From Sales Rep in Busan to Aspiring Global CEO: A Journey of Growth

Bokeun Kang: The People-Centered Growth Story of Zespri Korea's Managing Director

"Do you know why there are no Korean CEOs at global companies? It's because they don't dream it."

This single remark from an American English instructor shook Kang Bokeun, Managing Director of Zespri Korea. Starting as a sales rep in Busan, he achieved top performance for four consecutive years, experienced a painful failure at Nestlé within a year, and then spent seven years at Zespri growing a 100 billion won company into a 300 billion won enterprise. Now, he dreams of becoming the first Korean CEO of a global company.

His path has been anything but ordinary.

Though coming from sales, he obtained certifications in positive psychology and professional interviewing, and says, "If I weren't in sales, I'd want to be in HR." After becoming managing director, he prioritized restoring psychological safety in the organization over sales targets, and still runs a weekly "tea time" where employees share gratitude with one another.

His management philosophy is simple yet powerful: "Company growth comes from individual growth." With this belief, he achieved 3x revenue growth over seven years.

A leader who invests in people, leads by example in personal growth, and challenges himself daily toward bigger dreams. Discover the story of "people-centered growth" that Managing Director Kang Bokeun is proving real.

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Q. You achieved top performance for four consecutive years at Kellogg's Busan branch. How was that possible?

If you trace the roots of diligence back, you'll find my father. He was a blue-collar worker who loved to drink, but in my entire life, I never once saw him wake up late the next day after drinking. That image somehow lodged itself in my subconscious. Thanks to that, I had perfect attendance for all 12 years from elementary through high school, and people around me often described me as "sincere" and "diligent." As those descriptions accumulated, diligence became part of my identity.

So if you ask me how I define diligence, it's simple: having a sense of responsibility for what you're assigned and seeing it through to the end. In sales, there are times when you get brutally criticized for poor performance. Every time, I thought, "I need to be confident." When someone asks, "Why aren't you hitting your numbers?" you should be able to confidently say, "If anyone thinks they can do better than me, come and try." That confidence comes from being more certain about your role than anyone else, and that ultimately stems from diligence.

Let me give you a specific example. When I was selling in Busan, my territory was western Gyeongnam—covering Gimhae, Changwon, and Masan. One day, I was making my rounds through Jinju and Changwon, and needed to hit a client in Gimhae last. Then it started pouring in Changwon. I had an appointment, but it was a situation where no one would blame me for not going. In fact, if I'd just called and said, "It's raining too hard, let's meet next time," they would've said, "No problem, get home safely."

But I always went.

Strangely enough, something good always happened when I went on those days. "Put in whatever orders you want today," or "You're short on your monthly target, right? Fill it here." After a couple of experiences like that, my choice at those decision points where I could slack off was always the same. Good results followed, and it helped my career, so there was no reason to hesitate.

Those things accumulated into four consecutive years of top performance.

Q. Your performance was strong—why did you leave?

Right after graduating from college, I joined Kellogg's Busan branch. The first time I saw the head office sales director come down, I was shocked. He had a team of secretaries and sales support staff following him, everything was perfectly prepared—it looked incredible. I'd been there less than a year, but I thought, "If I'm going to work, I need to get at least to that level."

But after working for 2-3 years, reality set in. No matter how well I performed at the Busan branch, there was a ceiling to reaching executive level or sales director. I thought I needed to go to the Seoul headquarters for more opportunities. As it happened, there was an opening for a Key Account Manager position at headquarters—a core role managing major retailers like E-Mart and Lotte Mart.

I thought, "This is it," and applied. A few days later, the answer came back: "No."

When I asked why, they said, "You're too young." This position required directly dealing with buyers from major retailers like E-Mart and Lotte Mart, and managing sales reps in their 40s. They judged that someone in their early 30s like me lacked the experience and age for it.

In that moment, it became clear: "There's no more opportunity for me here."

Without regret, I decided to switch jobs and moved to Reckitt Benckiser's Seoul headquarters.

Reckitt Benckiser was a completely different world. At the Busan branch, I might see a headquarters sales executive once every three months, and briefly at that. At Seoul headquarters, I worked in the same office every day. I could see how he thought and made judgments, what questions he asked, how he led meetings and made decisions—I could learn all of it right beside him.

That became decisive in my growth.

