검색결과 총 2건
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SKT 뉴스룸, AX·CX 변화 기록하는 'Good Change' 캠페인 전개
[경제일보] SK텔레콤 뉴스룸이 인공지능 전환(AX)과 고객 가치 혁신(CX) 과정을 기록하는 ‘Good Change’ 캠페인을 전개한다. AI를 통한 일하는 방식의 변화와 고객 신뢰 회복 과정을 외부 전문가, 구성원, 고객의 시선으로 조명하는 장기 프로젝트다. SK텔레콤은 뉴스룸을 통해 ‘Good Change’ 캠페인을 9월까지 진행한다고 18일 밝혔다. 이번 캠페인은 정재헌 SK텔레콤 CEO가 지난 4월 취임 6개월 타운홀 미팅에서 강조한 “AX를 통한 일하는 방식의 혁신과 CX를 통한 고객 신뢰 회복” 메시지를 구체적인 실천 사례로 보여주는 데 초점을 맞췄다. SKT 뉴스룸도 해당 캠페인이 AX와 CX가 기업 문화를 바꾸고 고객 신뢰를 회복하는 과정을 기록하는 프로젝트라고 설명했다. 캠페인은 크게 세 가지 축으로 구성된다. 외부 전문가의 시각을 담은 ‘Insight’, 실제 변화를 만들어가는 구성원을 조명하는 ‘Makers’, 고객이 직접 참여하는 이벤트 시리즈다. ‘Insight’ 시리즈에서는 AI 전문가와 고객신뢰 위원회 위원 등이 참여해 AI 전환과 고객 신뢰 회복에 대한 다양한 관점을 제시한다. AX 분야에서는 글로벌 AI 전략과 기업 변화 방향을 다루고, CX 분야에서는 고객 신뢰 회복의 의미와 방향성을 짚는다. SK텔레콤은 지난해 5월 고객 신뢰 회복을 위해 외부 전문가로 구성된 고객신뢰 위원회를 출범시킨 바 있다. 고객신뢰 위원회는 고객 의견을 듣고 SKT의 고객 신뢰 향상 방안을 검증·자문하는 역할을 맡고 있다. 신종원 고객신뢰 위원회 위원은 뉴스룸 기고에서 고객의 목소리를 듣는 것이 신뢰 회복의 출발점이라고 강조했다. ‘Makers’ 시리즈는 현장에서 AX와 CX 변화를 실행하는 구성원들의 이야기를 담는다. SKT는 ‘1인 1 AI 에이전트’ 전략 아래 구성원이 자신의 업무에 맞는 AI 에이전트를 설계·활용할 수 있는 환경을 확대하고 있다. 에이닷 비즈, 폴라리스, 플레이그라운드 등 다양한 플랫폼을 기반으로 한 업무 혁신 사례도 소개할 예정이다. 이번 캠페인은 SKT가 추진 중인 AX 사업 방향과도 맞닿아 있다. 정재헌 CEO는 취임 6개월 타운홀 미팅에서 AI를 미래 성장의 핵심 축으로 삼고, B2B 사업 전담 조직 신설과 AI 데이터센터 사업 조직 확대 등 AX 전환을 본격 추진하겠다고 밝힌 바 있다. CX 분야에서는 고객 접점 현장의 변화 사례를 지속적으로 다룬다. SKT는 창립기념일을 맞아 임원과 고객신뢰위원회 위원들이 현장을 찾아 고객 불편과 요구를 직접 듣는 활동을 진행한 바 있다. 당시 정재헌 CEO는 시니어 고객을 대상으로 보이스피싱 예방 교육과 통신 서비스 상담을 진행했다. 참여형 이벤트는 고객이 직접 SKT에 기대하는 변화와 개선 아이디어를 남기는 방식으로 운영된다. 고객이 서비스 이용 과정에서 느낀 경험과 의견을 전달하면, 이를 향후 변화 과정에 반영한다는 취지다. AI 활용 사례 공모전도 진행해 업무, 육아, 학습, 취미 등 일상에서 AI로 변화를 경험한 고객 사례를 모집할 예정이다. SKT는 이번 캠페인을 통해 AI를 어렵고 낯선 기술이 아니라 실제 생활과 업무를 바꾸는 도구로 전달한다는 계획이다. 또 AX와 CX 변화 과정을 뉴스룸 콘텐츠로 축적해 고객 공감과 브랜드 신뢰를 높이겠다는 구상이다. 이번 캠페인은 기업 커뮤니케이션 방식에서도 의미가 있다. 완성된 결과만 알리는 방식이 아니라 변화의 과정과 내부 실행 사례, 고객 의견을 함께 기록하는 구조이기 때문이다. AI 전환과 고객 신뢰 회복이 단기간에 완성되기 어려운 과제인 만큼, 지속적인 공개와 피드백이 신뢰 형성의 핵심이 될 수 있다. SK텔레콤 관계자는 “Good Change는 완성된 결과보다 변화의 과정 자체에 주목하는 캠페인”이라며 “앞으로도 고객 가치 혁신과 AI 전환의 다양한 순간들을 지속 기록해 나갈 예정”이라고 말했다.
