About Us

"Pete’s not what you expect, he’s what you remember.  You think you’ve got him figured out. Then he starts talking. One second he’s laying out a wild idea that sounds like it came from a midnight fever dream, and the next he’s walking you through the technical roadmap like he built the damn motherboard himself. And he probably did.  He’s a conundrum, yeah, but not the kind you solve. The kind that solves you.

Pete pitches like he’s headlining, launches like a one-man startup, and sticks around to make sure the team doesn’t just use the thing...they own it. Systems, platforms, processes, he doesn’t just implement, he transfers fire.  There’s a reason the execs sit up straighter when he walks in. Something shifts, the air changes. Pete doesn’t do theater, he brings results wrapped in velocity, delivered with a side of “It's amazing no one's thought of this before!”

But here’s what sets him apart: Pete remembers. He remembers the drink you ordered the night your brand launched. The band that opened at the show you forgot. Your daughter’s name, your dad’s old truck, the number you wore in high school. Not because he’s taking notes, but because he gives a damn. That’s not charisma, it’s high-resolution empathy. And it’s extremely rare.

He doesn’t just build trust, he builds fortresses out of it.  When things go sideways, and they always do, Pete doesn’t flinch. He’s already making calls: AI black belts. Ops savants, Codebreakers and closers. He’s got them all on speed dial, and when he rings, they answer.

If you need polished decks and pretty words, keep looking.  If you want someone who can light a fuse, rebuild the engine mid-flight, and teach your crew how to fly the thing better than you ever did, Pete’s already on the tarmac." Jesse Capps

We didn’t find Pete. We got handed his name like a secret weapon.  A senior exec at a global sports gear brand (we’ll leave the name off, but you know it) told us flat-out: “You’re about to implode. Call Pete. Trust me.”

So we did. No job description. No pitch deck. Just a cold intro and a gut feeling that we were out of moves.

We were circling a major acquisition by United Healthcare. On the outside? Clean. On the inside? Our sales engine was choking. We had a custom-built Marketplace, engineered by the same technologist who monetized Alexa, and no one was using it. Over 170 reps and managers were trapped in slow, manual hell. Contracts jammed, renewals stalled and millions on the table, just sitting.

Then Pete walked in.

No blazer, no clipboard. Just this grounded, surgical presence. Like he’d already seen the end of the movie and wasn’t here to impress, he was here to fix it.

He listened first. Didn’t flinch at the mess. Learned our systems, our people, our pain. And then he made it simple. Not easier. Clearer. He started joining calls, coaching live, rewriting flows on the fly. He didn’t lead from above. He was in the trenches, building confidence, one rep at a time.

What happened next wasn’t magic. It was momentum.

The platform caught fire. Legal queues dried up. Renewals closed faster. Reps who swore they’d never trust the system started selling through it. In nine months, we saw a 285% lift in inside sales. $35 million freed from backlog and friction.

But that’s not the story. The story is how Pete made people care again. He made them laugh again. He made this broken thing feel like ours again. He didn’t just fix what was broken, he left something better behind.

And then, just like that, he vanished. No parade. No ask for credit. Just a quiet exit like some kind of myth. The kind of guy you don’t write job descriptions for, because there’s only one.

And if you’re lucky? Somebody whispers his name to you too." Tasha Russell

"Pete joined AJ Networks during an acquisition. A six-month contract. Post-merger cleanup. He was supposed to be temporary. He wasn’t.  Over five years, he was promoted five times. By the end, he was Senior Director of Strategy. The first non-Korean executive in our history to reach that level. Not because he demanded authority, because he earned something harder to get here. Our respect.

Ours is a company built on hierarchy and tradition. Pete never tried to change that. He studied us, he honored how we worked. And still, he found ways to move us forward. He didn’t speak to be heard, he waited, listened, and when he did speak, people leaned in. Slowly, departments stopped asking permission to follow him, they just did.

He flew in from the U.S. every month. And every time, something shifted. The energy. The rhythm of HQ. His door was never closed. There was always a quiet line outside it. People came to talk strategy, but more often, they stayed to talk about their families, their kids, their lives. He didn’t just care about the business. He cared about the people trying to hold it all together.

And still, this wasn’t soft leadership. Pete rebuilt our operating core. He overhauled systems, streamlined logistics, expanded our retail footprint. He connected us to the global market without compromising who we were. His changes didn’t feel like disruption. They felt like evolution.

It was only later we learned that Pete’s father and two uncles fought in the 6·25 War. That history carried weight in our halls. And in him, we saw that legacy, discipline without ego, duty without show. Something unspoken but deeply understood.

Years have passed. The systems he built still run. His decisions still echo in boardrooms. And when we speak of him now, we don’t say consultant. We don’t even say director.

We say hyung. Older brother. One of us. Pete is 전무후무. Not because he tried to belong, because he did." SS