First Day of Work in Six Weeks

I signed a contract that says I work 5 days a week and every other Saturday, but verbally we agreed that I'd work only 3 days a week, and no Saturdays. I was able to remain firm on the last, mostly because the HR guy had decided that resignation about the obnoxious ways of Ugly Americans was his best recourse.

In an already defeated tone of voice, he asked again if I could come in on Saturdays, so I smiled and shook my head. With the body language of a whipped dog, he then asked if I'd be willing to take work home with me, and having already agreed to that, I said, "Yes."

As he walked me to my old desk, I promised not to tell anyone about the wage agreement (they ARE going to pay the same salary as before, for half the time), but man, oh man, I felt bad for the guy, and bad for being the demanding American. It didn't help that later in the afternoon, the obnoxious woman on the team whose office is where my desk is located said in a loud, merry voice: "It must be nice to be able to work a few months and then take vacation for a month! Here in Korea, that's unheard of."

"Ditto in America," I replied.

"Really?" she said, eyes widening. "Americans don't do that either, eh? So maybe it's only Americans that come to Korea who are lucky enough to do that!"

Thanks for pointing that out, lady. I feel bad enough for taking advantage of the system. I know I'm lucky, okay? But I try to be humble and appreciative. I don't have to deny myself the opportunities at my reach in order not to offend you.

In all other respects, being back at the office was just like old times. People did make a bit of a fuss about how I look different, and that confidence thing popped up again, allowing for a short, lively conversation with one member of the Korean Studies team (with whom I exchanged a total of 10 words during the year) about Southeast Asia, an area we both have interest in. He's responsible for managing Korean Studies development in that area, so he's been to Vietnam a few times, and said he became interested in the area because of the participation of Korean troops in the Vietnam War.

Yeah, did you know that? I only know that because of a video that J and I rented two years ago in DC. The quality of the movie and the video was terrible, so we gave up on watching it, but it woke me up to the fact that Korean troops were there, at the request of the U.S., and that Korean veterans of the Vietnam War suffered similar post-traumatic illnesses (not to mention illnesses from the chemicals used) as American veterans. At that time, the president of Korea (who was really a military dictator, when it comes down to it) supported a massive anti-communist campaign, so people then were really heavily indoctrinated to believe that communism was evil. I guess that's why, only 10 or 15 years after the Korean War left Korea devastated, so many Korean troops got sent to another conflict.

The guy I talked with today said that there was talk now of apologizing to Vietnam, for coming over and killing so many innocents.

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Childhood Memories

And one last, humorous blurb: in class yesterday, we talked about childhood memories, and the naughty things we did as kids. The Japanese girl I talked with, Yoko, said that when she was six, she got into a fight with her sister, and so wrote a note addressed to her that said, "[Name of sister] is a stupidhead," and signed it with the name of one of her sister's friends.

Well, Yoko's sister took the note to the teacher, and the end result was that Yoko and her mother went to the friend's house and apologized to the friend for defamation.

I laughed SO hard at that story. It's just funny to think of Yoko, who appears to be a gentle, modest schoolteacher, doing this devious deed at age six.

Almost as funny is my own six-year-old-deed story, of when I went to the store with my dad and, at the checkout counter, stole a chocolate. I think it was Chunky. Silver package, red letters? Anyhoo, I knew it was wrong, I just figured someone would see me and stop me. And, like most kids, I wanted to see if I could get away with it. (It was all about challenging the capitalist system, actually. Giving the finger to authority. You know, the usual six-year-old stuff.)

Well, I got out of the store with my Chunky, and I started feeling bad. I said to my dad, "Uh, dad, look what I have."

"Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"Uhhh, at the storrrre."

I have the feeling that the traditional American parent response would have been to make me go back to the store to return it and apologize, plus have the store owner impress upon me that only bad people steal. But my dad, being Korean and a rather unusual one at that, just laughed. He did make me throw the chocolate away, which I was a bit loathe to do (wasteful! wasteful! even at that age, I was cheapskate). But I'm sure that Chunky would have gotten stuck on the Lump of Guilty Conscience in my throat anyway.