.”

“Nice to meet you. Can I speak in English?”

“Of course.”

“Mister Gong asked me to guide you until you leave.”

“Thank you, Kennedy. I’ll pay you generously for your guiding service, so please take good care of me.”

Kennedy beamed at the mention of generous payment.

“This way. We need to take a car. It’ll take about 5 hours to get to Mombasa. You must be tired from your trip from Korea. Give me your luggage.”

Despite Kim Cheol-su’s protests, Kennedy took his bag and led the way.

Kennedy opened the trunk of his Volkswagen Golf, which looked like it had been manufactured in the 1980s, and shoved the luggage in. Kim Cheol-su got into the passenger seat.

The stifling heat made it hard to breathe, but the air conditioner wasn’t working, so he opened the window.

Kennedy, after putting the luggage away, got into the driver’s seat and said,

“It’s hot, but bear with it until we get out of the city. If you have the window open, some guys might point guns at you.”

He closed the window again.

Kim Cheol-su nodded with a pale face.

“Alright, let’s get going, esteemed guest from Korea.”

This is why I go on business trips

Lee Jun-hak went to an amusement park with his family for a two-day, one-night trip, something they hadn’t done in a long time.

It had been a while since he had seen his three-year-old son, Ji-hoon, so excited.

Although he couldn’t go on many rides because he was young, Lee Jun-hak tried to let him ride everything he could.

He took his camera and captured Ji-hoon playing in a garden full of yellow tulips, then pestering Hye-young for snacks while sitting by the fountain.

When they went on trips, Dad was always the photographer.

With a popcorn bucket hanging around his neck, Lee Jun-hak made eye contact with Ji-hoon, who was posing on a small chair for a caricature drawing, and said to Jang Hye-young,

“Ji-hoon is really enjoying himself.”

“Yes, it’s been a while.”

“How long has it been?”

“Over a year. You’ve been so busy.”

“Has it been that long?”

He said that, but Lee Jun-hak knew.

Work came first, and he couldn’t help but neglect his family.

“Yes. Will you be able to get that overseas assignment?”

“Ji-hoon will be starting school next year, so wouldn’t it be better to stay in Korea?”

Jang Hye-young sighed briefly at his words.

“It’s better to raise Ji-hoon abroad than in Korea. How well can our kids grow up if we’re just salaried workers? It’s better to be abroad, where they can succeed if they have the ability.”

Lee Jun-hak had spoken to Jang Hye-young several times about this, and he knew how firm her belief was.

“You’re always coming home late from company dinners, drinking parties, and whatnot, just to sleep. If you get an overseas assignment, you’ll have more free time. You’ll be able to spend more time with Ji-hoon too.”

Jang Hye-young continued expressing her thoughts, and Lee Jun-hak sighed inwardly.

His wife wasn’t wrong.

He had studied useless knowledge in that stifling classroom, competed for rankings to get into college, and gotten good grades to enter a company, only to find it even more suffocating.

When Ji-hoon was born, and he held his child for the first time, Lee Jun-hak made a decision.

He would create a good future for his child.

From that moment, he began his race to the top.

As Lee Jun-hak was lost in thought, Jang Hye-young continued,

“If you can’t get the overseas assignment, let’s send Ji-hoon to study abroad. Seo-hee from building 201 went to the US. So did Guk-jin from building 402. They earn less than us, but they send their kids abroad for education. What’s stopping us?”

Jang Hye-young had a point.

He couldn’t play with his child even though he loved him so much because he was too busy.

In Ji-hoon’s drawings from kindergarten, there were pictures of his mother and their dog, Podol-i, but his own image was always his back as he was leaving the house.

There wasn’t a single drawing where his father’s face appeared.

He would have even less time in the future.

Wouldn’t it be better to send Ji-hoon to a developed country for a proper education, as Hye-young suggested?

After much deliberation, Lee Jun-hak spoke,

“Let’s think about it. I’ll first see if I can get an overseas assignment.”

