The Potato Lab: Episodes 11-12 (Final) » Dramabeans
The Potato Lab: Episodes 11-12 (Final)
by DaebakGrits
The question on everyone’s mind as we enter the final week of our potato-themed drama is not will our OTP get their happy ending but how are they going to believably overcome their mutual angst to get there? Well, believability is in the eye of the beholder, and if you’re someone, like me, who’s been rooting for this couple to a point you can suspend your disbelief, then you won’t be disappointed in this rom-com’s ending.
EPISODES 11-12
Instead of making us sit through an agonizing replay of the full heartbreaking moment Baek-ho confessed his role in Mi-kyung’s termination six years ago, we pick up exactly where we left off last week, with Baek-ho’s tearful “yes” as he confirms all Mi-kyung’s fears. He apologizes, but by this point she’s heard enough and needs some space to think, cry, and purge her room of the memorabilia she’s collected in the short span of their relationship. However, as she drags her giant teddy bear from its place of importance next to her bed, she flashbacks to happier times, and it’s clear she’s struggling to reconcile the kind, flirtatious man she fell for with the faceless HR grunt who fired her at one of the lowest points of her life. As she later explains to Ong-ju, she’s “disappointed in Baek-ho as a person.” Logically she knows he was simply following orders and doing his job six years ago, but logic doesn’t stop her from feeling conflicted or questioning whether or not Baek-ho is a “nice guy.”
So, can someone be a decent human being and also passively force Mi-kyung to quit her job by transferring her to another department and making her a social pariah? While the answer to this question will likely be highly debated among viewers, it’s clear from the beginning — even ignoring the drama gods’ obvious push towards a happy ending — which side Mi-kyung will fall on. You see, Mi-kyung’s recent termination from the potato lab is not a significant contributor to her present agony, which suggests she is capable of accepting Baek-ho’s actions as an unfortunate byproduct of his job. And if she can forgive him for firing her in the present, then she can forgive him for his part in what happened six years ago. You know, just as soon as his mere presence stops invoking painful memories of the past.
Baek-ho assumes this is the end for their relationship and passively accepts defeat, and without consulting Mi-kyung, he makes their breakup public. She’s not pleased that her coworkers have yet another reason to pity her, so for her remaining time at Potato Lab, she has one wish: for Baek-ho to stay as far away as professionally possible. Baek-ho complies, packs a suitcase, and spends some time at Wohan Retail headquarters, where he clicks through the many termination notices he’s issued over the years and presumably regrets all his life choices.
Baek-ho’s unexpected presence at HQ has Ki-se’s spidey senses tingling, and he correctly deduces that Baek-ho has told Mi-kyung the truth. So what does Ki-se do? Well, against his own better judgement, he calls Mi-kyung to check on her and see how she took the news. (Spoiler: not well, Ki-se, and you are probably the last person who should be contacting her in the situation since you had an arguably larger role in making her life at Wohan Retail miserable six years ago. But I digress…)
However, Ki-se’s highly inappropriate phone call serves a larger purpose. He discovers Mi-kyung has made herself sick from the emotional stress, which means Baek-ho then finds out, too, which also means he returns to USB Guesthouse to prepare her some comfort food. Mi-kyung tries to return the abalone porridge, reiterating her earlier request that he ignore her, but Baek-ho, who’s been silently suffering in his own personal hell, cracks. He can’t stand knowing she’s sick, and he hates feeling helpless to do anything to take care of her. Mi-kyung softens just enough to accept the porridge.
Although the first half of our finale is rife with breakup angst, Ong-ju, Hwan-kyung, and the Potato Gang are still around to help lighten the mood, but not all of them are completely removed from the events of six years ago. No, it’s been hinted that our beloved Ong-ju played a bit part in Mi-kyung and Ki-se’s breakup, and ever since Mi-kyung and Baek-ho fought, Ong-ju has been wrestling with her own guilt and fear that Mi-kyung will abandon her, too, if she finds out the truth. Mi-kyung senses something is off with her best friend, and after some needling, Ong-ju confesses she knew Ki-se was cheating on Mi-kyung long before Mi-kyung found out. She coincidentally ran into Ki-se when he and Hee-jin were wedding dress shopping, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Mi-kyung what she witnessed and be the bearer of bad news. However, in hindsight, Ong-ju wishes she’d told Mi-kyung and spared her the pain and fallout she’d experienced at Wohan Retail.
The ease with which Mi-kyung forgives Ong-ju for her past omission is, in my opinion, extremely problematic because it highlights glaring inconsistencies in Mi-kyung’s logic — specifically, where she draws the line when it comes to personal betrayals. When Mi-kyung found out Ong-ju and Hwan-kyung were dating, she refused to stay in the same house as them. In contrast, in a matter of minutes she was able to forgive and forget the fact that her best friend actively chose to hide her boyfriend’s affair and pending marriage from her, which is not only a direct violation of girl code but objectively a greater betrayal than say — oh, I don’t know — a nameless, faceless HR employee doing as his boss instructed and firing her. Honestly, this could have been a great catalyst for Mi-kyung to do a little self-reflection and analyze why she can forgive Ong-ju but not Baek-ho, thus leading to a thoughtful reconciliation between our OTP. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened (but more on that later).