Q. You left Nestlé after just one year. What happened?

My experience at Nestlé remains the biggest failure of my career.

At the time, the company atmosphere was such that when numbers weren't met, all responsibility fell on the sales team. "If you didn't hit your targets, the sales team needs to figure it out," "Somehow push more product"—that sort of thing. I thought that was unreasonable.

So when trying something new, I made decisions and moved forward alone without consulting other departments. I pushed ahead with what the sales team wanted without coordinating with marketing, finance, and SCM team leaders. Naturally, it was hard to get cooperation.

There was a defining incident. At the end of the month, marketing called. "The e-commerce manager couldn't sell our product in a client meeting—as sales director, what are you going to do about it?" I bristled and responded, "If our sales rep can't sell it, why don't you go try selling it yourself?"

Looking back, it was the worst response. The company thought, "If numbers aren't met, sales must solve it no matter what," and I pushed back head-on saying, "That's unfair." Communication completely broke down, and cooperation even more so. I left the company after just over a year, taking responsibility for poor performance.

I learned something important from this failure: In an organization, believing you're right alone isn't enough. No matter how justified your argument, if you can't move forward with other departments, you ultimately fail. I learned that painfully.

This lesson became my greatest asset at Zespri.

Q. What was the first thing you wanted to change at Zespri?

The organization's mindset.

At monthly meetings with distributors, I kept hearing the same thing: "Managing Director, there's no demand in the market."

Every time, I felt frustrated.

"Anyone can sell when the market is good. Our real role isn't selling kiwis where demand exists—it's creating that demand ourselves."

Even now, if the same situation arises, I say the same thing: Demand isn't something you wait for, it's something you create.

But to create demand, we needed to read the market quickly. When I first arrived, sales data only came in once a month. You can't respond to anything with month-old data.

"Let's change to weekly." Pushback poured in. "Why are you increasing our workload?"

I explained patiently: "Fresh fruit loses marketability in just a week. If we find out a month later, it's already too late. If we know this week what sizes sold or didn't sell last week, we can request supply adjustments from New Zealand headquarters, plan promotions with retailers, and create demand."

About a year later, the response changed: "This method is much better." Now even weekly feels slow, so we're transitioning to daily.

I went a step further. We started tracking sales by size. Again, "Why get that granular?" came the response, but this time persuasion was much easier. "If large sizes aren't selling, we can request New Zealand headquarters to switch to smaller sizes. Supplying what consumers want is the essence of demand creation."

The important thing is that over 2-3 years, I proved these changes ultimately benefited not just my numbers but distributors, retailers, and headquarters alike.

Actually, I have a principle called 'walk the talk.' It became even more strict after the Nestlé failure. "Only make promises you can keep." You see people around you who make promises easily and don't keep them, right? I tried not to be that person.

As that principle accumulated, trust formed. Now when I propose something new, the first response is "Let's try it."

Q. The results of your first employee engagement survey after becoming managing director are noteworthy.

The organizational diagnosis results were shocking. It was the lowest score in several years, and psychological safety scores in particular had hit rock bottom. A similar pattern emerged in the team assimilation workshop I conducted right after assuming the role as the new leader. Employees were anxious.

In that moment, I thought, "No matter what sales targets I set in this state, it's pointless." So I decided: Let's restore psychological safety before sales targets.

I adopted something as a principle. Something the LEGO CEO said that really resonated with me:

"I won't hold you accountable for poor performance. But I will hold you accountable for not asking for help."

This was exactly why I failed at Nestlé. Performance can suffer because the market is tough and competition is fierce. There's a lot you can't control alone. But if you keep problems to yourself and don't ask other departments for help, that's a completely different issue. All it takes is going and saying, "Please help."

Once walls start forming between departments, the team, the whole company, collapses. Everyone only looks after their own department, and meetings turn into fights about "Who messed up?" and "Whose responsibility is this?" I saw that scene often when I was in sales at other companies. Sales, marketing, SCM, and finance would always clash when they met.

So I emphasized this point strongly. The moment I see signs of walls forming between departments, I immediately catch it and call those team leaders together. "If we continue like this, the organization is at risk," I tell them clearly. Then I create time to have genuinely honest conversations over lunch.

It took time, but the culture changed. Now when we meet, we discuss solutions, not assign blame. Even when sales, marketing, SCM, and finance gather, very constructive dialogue flows.