Jang Hye-young, pleased that Lee Jun-hak was open to her suggestion, linked her arm with his.

“Thank you, honey.”

The winter sun in Kenya in May, located in the southern hemisphere, was still hot, but as the sun was covered by clouds, the air in the car cooled slightly.

Kim Cheol-su, finally able to breathe freely, spoke,

“The traffic is terrible.”

Countless cars were pouring onto the narrow road, making Seoul’s traffic jams pale in comparison. It was so slow that it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that walking would be faster.

At his words, Kennedy spoke as if to say, “You’re surprised by this?”

“It’s less congested now because it’s daytime. In the evening, you can turn off the engine, take a nap, and wake up in the same spot.”

“Wouldn’t it be faster to get out and walk?”

“Sure, you could get there very quickly, to heaven that is.”

Kennedy chuckled and pointed at Kim Cheol-su’s suit, continuing,

“Kim, if you go out in those clothes, you’ll become a target for robbers. Want to buy some clothes from me?”

Kim Cheol-su laughed and asked,

“Are you a kkomaeksang (peddler)?”

Kennedy shook his head as if he knew what that meant.

“Oh! You know what that is. It’s my main job.”

Kkomaeksangs were peddlers who sold smuggled goods.

They usually carried large suitcases and sold all sorts of odds and ends. In Africa, where security was poor, they played a major role in supplying goods to the region.

Kkomaeksangs had connections with local dignitaries and those in power and made regular payments to them, so they were protected in the area.

‘Oh? Perfect.’

“Let’s see what you have.”

At Kim Cheol-su’s words, Kennedy smiled innocently, reclined his seat, and pulled out a suitcase from the storage space behind him, placing it on his lap. He then opened it.

“Uh, aren’t you driving?”

“It’s okay. I can do it without looking.”

Kennedy said confidently.

Inside his suitcase were T-shirts and pants in very vivid colors, typical of what one might find in Africa.

They were colors that would make people in Korea stop and stare, even if they were in a hurry to find a bathroom. But Kim Cheol-su chose a suitable set of top and bottom.

“Good choice, Kim. You seem to have great taste.”

Kennedy complimented him, and Kim Cheol-su nodded, pleased.

“How much?”

“Give me 5 dollars each.”

The average monthly living expenses for an ordinary Kenyan family were $150, so $10 was a significant amount.

But Kim Cheol-su, who wanted to sell popcorn machines in Kenya, thought it was worth paying Kennedy even more.

He immediately took out $10 from his wallet and handed it to him. Kennedy winked and gave him a light hug.

“You truly are an esteemed guest.”

‘More like a cash cow.’

“Can you also exchange it for Kenyan shillings?”

“Of course. But I can’t give you much.”

“Would $20 be possible?”

Kim Cheol-su had already checked the exchange rate for the shilling, Kenya’s currency.

It was 1 shilling to 0.1 cents, and he was curious to see how much Kennedy would exchange.

Kennedy noticed Kim Cheol-su’s expression, which was more serious than before.

At 41, Kennedy had been a kkomaeksang for 18 years.

So he could predict situations by observing people’s expressions during transactions, and he was quick-witted.

Knowing that he was a kkomaeksang, Kim Cheol-su had readily paid $10 for the $1 T-shirt and pants without haggling.

Kennedy, who had dealt with many Koreans, had never seen anyone like him.

They all haggled to save even a penny.

It was the first time in a long time that he had encountered someone who simply agreed.

‘Hmm. In that case.’

“The current exchange rate is 1,012 shillings to the dollar. Including the exchange fee, I’ll give you 950 shillings per dollar. You won’t get this rate at any bank.”

Kim Cheol-su was satisfied with Kennedy’s offer.

‘He’s quite good at reading the situation? He’s sharp and must have been in business for a long time. Then he must have a wide network of connections.’

“Alright!”

Kim Cheol-su received 19,000 shillings and handed over $20.

Kennedy pocketed the money and casually asked,

“Do you need anything else from me?”