In the meantime, Hee-jin shows up randomly at USB Guesthouse because Baek-ho has been ignoring her calls, and while he is not in the mood to entertain her, he sets aside his own grumpiness to run interference so Mi-kyung doesn’t come face-to-face with yet another reminder of what happened six years ago. As they settle into their dinner at a pojangmacha, Baek-ho asks Hee-jin directly: Did you know Ki-se had a girlfriend? The answer: not initially, but she found out when he returned to South Korea and tried to call off their relationship.
While Hee-jin was, for a brief period of time, another victim of Ki-se’s lies, it’s disappointing to know that the existence of Ki-se’s girlfriend back in South Korea did not stop Hee-jin from fiercely pursuing him because, according to her, when you love someone the only thing you fear is losing them. Baek-ho can agree with this sentiment; however, a line is distinctly drawn between them over how they reacted to said fear. Hee-jin made poor, morally objectionable choices in order to protect her heart, but Baek-ho risked his heart in order to tell Mi-kyung the truth about what happened six years ago.
It’s a shame that Hee-jin, one of my favorite characters, turned out to be an active participant in Ki-se’s infidelity, but I believe we’re supposed to share Baek-ho’s conflicted sadness because, even though it’s never explicitly said or shown, Hee-jin and Baek-ho’s friendship is unlikely to recover from this moment. He can’t remain Hee-jin’s friend and have any hope of a future with Mi-kyung.
And speaking of a future with Mi-kyung, we can thank a (thematically appropriate) potato emergency for the beginning of the end of Mi-kyung and Baek-ho’s separation. After 500 tons of potatoes were improperly stored and discarded, the Potato Gang scrambles to buy up stock from local farmers in order to make up for the huge deficit. Much to Mi-kyung’s annoyance, Baek-ho pairs himself with her as they go from farm to farm buying up potatoes. She assumes he has some sort of ulterior motive for assigning himself as her partner, but she’s at a loss for words when he explains, very logically, that her extensive knowledge in potato farming makes up for his shortcomings.
The compliment momentarily stuns Mi-kyung into silence, but after Baek-ho gallantly uses his body to shield her from a falling ladder, she’s itching for another fight. As they go back and forth, both of them yelling but neither of them truly mad, eventually Mi-kyung reveals that she never wanted to end her relationship with Baek-ho. She expected him, as he’d said he’d do the night of his confession, to beg and try to change her mind, which is why she felt blindsided and betrayed when he announced to the whole lab that they’d broken up. (Uhmmmm… say what now?)
No, Mi-kyung didn’t explicitly state that she wanted to break up with Baek-ho, but her actions and words definitely suggested that the relationship is over. I can’t fault Baek-ho from drawing that conclusion and then respecting the boundaries that she seemingly established. So her holding it against Baek-ho that he “gave up immediately after [she] got mad once” suggests that she was testing him, and that kind of juvenile behavior doesn’t sit right with me. I fully believe Mi-kyung has every reason to feel conflicted and question whether or not she can be with Baek-ho, but — to reference what I said earlier — the writers really fumbled the ball on this one by going the miscommunication and childish dating games route. There was ample opportunity for Mi-kyung to examine her feelings and gradually come to terms with the fact that Baek-ho’s role in what happened six years ago was minor (comparatively) and not insurmountable.
As it is, though, the Potato Gang locks our OTP together in a freezer so their forced proximity compels them to have an open discussion about their feelings. Baek-ho is desperate and more than willing to beg her for forgiveness, and after seeing the tears in his eyes and the blood from his injury trickling down his face, Mi-kyung finally gives Baek-ho the floor to explain himself. We already know the gist of what he did six years ago, but the new, more important takeaway is that he’s ashamed of his cold, data-driven approach to his job. He’s realized that he’s done some callous things on behalf of Wohan Retail, and he apologizes to Mi-kyung for the cold and calculated way he forced her to resign from Wohan Retail.
By the time the potato lab ajummas open the freezer door and rescue Mi-kyung and Baek-ho, they are in a better place relationship-wise. She hasn’t fully forgiven him, but she’s provided him with a road map back to her heart. In short, he needs to be charmingly persistent (easy peasy for a spud like Baek-ho), and when she can finally look at him and smile, she will be ready to date him again. However, now that Baek-ho knows he’s supposed to pester and pursue Mi-kyung, it’s not long before he woos her. All it takes is the successful negotiation of a large potato purchase for the lab, some lunch, a flash of collar bone, and — bam! — just like that, Mi-kyung and Baek-ho are having their first sleepover. (Dawww… the way they were cuddling the next morning makes my heart squee!)
The speed at which Baek-ho worms his way back into Mi-kyung’s good graces is impressive, but his personal growth during this period of time is more thematically inspirational. You see, now that Baek-ho has seen how his work at Wohan Retail hurts others, he struggles to return to the company fold when tasked with another downsizing project. The cold, impersonal dining hall is a stark contrast to the liveliness of the potato lab cafeteria, and the isolation leads him to the depressing conclusion that Ki-se is the closest thing he has to a friend in Seoul. (Yeesh, way to set the bar low on that one, Baek-ho).