Once psychological safety was established, something amazing happened. Employees started fully unleashing their capabilities. They didn't shrink back from watching their backs, they freely shared new ideas, and when problems arose, they honestly communicated them.

That ultimately led to double-digit growth.

Q. You come from sales but seem particularly interested in HR. Is there a special reason?

Aren't people everything?

Looking back at my experience, the answer is clear. I'm the same person, yet sometimes I performed at 120-130% of my capacity, and other times only 70-80%. When I was doing things reluctantly or had zero motivation.

What made the difference? Ultimately, it was the people around me. Whether I had someone who challenged me at the right time, supported me when needed, and boosted my motivation made all the difference.

Here's what I realized: Going from 70% to 130% nearly doubles your performance. Think about this applied not just to me but to the entire team. Our company could go from 10 billion to 20 billion scale, or conversely shrink to 5 billion.

That's why I observe people a lot, invest in them heavily, spare no support. I keep studying too. If someone asks, "If you weren't in sales, where would you want to go?" I used to say marketing, but now I say HR. I'm convinced that how HR designs the organization completely changes the entire company's performance.

That's also why I studied positive psychology. I believe people's mindset and psychological state directly connect to company results. Actually, various research data backs this up.

That's why I still run "Tea Time" every Wednesday—time to express gratitude to each other. I'm convinced these small things unconsciously affect the organization's overall performance.

The professional interviewer certification came from a different kind of urgency. As I conducted more interviews, I grew increasingly anxious. Hiring the wrong person is really dangerous. Like the saying goes about bringing the wrong daughter-in-law into the family ruins it, one wrong employee can shake the entire organization.

The problem was this: I felt I could evaluate functional aspects like sales or marketing capabilities, but how do you judge someone's attitude, growth desire, organizational fit? The more interviews I conducted, the more these fears grew: "Am I properly evaluating this person's real mindset?" "What if this person is an interview expert?"

So I participated in a professional recruitment interviewer program. I systematically learned how to ask questions, how to gauge the real impact of achievements candidates describe, things like that.

Jim Collins said in "Good to Great": "Get the right people on the bus, and you don't need to worry about where that bus is going." Hiring is that important, and going through that process gave me much more confidence in my judgment.

Ultimately, the synergy of both certifications is clear. Using positive psychology to build a healthy organizational culture and ensure psychological safety, while simultaneously using professional interviewer capabilities to select the right people who fit that culture. When these two mesh and operate together, the organization becomes truly strong.

Q. What's the most important criterion when making decisions?

"What direction allows all stakeholders to grow together?"

At the center of that, naturally, must be the consumer. That's the core criterion of my decision-making.

I always think 10 years ahead. What will the kiwi market look like in 10 years? Right now, kiwi's market share in the total fruit market is only 2.5%. When that becomes 5%, then 10%, I think about what benefits everyone receives.

What's important here is the intrinsic value of kiwis as fruit. The vitamin C in 100g of kiwi is much higher than 100g of tangerines or oranges. Even eating the same amount of fruit, eating kiwi makes you healthier and you catch fewer colds.

So when we grow, it's not simply that Zespri makes more money. It means Korean people, people around the world, become healthier. That's our reason for existing.

I share this perspective at every meeting. I always put our purpose on the first slide. Whatever decision we're making, we judge based on "Does this align with our purpose?" and "Does this benefit consumers, distributors, retailers, employees, and New Zealand headquarters?"

If you only focus on short-term sales, there are many easy choices. Push more volume immediately, cut prices, reduce marketing costs, and this quarter's performance might look good.

But I always ask: "Will this decision still be the right decision 10 years from now?" If it's a direction where all stakeholders can grow together long-term, I choose that path even if it's a bit difficult short-term.

That's my decision-making criterion.

Q. You doubled sales volume over 7 years, turning a 100 billion won company into roughly a 300 billion won company. What do you see as the secret?

Ultimately, I think it's because our reason for existing was clear.

Zespri isn't simply a company that sells kiwis. We're a company that makes people healthier. This clear purpose and the values that flow from it became the foundation of all decision-making, and that ultimately led to good growth.

But there's something else I consider important here. The conviction that "company growth drives individual growth." So I constantly emphasize growth, and I challenge myself first.

