Tag: bodaq

  • My First Job in Canada Came In. The Problem Was — I Had No Idea What to Charge.

    For one full year, I devoted myself entirely to learning interior film installation.

    Every morning started at 6 a.m.
    I came home around 8 p.m.
    At night, I watched installation videos and practiced over and over again.

    That routine lasted an entire year.

    During that time, I learned everything I could from a craftsman with 23 years of experience.
    To be honest, my installation speed was only about half of his.
    But the know-how — the things that usually take decades of trial and error — I absorbed in just one year.

    That’s why I consider myself lucky.

    How many mistakes must he have made over 23 years?
    A hundred? A thousand?

    Before I left, he told me this:

    “Go to Canada.
    Use this skill.
    Build a better life.”

    I’m deeply grateful to Mr. Lee for sharing his knowledge without holding anything back.


    In April 2022, exactly as planned, I boarded a flight to Vancouver.

    What I needed to get started in Canada was surprisingly simple:

    • Solid installation skills
    • A sample book
    • A used car — a 2016 Toyota Corolla
    • An Instagram account

    That was it.

    I didn’t need an F-150 pickup truck.
    I didn’t need a luxury office.
    I didn’t need employees.
    And I definitely didn’t need a marketing agency.


    As soon as I arrived in Vancouver, I started calling and texting Korean renovation contractors.

    I was confident about one thing:
    any Korean contractor would already know what interior film was.

    On a Korean community site in Vancouver, I found a list of 70 contractors.

    Out of those 70,
    20 responded positively.
    The remaining 50 were barely working — many of them answering the phone at home while watching TV.

    Here’s what I kept hearing:

    “We’ve needed interior film before, but there was no one who could do it properly.”

    “Five years ago, we hired a film installer, but the quality was terrible.
    We stopped using film after that.
    If you trained in Korea for a year, I’m willing to give you a shot.”

    “Going all the way to Korea to learn interior film — that’s impressive.
    It’s actually a great niche business in Canada.”

    “Since COVID, construction costs have gone through the roof.
    Film demand is slowly increasing here.
    You know how expensive renovations are in Canada.
    Wrapping cabinets, doors, and furniture can save clients 70–80%.”

    “There are no real film technicians in Vancouver.
    If you learned in Korea, I’m sure you’ll do well.”

    After hearing responses like these, I was so excited that I literally danced.


    That said, my original plan was never to focus on Korean clients in Vancouver.

    The Korean market there is simply too small.

    Out of Greater Vancouver’s population of three million,
    only about 80,000 are Korean.

    On top of that, Korean-focused markets tend to have lower price ceilings —
    similar to how Asian restaurants in North America are often cheaper than Western ones.


    Still, I needed work — fast.

    I had to get the ball rolling.
    Once a business starts moving, it builds momentum.
    I truly believed that.
    I was confident in my skills and, more importantly, in my finishing quality.

    The reality was simple:

    1. Promoting interior film services to Canadian contractors who had never heard of it was extremely difficult.
    2. Promoting my services to Korean contractors who already understood film was easy.

    All I had to say was:

    “I install interior film. I trained in Korea.”

    That alone gave me an advantage.


    For the first three months, I followed up once a month — by phone or text.

    To survive during that time, I worked as an Uber driver.


    Then, about a month in, I finally received my first cabinet-wrapping job.

    That’s when I ran into a serious problem.

    I had no idea how much to charge in Canada.

  • Why 99% of Film Academy Graduates

    Fail Their First Cabinet Door Wrap on a Real Job Site

    For three months,
    I did nothing but prep work.

    Eight hours a day.
    Every day.

    Putty.
    Sanding.
    Primer.

    That was it.

    I never touched film once.

    Because I came from a film academy,
    I wasn’t even given the chance
    to hold the material.

    Then I switched teams.

    And things slowly changed.

    “Your prep is fast.”
    “Your prep is clean.”

    As those words stacked up,
    I finally got my chance.

    My first real film job was
    a residential kitchen cabinet door
    in the middle of August heat.

    I peeled the backing.
    Cleaned the surface.
    Lined up the center.

    The moment I tried to lay it down—

    Something was wrong.

    The film was
    far stickier than I expected.

    Even the slightest contact
    and it wouldn’t come off.

    When I forced it,
    the film stretched like melted cheese
    and began to tear.

    Once.
    Twice.
    By the third attempt,
    the film was completely ruined.

    One thought crossed my mind.

    “This is strange.”
    “It wasn’t this hard at the academy.”

    Looking back,
    everything at the academy felt easy.

    For a reason.

    We practiced with
    five-year-old training film
    that had almost no adhesive strength.

    No primer on the surface.
    No real bonding pressure.

    In other words,
    academy practice was like
    elementary school paper folding.

    But the job site was different.

    On site,
    film adhesive + primer adhesive
    equals industrial-strength bonding.

    One mistake,
    and even three grown men
    struggle to peel it off.

    That’s when it hit me.

    The gap between the academy
    and the real world
    was far bigger than I imagined.

    I dropped my pointless confidence
    and asked the site manager for help.

    He didn’t lecture.

    He just said:

    “Lock the center first.”
    “If you’re a beginner, peel the backing slowly.”
    “Work outward from the middle with the squeegee.”

    That was it.

    But inside those few sentences
    were 23 years of field experience.

    That day,
    I learned something
    no academy could ever teach.

    I wondered if I was just bad.

    So I posted in the academy alumni group.

    “Anyone succeed
    wrapping a cabinet door
    on their first real job?”

    The replies came fast.

    99% failed.

    Same reason.

    “The film is way stickier than expected.”
    “It’s impossible to control.”

    That’s when I knew.

    What we did at the academy
    wasn’t real training.

    It was a controlled simulation.

    That day,
    Mr. Kim’s words came back to me.

    “Film work isn’t learned at an academy.
    It’s learned on site.”

    Now I understand him completely.

    YouTube and academies
    are just entry points.

    Real film skill
    is built only in the field.

    That’s why
    99% of film academy graduates
    fail their first real installation.

    Not because they lack talent.

    But because they’ve never faced reality.

    I was lucky.

    I had the chance
    to relearn film work
    from scratch
    on Korean job sites
    backed by 30 years of industry evolution.

    If I had skipped that step
    and jumped straight into Canadian projects,

    my film business in Canada
    would have failed—
    without question.