2026-05-18 10:32:08
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Lessons in Leadership from the Classics | Chapter 4: Nvidia
The Patience and the Ascent of Jensen Huang How the Alleyways of Korea and the Floors of Semiconductor Factories Forged the Aesthetics of 古枯孤高 [Economy Daily] At the beating heart of the civilizational upheaval we call artificial intelligence stands one company and one man: Nvidia and Jensen Huang. The world measures them in market capitalization and market share. But the deeper truth of great leadership outlasts any number. It is the power of time, long and unhurried. It is the discipline of subtraction. It is the courage of solitude. And it is, finally, the dignity that comes only from having endured. In the vocabulary of East Asian philosophy, these four qualities compress into a single phrase: 古枯孤高 — ancient (古), austere (枯), solitary (孤), elevated (高). Nvidia's rise is not the story of a stock that spiked overnight. It is the story of these four characters slowly calcifying into the bones of one man and the culture of one company, across thirty years of painstaking accumulation. 古 — The Ancient: Time as the First Discipline Every great enterprise, if it is truly great, eventually earns its face — but only through time. Jensen Huang had been walking this earth as a businessman long before the world knew his name. His relationship with Korea begins here, and it begins on foot. According to domestic industry accounts from that era, Huang made repeated visits to Yongsan Electronics Market in Seoul in the late 1990s and early 2000s — when Nvidia was still an obscure startup struggling to be taken seriously. He came not as a visiting dignitary but as a salesman: explaining graphics cards to shop owners, persuading assemblers, winning trust one transaction at a time. Huang himself has said his connection to Korea dates to 1996. He has spoken of how South Korea's explosion of high-speed internet, its PC-bang culture, and the nationwide fever for StarCraft formed a critical foundation for Nvidia's early growth. Korea, in those years, was the world's most electrified laboratory for digital culture — and the heat of its gaming rooms, the sharpness of its consumers, the velocity with which it embraced new technology, all of it nourished a company that had not yet found its footing. This detail matters enormously. The histories of great corporations are often rewritten to begin in gleaming boardrooms or on famous stages. But Jensen Huang's formation happened in narrow storefronts, surrounded by towers of component boxes, in a market where customers were price-sensitive and performance-obsessed and utterly unimpressed by brand mythology. In Yongsan, he did not sell a brand. He sold credibility. He sold product knowledge. He sold the felt experience of superior performance. The I Ching offers an image for this season of a man's life: 潛龍勿用 — "the hidden dragon does not yet act." The dragon submerged beneath the water has not yet ascended to the sky, but it is already gathering strength, already orienting itself toward its direction. Korea was that submerged time for Jensen Huang. It was where the dragon went quiet and grew. 枯 — The Austere: The Discipline of Withholding Austerity is not poverty. It is restraint. And few companies in the history of Silicon Valley have practiced restraint as rigorously or as consequentially as Nvidia. While its competitors raced to win the surface war — chasing specification numbers, upgrading the cosmetics of their products, playing to the gallery of consumer benchmarks — Huang kept his organization's attention trained on something less visible and far more consequential: the underlying architecture of computation, the logic of parallel processing, the infrastructure that would eventually become the indispensable engine of artificial intelligence. This is the aesthetic the Chinese literati call 枯淡 — a beauty that comes not from ornament but from essence. The Diamond Sutra puts it this way: 凡所有相 皆是虛妄 — "all that has form is ultimately illusion." In business terms: what catches the eye rarely determines a company's fate. What determines fate is the capability that cannot be seen. Nvidia understood this early. That is why the Nvidia of today rests not on the appearance of its products but on the depth of its software ecosystem, its developer base, and the intellectual architecture that competitors cannot easily replicate. This philosophy of austerity extends to Huang's understanding of human character. Speaking at Stanford, he told students that the most important trait for success is not intelligence but resilience — and went further, saying, "I hope you will have the experience of suffering and hardship." It is a startling thing to say, and deliberately so. His point is unambiguous: greatness is not the product of cleverness alone. Character is forged not in comfort but in friction. Huang speaks from experience. He has publicly described being bullied in an American boarding school as a boy, washing dishes and cleaning bathrooms at minimum wage. His philosophy of hardship is not rhetoric. It is autobiography. Most organizations today speak to their people endlessly about well-being and are afraid to speak about tempering. But Jensen Huang did not flinch from the uncomfortable truth: growth always requires some degree of resistance and endurance. He knows this in his body. 