In the late 1980s, I was working in the import purchasing department at Samsung Electro-Mechanics.
At the time, our company was manufacturing power supply units for IBM. One of the critical components was a cooling fan supplied by an American company called Rotron.
Inventory was always tight.
Today, people would probably call it a Just-In-Time supply chain.
Then one day, a volcanic eruption near Anchorage disrupted air cargo routes.
Suddenly, one of our most important components was delayed.
If the shipment did not arrive on time, our production line could stop. If production stopped, export schedules would be affected. If export schedules were affected, customer trust could suffer.
It was not a small problem.
A few days later, we finally received some good news.
The shipment would arrive at Gimpo Airport on Sunday.
For a moment, everyone relaxed.
Then a new problem appeared.
Back then, imported parts had to be transported under customs control before they could clear customs and enter the factory.
I started making phone calls.
The answer was always the same.
“It can’t be done.”
Sunday bonded transportation was not allowed.
The customs procedures would have to wait until Monday.
I called the transportation company and asked whether they could move the shipment immediately if approval was somehow granted.
“Yes,” they said.
“Then have your truck and driver ready.”
The next morning, I put on a suit and headed to Gimpo Airport.
Everyone had already told me it was impossible.
I wanted to see for myself.
At the customs office, I met the official responsible for the decision.
I explained the situation as clearly as I could.
If these parts were delayed, a production line could stop the next morning.
Exports could be disrupted.
Customers could be affected.
I spoke with all the sincerity and urgency I could muster.
The official listened quietly.
Then he stood up and left.
I stayed where I was.
Waiting.
I do not remember how much time passed.
What I do remember is how strange the scene must have looked.
A young employee in a suit.
Sitting alone in a customs office on a Sunday morning.
Nervous, probably.
Awkward, certainly.
But determined.
Eventually, the official returned.
He looked at me for a moment.
Then, without saying a word, he picked up the transportation permit and stamped it.
That was it.
No speech.
No explanation.
Just one stamp.
I immediately rushed to the transportation company.
When the employees saw the permit, they looked genuinely surprised.
Then one of them told me something I never forgot.
The customs officer who approved it was known throughout the region as a strict rule-follower.
The kind of person who almost never made exceptions.
Thanks to that approval, the shipment moved that Sunday.
The parts cleared customs early Monday morning and reached the production line on schedule.
The shortage never happened.
Years later, I still think about that Sunday at Gimpo Airport.
During my career, I heard the phrase “It can’t be done” countless times.
Sometimes it was true.
Many things really are impossible.
But I learned something important that day.
When people say something is impossible, they are not always stating a fact.
Sometimes they are expressing an opinion.
Sometimes they are repeating a habit.
Sometimes they are simply describing a path that nobody has tried yet.
Looking back, I did not just save a shipment that day.
I learned a lesson that would guide me throughout my entire career.
“Impossible” is not always a conclusion.
Sometimes it is simply the beginning of a conversation.
And more than once in my life, the solution appeared only after I stopped accepting someone else’s version of “No.”