Specifically, I made a promise to employees: We'll hold 8 insight sessions per year. I book all 8 on the calendar at the start of the year, and each time I read a book and debrief it for employees. Recently we read books like 'Extraordinary Challenge' together.

Why do this? I want to directly show them my efforts to grow. The message is "I'm also continuously learning. Let's grow together." Not just saying "grow" with words, but I believe showing my practice first naturally influences them.

One-on-one meetings are the same. I don't just talk about performance or work—I always ask questions like: "What are you doing for self-development these days?" "What have you learned recently?" "What are you preparing for your next career goal?" These conversations have become habitual.

Not just words—I've actually budgeted training costs separately. For each person to spend on their own growth. Some employees prepare for MBAs, others take digital marketing courses, still others receive leadership coaching.

As these efforts accumulated, a 'growth mindset' took root across the organization. A culture emerged of continuously challenging yourself and trying to learn new things. As individuals grew, better services and products emerged, which in turn led to company growth.

Ultimately, what we pursue as sustainable management is this: We have a clear purpose that our products actually make people healthier, and to realize that purpose, employees continuously grow. When these two mesh, a virtuous cycle naturally forms.

Being able to grow a 100 billion won company into a 300 billion won one over 7 years—the answer ultimately lay here. Clearly knowing why we exist and everyone growing together toward that purpose. We directly proved that when individuals grow, organizations grow too.

Q. You emphasize growth to employees—what self-development are you doing yourself?

What I feel I lack most is communication ability.

I felt it desperately watching my previous Zespri CEO. He was exceptionally skilled at communication. That impressed me so much that I would always read his emails out loud and try to follow his style. I set him as a role model and tried to learn.

But my current boss (Asia-Pacific regional director) saw it differently. "BK, that's not what you're good at—why focus on that? You have your strengths, and he has his."

But my thinking is a bit different.

The essence of leadership is ultimately a game of how much you influence people around you and create change, right? Someone good at communication can move an organization with a 5-minute speech. But for me to create the same change, I need to prepare for an hour. That's clearly a deficiency.

So I'm making various efforts to improve my communication ability.

For example, I'm participating in a 5-year program at a place called "Health Humanities." It's a course where you graduate after reading 100 classics—I'm assigned to present and suffer through the preparation. Even if I don't finish the whole book, I at least go and sit, listen to professors' lectures, and learn while preparing presentations.

Honestly, it's not easy each time. Every weekend morning I think, "Why am I doing this to myself?" but after finishing, I think, "I'm glad I did it."

These are the efforts I'm making to become a better leader, a better communicator.

Q. What's your next goal?

When people ask, I say, "I want to become CEO of a global company."

Actually, whether I become CEO or not isn't important. When I started as a sales rep, my career goal was sales director. I already exceeded that goal. But after achieving it, a strange emptiness came. I'd reached the summit I'd long dreamed of, but the view from there was more subdued than expected. Like I couldn't see the next mountain.

So I set a new goal: "I'll become CEO of a global company." Whether it happens or not isn't really important. After setting that goal, that tension of challenging myself returned.

There was a defining moment. I was taking English lessons, and one day the American instructor suddenly asked:

"BK, do you know how many Korean CEOs of global companies there are?"

"Well, probably not many."

"Almost none. Why do you think that is? The Korean people I've seen living here over 10 years—they're really smart and incredibly hardworking. So why are there no global CEOs?"

I couldn't answer. Then the teacher gave me the answer:

"I think there's just one reason: They don't dream it. Why don't they dream that dream?"

In that moment, I felt like I'd been hit in the head.

This thought suddenly came: If 25 years ago when I started as a sales rep, I'd worked at Seoul headquarters instead of Busan? If the first person I saw wasn't a sales director but a global CEO of a foreign company? Maybe my life would be tracing a slightly different trajectory by now.

The height of the first role model I saw ultimately determined the height of my dreams. If I'd dreamed of being Coca-Cola's CEO back then, while I'm satisfied with my life now, the shape would certainly be different. I realized then that the size of your dream creates the size of your life.

So I think even now isn't too late, and when people ask, I proudly say, "I want to become CEO of a global company."

If this materializes, the meaning goes beyond me personally. A Busan branch sales rep becoming CEO of a global company—that journey itself sends a powerful message to young Koreans. "Your starting point doesn't matter," "You can become a leader on the world stage even starting from the provinces." Proving that possibility—that's what I truly want.