This as-told-to narrative originates from an in-depth conversation with David Chung, the owner and chairman of Amare Global. The discussion has been thoughtfully edited and refined for both length and clarity, ensuring that the spirit and authenticity of his story remain intact while offering readers a coherent and engaging experience.
I still recall my astonishment at discovering a simple banana resting on the kitchen table. In Korea, where I spent my early years, bananas were considered almost a luxury—rare, special, and not easily accessible. They symbolized abundance, a kind of affluence that most ordinary families rarely encountered. But when I immigrated to New York City at the age of twelve, my perception of plenty shifted in an instant. Suddenly, fruit was readily available, and there were even treats like M&Ms. To a child who had grown up with so little, these small things—brightly colored candies, fresh fruit sitting casually on the counter—felt astonishingly extravagant. It was as if I had stepped into a world overflowing with luxury.
My mother and I began our new life together in New York. In 1963, she arrived in the United States with barely one hundred dollars to her name, carrying little more than determination, resilience, and unwavering hope. Once settled, she opened a modest mom-and-pop gift shop—humble at first, but the kind of business that demanded endless hours and relentless commitment. Over time, through sheer perseverance, she managed not only to sustain the store but also to expand it, eventually earning her green card and establishing a secure foothold in this new country. Roughly eight years after her arrival, I joined her during the bitter chill of a New York winter. Though I did not understand the language and everything felt foreign, I felt profoundly grateful just to be in America, a place that represented opportunity and boundless possibility.
Watching my mother’s diligence and ingenuity shaped the trajectory of my own ambitions. As her shop prospered, she ventured into new horizons, transforming her small retail store into a combined drugstore and pharmacy—an impressive expansion that demonstrated her natural business intuition. By the early 2000s, that enterprise was worth tens of millions, a testament to the power of sustained effort and entrepreneurial courage. She was truly visionary and remarkably industrious, and I can confidently say that her example continues to guide me even now. The older I become, the more I recognize her influence in my own life. At sixty-six, I often catch myself thinking, half in awe and half in amusement, “I’ve become exactly like my mother!” The resemblance is uncanny—and perhaps a little intimidating.
Her success created the foundation upon which my own career would later rest. By working in her shop, I began to understand the potential embedded within the beauty industry. I realized that cosmetics represented an exceptional business opportunity: the products are typically small, conveniently packaged, and therefore inexpensive to warehouse and ship. Furthermore, because they are consumable, customers return repeatedly, guaranteeing steady, recurring demand. Even when the economy weakens, people are reluctant to forgo caring for their skin. That observation illuminated a path that would define much of my future professional life.
Though I attended college and completed a degree in engineering, my attention often drifted toward business ideas. I found myself constantly preoccupied with concepts for new ventures, to the point that studying became secondary to brainstorming. Even now, the pattern persists—I rarely drive myself because when I’m behind the wheel, my mind inevitably wanders into strategic planning and business ideas. I prefer having a driver so I can let my thoughts flow freely. My first significant leap into entrepreneurship came at the age of twenty-three. Near my university, there was a small video rental store—this was before large national chains like Blockbuster dominated the market. I saw an opportunity, purchased that little store, and began to innovate. Gradually, I expanded the product selection, introducing gifts and cosmetics alongside the videos. That modest beginning marked the start of my lifelong career as an entrepreneur.
From that moment on, I never worked for anyone other than myself. While this independence granted me freedom, it also meant that I had to learn the hard way. There were no mentors guiding me through the complexities of organizational structure, no corporate systems laid out for me to follow. Every process, every misstep, and every refinement became a personal lesson in how to build and sustain a company.
As the decades advanced, my career evolved from simple retail operations into more sophisticated arenas—research, product design, and large-scale manufacturing. Each move was deliberate, shaped by an ongoing curiosity about how to create value in new ways. In 2018, I sold my stake in one of my companies for $53.7 million. A few years later, in 2021, I sold another enterprise, Farmacy Beauty, for hundreds of millions of dollars—an achievement I am legally unable to quantify precisely but which stands among the most significant milestones of my career. I vividly remember sitting at my computer on the final day of that year, watching the transaction complete as the funds flowed into my account. Strikingly, I felt no surge of emotion. There was no excitement, no sudden sense of wealth or triumph. I didn’t even treat myself to a celebratory dinner. The experience, though transformative on paper, left me oddly calm. For me, entrepreneurship has never been driven by the pursuit of money. It has consistently been about the exhilaration of creating something new, of seeing an idea take shape in the real world.
I recall an early moment in my professional journey when I was in a room surrounded by people whose academic credentials far exceeded mine. The conversation turned to business strategy, and I proposed an idea that none of them had considered. That experience marked a revelation—it showed me that I think differently, that creativity and insight can match or even transcend formal education. That realization became a cornerstone of my confidence as an innovator.
Today, I possess more wealth than I could ever feasibly spend in my lifetime, yet my motivations remain the same. When the large payments from the sale of my companies arrived, my first instinct was not to indulge in luxury. I didn’t purchase a high-end watch or an extravagant car. Instead, I invested in yet another business venture—an endeavor that would challenge my creativity and keep me engaged. The thrill, for me, lies not in ownership but in the process of constructing something meaningful from the ground up.
Recently, I told one of my employees that I planned to retire within three years. She burst out laughing and reminded me that I had said the same thing fifteen years earlier. Her reaction was fair—it’s true that retirement doesn’t come naturally to me. I doubt I will ever walk away from entrepreneurship completely. I believe that God has blessed me with a distinct talent for understanding business—an intuitive grasp of how ideas become enterprises—and I feel an obligation to use that gift for as long as I am able.
Much of that philosophy I inherited from my mother. She believed deeply in giving back, particularly to the Korean American community that supported and embraced her when she first arrived in the United States. That commitment to service continues to guide my actions. I remind myself that the more wealth I generate, the greater the potential I have to contribute to others—to invest in communities, to create opportunities, and to uphold the same generous spirit that defined my mother’s life. For me, building wealth has never been an end in itself; rather, it is a means to amplify the good one can do in the world.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/sold-company-for-hundreds-millions-but-still-cant-stop-working-2025-12