Ki-se is not a redeemable character, in my book, but I do think the drama does a wonderful job of humanizing him and Hee-jin. I, like Mi-kyung, don’t forgive them for their mistakes, but it’s nice that we get to see them maturing. Hee-jin, for her part, realizes she needs to stop clinging to her one-sided love for Ki-se, and she convinces her mother to allow them to publicize their divorce. Obviously, Ki-se is forced to resign after this, but it’s time for him to have a fresh start and build a new career with his own skills. And speaking of a fresh start…
Even though Mi-kyung doesn’t ask Baek-ho to quit his job at Wohan Retail, he submits his resignation in order to start a new life with her at USB Guesthouse. Metaphorically, his decision allows Baek-ho and Mi-kyung’s relationship to restart on a clean slate, as Baek-ho completely separates himself from the life and career that brought Mi-kyung so much pain in the past. For the story and for the sake of our OTP’s relationship, this move makes sense, but, objectively speaking, it’s more than a bit of a gamble for him to completely nuke his career for a woman he’s known for approximately 30 days. And yet, despite the risk, it doesn’t feel like he’s losing much (outside of a hefty paycheck) because — and this ties into a bigger issue I have with this drama — the writers never really explain why Baek-ho was supposedly so loyal to Wohan Retail.
There’s always been this underlying sense that Baek-ho is indebted to Hee-jin’s family and that, perhaps, they were like a found family to him, but the writers were extremely stingy with the details of Baek-ho’s backstory. Without knowing the extent of his connection to Hee-jin’s family or why his loyalty led to him blindly following Se-jin’s orders six years ago, Baek-ho’s resignation seems rather anticlimactic. Maybe I’m asking too much of this rom-com, but I think the first couple of episodes would have been better spent on backstory and characterization than potato contests and petty revenge.
As it is, though, Mi-kyung and Baek-ho share their last day at Potato Lab together, and it’s a day of celebration because the team sincham, whose parents are a really big deal in the farming community, secured the remaining potatoes that the lab needed to make up for their deficit. In other good news, the former chief of Potato Lab shared the variety of potato that Mi-kyung has been growing in her free time with the Rural Development Administration, and they think her potatoes have potential. All in all, our lead characters might be unemployed, but they are in a happy place heading into our finale time skip.
Three years later, Ong-ju’s fatty liver diagnosis tricks Mi-kyung into (momentarily) thinking her best friend is pregnant with her niece or nephew, so needless to say, USB Guesthouse is as lively and loud as ever — even more so now that Baek-ho has moved into the main house (or, more specifically, Mi-kyung’s bedroom) and taken over the financial management of USB Guesthouse. His relationship with Mi-kyung is as strong as ever, so much so that Mi-kyung doesn’t mind being late to her grad school class in order to squeeze in some morning hanky-panky into her busy schedule.
Although Mi-kyung and Baek-ho no longer work for Potato Lab, we still get a mini reunion because Mi-kyung is, in her own words, a “potato career woman,” and Baek-ho is, in addition to being CFO of the guesthouse, the Vice Supervisor Daeseolryeong Potato Crop Team. As we saw at the start of The Potato Lab, the potato gang is pitching a new variety of potato (the Maroo!) to local farmers for the upcoming planting season. Mi-kyung and Baek-ho show up fashionably late wearing matching black suits and sunglasses, and this time Mi-kyung is the one stubbornly haggling with Potato Lab over the cost of potatoes. At her side, Baek-ho calmly points out all the ways Potato Lab is spending excessively, something they really shouldn’t be doing, especially since Wohan Retail’s revenue has been decreasing ever since he left the company. And with that, our potato couple gets their happy ending
Overall, like the rest of The Potato Lab, our drama finale scores high for entertainment and romance, but it loses points for gaps in the storytelling and character development. As you all know, I wasn’t expecting much from this drama when I started it, but it quickly became my favorite currently airing rom-com. The comedy was laugh-out-loud funny and meme-able, and the romance was swoony and as spicy as a K-drama can get without being heavily fined by the network police.
Unfortunately, even though this drama took my sub-ground-level bar and raised it, it was ironically raised to a height that this drama was unable to reach. The more I grew to love this drama, the more I expected from it. I wanted a fleshed out backstory for our leading man, consistent character logic, and some follow-through for all the little details dropped in dialogue that were never addressed again. (I’m looking at you, random comment about “kids” and Mi-kyung and Hwan-kyung’s MIA middle sister.)
In a lot of ways, The Potato Lab feels like a call back to the days when Korean dramas were being filmed simultaneously while they were airing on television, when writers scrambled to rewrite their stories to adjust for ratings. After the first four episodes of The Potato Lab, it’s almost like the writers began dishing out heaping doses of fanservice and forgot, until the last three episodes, to come back to the meat of the story. Unfortunately, by that point, there wasn’t enough time to cram in everything that needed to be covered. But you know what? It’s still a way better romance than Twilight When the Stars Gossip.
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