Kim Cheol-su, realizing how perceptive Kennedy was, smiled broadly and nodded.

“Yes.”

Kennedy grinned, revealing his white teeth.

“Tell me anything.”

“First, I need to open my bag.”

“Aha! No problem.”

Kennedy turned off the engine, fully reclined his seat, and used his long arms to drag Kim Cheol-su’s travel bag from the back.

“You can open it there.”

“Okay.”

Kim Cheol-su opened the bag and took out a bag of popcorn.

The staple food in Kenya was ugali, which was a steamed dish made from ground cornmeal, similar in taste to Korean baekseolgi (white rice cake).

If rice was the staple food for Koreans, corn was the staple food for Kenyans.

“What’s that?”

Kennedy pointed at the popcorn, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Kim Cheol-su opened the bag and handed him a handful of popcorn.

“Try it.”

Kennedy put the popcorn in his mouth and chewed, then exclaimed,

“Wow! It’s delicious!”

After licking the remaining crumbs off his hand with his long tongue, he asked,

“What is this?”

“It’s made from corn.”

“Corn? You can make something like this?”

Kim Cheol-su picked up a round piece of popcorn and said,

“This is one kernel of corn. It doesn’t spoil easily.”

Kennedy stared at the single popcorn kernel Kim Cheol-su was holding, lost in thought.

Ugali, made by grinding corn into flour and steaming it, was a high-calorie food. But because it required a large amount of corn, most of the poor in Kenya went hungry until the next harvest.

But if they could puff up a single kernel of corn like this, he was sure it would help them stave off hunger during times of scarcity.

“Oh! That’s great. This is amazing. Can I have some more?”

“Sure.”

Kim Cheol-su opened the bag wide so Kennedy could help himself.

Kennedy started eating the sweet and savory popcorn, counting how many he ate.

After eating about 200 pieces, he was surprised to feel full.

‘200 pieces are equivalent to one ear of corn. And it makes me feel this full?’

Kennedy looked at Kim Cheol-su and asked,

“Are you going to sell this?”

“I’m not going to sell this directly, but I want to sell the machine that makes this.”

Kennedy was slightly disappointed when he heard the word “machine,” realizing there was no room for him to get involved.

“That’s a shame.”

Kim Cheol-su, seeing his disappointment, said,

“If the contract goes well and the business thrives, I might need someone local to work for me.”

Kennedy instantly understood what he meant.

“You’re looking for an importer, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I think we can be good partners! Don’t you think so, Kim?”

At Kennedy’s hopeful words, Kim Cheol-su smiled and nodded.

It wouldn’t be easy to find a trade partner who spoke English so well and was so quick-witted in Kenya, where the illiteracy rate was very high.

‘I should thank Assistant Manager Gong. I’ll buy him a meal when I get back.’

Once they left the heavily congested center of Nairobi, they were greeted by a wide-open road with hardly any cars.

Finally, they could open the windows, and a cool breeze swept through the car.

As the heavily tinted windows rolled down, the Kenyan landscape came into view.

Black women in brightly colored clothes, carrying water jugs on their heads, walked and chatted.

A solitary tree stood majestically on the low grasslands.

A vast panorama with clouds like a gradation painting the blue sky.

And Kennedy, happily chattering away.

Kim Cheol-su’s fatigue vanished as he took in the picturesque scene, where everything seemed to move at a leisurely pace.

It was a complete departure from being stuck in the office with documents, numbers, and phone calls.

He’s the kind of person you want to keep doing business with

In grain trading, the “FOB (Free On Board)” term is commonly used, where the final quantity and quality are determined at the port of loading.

This means that the seller is not responsible for any changes in quality or quantity discovered upon arrival at the port of discharge.

Therefore, inspections must be carried out before shipment.

Kim Cheol-su, along with a coffee grader hired locally, was inspecting the goods at a container warehouse at the Mombasa cargo wharf.

There was nothing wrong with the coffee beans, but he pointed out a problem with the packaging method. The person in charge simply waved his hands and mumbled something in Swahili, as if there was no problem at all.

