This is my co-founder Hochun's story. He met Jong Pil Kim last week while walking around Los Angeles with a box of our chips. In Hochun's words:

I met Jong Pil Kim by accident. I was walking around LA all day with a box of chips, trying to get people to try the snack my friend and I made. I hadn't eaten since morning. He saw me, sat me down, and fed me a full Korean meal. He wouldn't take anything for it.

Later he told me why. "Honestly, the way things are right now, I probably would have chased you away. I'm struggling too much. But when I saw you carrying that box, I remembered myself when I first came here."

Six years ago, at 43, Jong Pil left his office job in Korea, sold everything he had, and came to Los Angeles with his wife and two sons. They had no relatives and no friends here. His dream was simple: to open a real Korean restaurant that feels like a home-cooked holiday meal.

He didn't know where to buy meat or supplies, and his English was limited. So he waited in other restaurants' parking lots for a week, following delivery trucks to ask for supplier phone numbers. He walked into meat companies with no appointment. He and his wife painted the walls and hung the lights themselves, staying up all night, because they couldn't afford to hire anyone.

The day after they signed the lease, COVID hit. Construction took two and a half years, and they paid rent the entire time. As foreign business owners, they were not eligible for government relief or business loans. They put in everything they had.

Since then, they've been through COVID, rising prices, and the LA fires. Sales have been cut in half. They are still paying back rent and taxes from the COVID years in installments. Altogether, they owe around $1 million.

Today, Jong Pil starts driving Uber at 6 a.m., before his kids go to school. At 4 p.m. he goes to the restaurant to get ready for dinner. When it's slow, he goes back out to drive again. He gets home around midnight or 1 a.m. He told me the only time his stress goes away is when he looks at his sons sleeping.

His younger son came to America in elementary school and was teased for three years because he couldn't speak English. He never told his parents, because he knew how hard things already were for them. Three years later, he finally told them, crying. Today he has friends and loves his school.

Because the family is in the U.S. on a business basis, if the restaurant closes, they would have to leave the country. And they have nothing left to go back to in Korea.

Right now, they need at least $50,000 to make it through this month's tax deadline on November 15 and keep the restaurant open.

Even now, he thinks about his customers first. "Many of my customers became my friends. I don't have friends in America, but I made them here. I'm scared I might not see them again."

When he gives his Uber riders a ride, he tells them, "Because of you, I smiled one more time today." Five of those riders have since come to eat at his restaurant.

He fed a stranger when he had almost nothing. Let's help him keep his doors open.

Every dollar goes directly to Jong Pil Kim to pay the restaurant's taxes and rent.

MUN Korean Steakhouse, 3519 W 6th St, Los Angeles, CA 90020

If you're in LA, the best way to help is also to go eat there.