Applying for government grants felt like preparing for a mid-term exam I was going to fail anyway

Watching the application portal load

I spent last Tuesday staring at the screen for the Jeonju Women’s Human Resources Development Center application. It felt strange to be sitting there with a cup of lukewarm coffee, trying to frame my tiny idea for a custom soap business into something that sounded like a professional growth marketing plan. The government startup grant program, or the ‘2026 Women’s Re-challenge Academy’ as they call it, sounded almost too official for what I was doing. I had a box of fragrance oils and some basic soap nets sitting on my kitchen table, and suddenly I was supposed to have a 3-year vision. It’s funny how a few hundred dollars of ingredients make you feel like you’re actually running a company, until you’re forced to write a business proposal that uses words like ‘synergy’ and ‘market saturation’.

Trying to make sense of the industry hype

Every time I opened a news tab to look for inspiration, I was hit with headlines about K-beauty exports reaching 4 trillion won. It felt like I was running a lemonade stand while everyone else was talking about international logistics and seed rounds. I read about companies like 6pence getting 2 billion won in funding, and honestly, it just made me feel exhausted. I wasn’t trying to capture the global market. I just wanted to figure out if I could sell a decent exfoliating sponge or a face wash bar without losing my mind. There’s a massive gap between the stories of corporate-backed beauty brands and the reality of sitting in a small room trying to figure out which fragrance oil actually smells like something a real person would want on their face.

The reality of the supply chain struggle

I went to a local supply shop to see if I could find better packaging. It wasn’t a glamorous place. It reminded me of those older shops that sell everything from stuffed toys—the kind you’d see in a crane game—to cheap air hockey sets and bulk kitchen supplies like a random grandmother’s noodle shop might have. I spent maybe 50,000 won on various nets and wrapping materials, just to see what worked. Standing there in the aisle, I felt a bit out of place. Most of the people there were probably buying supplies for their own shops or restaurants, not someone like me who is still just ‘planning’ to launch. It’s a strange feeling, being in that limbo state where you’re spending money like a business owner but you’re still just an amateur with a hobby that’s gotten slightly out of hand.

Why the big brand strategies don’t fit

I look at how big brands talk about ‘AI-integrated beauty devices’ or ‘unified formula and hardware systems’ like the ones coming out of the Kyungpook National University incubator, and I realize I’m nowhere near that level. I don’t have a lab. I don’t have a team. I don’t even have a clear answer on whether I should pursue a professional aesthetic license or just sell simple soap through an online market. Sometimes I think about those ads for real estate agency franchises or the way Baskin Robbins headquarters manages their stores, and I wonder if I’m just making this way harder than it needs to be. Maybe the most practical step isn’t a government grant or a complex marketing strategy. Maybe it’s just finishing this batch of soap.

Living with the uncertainty

I still haven’t submitted the final version of that grant application. Every time I hit the preview button, I find a new reason to change a sentence. It’s not that the requirements are impossible; it’s that they ask for a level of confidence I don’t quite feel yet. I’m not sure if I’m actually building a brand or just procrastinating on a ‘real’ job. My living room still smells faintly of citrus and floral notes, and I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing. I suppose I’ll keep adjusting the proposal until the deadline passes, or maybe I’ll just stop pretending I’m a founder and just sell a few bars to my friends instead. The uncertainty is annoying, but for now, it’s all I have.