The fact that he was doing this even though he understood English meant that he didn’t want to comply with their request.

“What’s he saying?”

Kim Cheol-su asked Kennedy, who was standing next to him.

“He said they’ve always done it this way and there’s never been a problem.”

If water got into the container, it could cause a serious problem, so Kim Cheol-su asked them to repackage the goods and place pallets underneath.

But they still waved him off.

After several attempts at negotiation, Kim Cheol-su took out his cell phone, which had been recording the conversation, and played back the audio.

“I have a recording of our conversation, and if anything happens to the cargo, this recording will be crucial evidence.”

When Kim Cheol-su issued a firm warning, the person in charge started yelling in Swahili again, clearly angry.

After about a minute of arguing, they heard a loud voice.

“What’s going on?”

An Indian man wearing a yellow helmet approached them, and the man who had been arguing with Kim Cheol-su shifted awkwardly.

He greeted Kim Cheol-su with a “Hello” and said,

“I’m Barun, the cargo manager.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kim Cheol-su from Han-Young Corporation.”

“What’s the problem?”

“They haven’t repackaged the goods as we requested.”

“What do you mean?”

Barun glared at the person in charge standing next to him and shouted for all the containers to be opened.

The workers reluctantly opened all the containers. Barun, after inspecting the inside, reprimanded the workers for a while, then approached Kim Cheol-su with a regretful expression.

“I apologize, Kim. Transparent vinyl and pallets are quite expensive in Kenya. It seems the workers have stolen them. We’ll pack them properly next time.”

‘Hah! These guys?’

Unbelievable things happened all the time in trading, but this situation was bordering on childish prank.

The cargo manager and the work supervisor colluded to steal vinyl and pallets for their own profit?

If a rookie trader had been in this position, he would have given in to the threats of the burly workers and the Oscar-worthy performance of the Indian man.

But Kim Cheol-su was a seasoned trader. He smiled calmly, held up his cell phone, and said,

“Our entire conversation has been recorded. The FOB term is included in the letter of credit, but according to Appendix 2-7(a), if there’s even a slight problem with the cargo, I can file a lawsuit based on this recording. You have two choices: either repackage the goods properly or take responsibility later. For your information, this recording will also be sent to Yangseo Food. And they will try to find any excuse to lower the price, right? If you’re not the company representative, you’ll be in a difficult situation.”

Barun, with a hardened expression, thought of Lee Jun-hak, whom he had met last year.

‘I thought he would be easy to deal with because he was a rookie…… He’s worse than that guy! If he really has a recording, I’m in trouble.’

He asked Kim Cheol-su to wait a moment, then spoke to the work supervisor before returning.

“Alright, alright. We’ll repackage them as you requested. But it’ll take some time.”

“As long as the cargo is packed safely, I don’t care how long it takes.”

******

Kim Cheol-su left the wharf after capturing images of the containers being safely loaded onto the ship and setting sail at 4 a.m. with his digital camera.

He then woke up Kennedy, who was sound asleep in the car.

Kennedy opened his eyes, saw that it was still dark, and said,

“Kim, we need to sleep here until sunrise. Driving in the dark is suicide.”

“Okay.”

Kennedy, realizing that most Koreans he had met worked tirelessly without rest, asked Kim Cheol-su,

“Are all Koreans this diligent?”

“We’re all struggling to escape poverty.”

“But Korea is a rich country. What’s there to struggle for in a country like that? You should be happy just being there.”

Kennedy smiled blissfully.

It was a longing for the unknown.

Yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes, Kennedy continued,

“Oh, right. While you were at the wharf, I met an acquaintance in Mombasa. He’s very interested in that popcorn. He wants to talk to you at a dinner party.”

Despite his fatigue, Kim Cheol-su felt his mood lift thanks to Kennedy’s proactive efforts.

‘A party in Kenya.’

“What does your acquaintance like?”