孤 — The Solitary: The Courage of the Unfashionable Conviction Solitude, properly understood, is not the condition of being alone. It is the willingness to choose a road that others have not taken — and to walk it long enough to find out whether you were right. Nvidia was, for a very long time, a company that received no particular applause. It was known as a graphics chip company, and in that category, it was formidable. But inside that public identity, Huang carried a private and lonely conviction: that the dominant paradigm of computing would shift — that the age of the general-purpose CPU would eventually yield to an age of accelerated computing. Markets demand the present moment. Leaders sometimes have to absorb today's contempt in exchange for tomorrow's vindication. Only those who sustain that solitude earn the right to the rewards of early arrival. The Analects of Confucius puts it plainly: 德不孤 必有隣 — "virtue is never truly alone; it will always find its neighbors." What appears solitary and eccentric at the beginning eventually draws its community. And in the story of Nvidia and Korea, this movement from isolation to alliance is almost perfectly illustrated. The partnership between Huang and South Korea has long since outgrown its origins in retail sales. SK Hynix began collaborating with Nvidia on High Bandwidth Memory in the uncertain early days of that technology — a bet made before the outcome was clear. That relationship has since deepened into something that resembles co-development more than supply chain. Nvidia has been advancing large-scale AI chip supply and infrastructure cooperation with the Korean government, Samsung, the SK Group, Hyundai Motor Group, and Naver. The lonely salesman who once walked the aisles of Yongsan is now at the table with the leaders of Korean industry and government, shaping the architecture of the nation's AI future. The solitary vigil became a strategic alliance. What was once walked alone is now walked together. 高 — The Elevated: Altitude as Accountability Elevation is not merely position. It is character — the capacity to see farther and to hold responsibility longer than others can or will. The Doctrine of the Mean speaks of 至誠無息 — "true sincerity never rests." This is, unexpectedly, one of the most precise descriptions of how Jensen Huang has run his company. He did not build Nvidia on a passing fashion. He crossed product failures, market cynicism, supply chain crises, and geopolitical headwinds, and climbed — slowly, deliberately, one foothold at a time — to the position the company occupies today. This is not a mountain ascended in a season. This is a summit reached in decades. Here, again, Korea re-enters the story. However regal the title "emperor of the AI era" may sound, the circuitry running through that crown is substantially Korean. Korea began as the consumption frontier — the PC-bang, the gaming market, the early adopter culture that gave Nvidia its first mass foothold. It has since become the strategic frontier: the partner in HBM and advanced memory, the co-architect of AI factories and digital transformation. Between the image of Jensen Huang persuading shop owners in Yongsan and the image of Jensen Huang discussing AI infrastructure with the heads of Korea's largest conglomerates, there runs a very long river. But the river is unbroken. What he first saw in Korea was not merely a sales opportunity. He saw a society with an extraordinary capacity for fast technical comprehension, for organizing technology into industry, for connecting the work of the mind to the work of the factory floor. That insight lives inside every partnership he has built here since. A Reckoning for Korean Business What, then, should Korean business leaders take from this? The lesson is not complicated, though it is demanding. Innovation does not arise from eloquent mission statements. It arises from time endured, from the discipline to discard the inessential, from the independence to pursue an unpopular answer, and from the accountability that eventually transforms all of it into something worthy of the word dignity. Jensen Huang's career is not a story of a man who happened to catch the AI wave at the right moment. It is a story of sediment — of years and decades of experience, discipline, and conviction accumulating until they were precisely aligned with the door that history opened. Which asks certain questions of Korean business. Do we still carry the original instinct of those years when we wrestled with the market on the ground floor — when we had no reputation to trade on, only our knowledge and our reliability? Do we have the austere courage to strip away what is not essential? Do we have the nerve to choose the lonely right answer over the popular wrong one? Management, at its best, is completed in the love of people, in the respect for the work done in the field, and in the refusal to defy the logic of time and nature. The tree that grows too fast is hollow at its core. The success that comes too easily has shallow roots. Nvidia — Jensen Huang's Nvidia — took the opposite path. It stood like an ancient tree, silent and unhurried, enduring the winds and the droughts, growing upward alone toward the high place it had decided, long ago, to reach. His success, for that reason, is not a flash of light. It is light that stays. That is the lesson of 古枯孤高. Only those who have endured long enough ascend high enough. Only those who have passed through austerity reach genuine depth. Only those who have borne solitude long enough find themselves, one day, at the center of their age. Jensen Huang's Korean story is one essential thread in that larger narrative. Today's glory is conceived in yesterday's alleyways. Even the history of the world's most powerful technology company is completed, in the end, only on the accumulated sweat and trust of human beings. He is demonstrating that, quietly, every day. The author is a contributing columnist covering business philosophy, technology, and economic history.
2026-04-22 11:57:23