Kennedy grinned, revealing his white teeth.

“I know just the thing.”

******

━Yes! Team Leader. I checked the goods and confirmed the packaging. I attached the seal sticker and watched it being loaded onto the container ship and setting sail. Yes…… yes…… I have the photos and recordings, but I can’t access the internet right now. I’ll send them by email as soon as I arrive at Abu Dhabi Airport. Yes, Team Leader…… Yes. Good work.

Kim Cheol-su collapsed as soon as he arrived at the hotel and reported to Team Leader Ahn Jeong-gyu. He woke up around lunchtime, washed up, and had a simple lunch at the hotel restaurant.

He then bought about 50 white envelopes and a large black envelope from the hotel shop, returned to his room, and started packing small portions of the popcorn from his travel bag.

The last time Kim Cheol-su had been in Mombasa, Kenya, it had been a tourist city with luxurious hotels. But now, all he saw were rows of shabby slums and a few scattered buildings.

The absence of any construction sites indicated that it was before the development plans had been drawn up.

But Mombasa was a city with beautiful beaches and was popular among Europeans seeking unique travel destinations.

Trucks loaded with coffee and tea sped down the streets, and swarms of dark-skinned children clung to tourists like mosquitoes.

Children, seemingly between 6 and 9 years old, shouted “Gentleman!” and “Lady!” as they tried to sell their sculptures.

But seasoned travelers, knowing that if they bought from one child, the rest would swarm them, ignored them and walked on. First-time tourists, however, ended up spending a lot of money, buying from the children.

Because the children’s expressions were so pitiful.

Azusha, a six-year-old girl, was too small to compete with the other children and was pushed aside.

She looked around, searching for another opportunity.

She spotted Kim Cheol-su, who was walking leisurely with a large black bag and shabby clothes, and hesitated.

He looked like a foreigner with his white face, but he didn’t seem rich, and the large bag he was carrying looked like a poop bag. (In Kenya’s slums, people put their feces in black bags.)

But she gathered her courage and approached Kim Cheol-su.

“Gentleman!”

Azusha, with her unusually large eyes, pulled at Kim Cheol-su’s red pants with a pitiful expression.

When Kim Cheol-su looked down, she held out the sculpture in her tiny hand.

The only English words Azusha knew were “Gentleman,” “Lady,” and “Thank you,” and she prayed to God that he would understand her intentions.

Kim Cheol-su looked at Azusha, squatted down, and took out a few pieces of white popcorn from the black bag, offering them to her.

Azusha’s large eyes widened further when she saw the white kernels emerge from what she thought was a poop bag.

Kim Cheol-su popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and chewed, and seeing this, Azusha also put the popcorn in her mouth.

She felt a jolt of electricity run through her as the sweet and savory flavor exploded in her mouth.

After quickly devouring the popcorn in her hand, Azusha’s gaze shifted to the black bag.

Kim Cheol-su took out a bag of popcorn and pointed at the small sculpture in her hand. Azusha shook her head vigorously.

She took out three more sculptures from her pocket, and Kim Cheol-su took out three more bags of popcorn.

A barter exchange was made in an instant.

Azusha, clutching the four large bags of popcorn to her small body, repeatedly exclaimed “Thank you!” with a look of pure delight.

Seeing this, other children flocked to them, while experienced travelers shook their heads and passed Kim Cheol-su by.

Looking at the sculptures the children brought out, he realized they were too intricate to be made by children.

He had read in a document that Kenyans made all their ornaments by hand, so he knew these children had families.

The popcorn he gave them would be shared with their families, and they would all get to taste it.

Although only a small number of people would eat it, word of mouth traveled as fast as the internet, so the popcorn he brought would serve its purpose and disappear.

After exchanging all his popcorn for sculptures, Kim Cheol-su shook the empty black bag. The children who couldn’t trade with him walked away disappointed.

Free from the pestering of the mosquito-like children, Kim Cheol-su leisurely admired the sculptures in his hand, his trader’s eyes scanning the street.