Well my corporate training session is finally over, and for the first time in my life I'm actually looking forward to getting back to work. Maybe that's the point of the whole ordeal.
Instead of continuing to reflect on how absurd and pointless the whole thing was however, I thought I'd end on a happy note (for once). In between meaningless lectures and dispiriting "cultural education", I actually did manage to see some beautiful Korean countryside. I'd never been impressed with the landscape of this country, mostly because every town here, large or small, is a miserable shithole. But the tree-covered hills near Everland (which is Korean Disneyland, and is located 10 minutes from our massive Human Resources center), are actually quite beautiful.
The center itself was also gorgeous. And when they finally let us escape to go visit the corporate sponsored auto-museum, that was quite impressive as well. Apparently our ex-chairman used his ill-gotten gains to buy the company some kickass antique cars. which I must say was money well spent.
So it wasn't all awful, and I learned that there actually are some pretty places in this country. But none of that was enough to compensate me for the stupidity I endured during my training.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Fun Facts about Korea
Just a quick thought while I’m stuck here at work in my little cube with one co-worker in the cubby next to me with his feet propped up on the desk reading the bible and another one behind me snoring so loud that I’ve had to crank up the volume on my headphones: I wonder if these people are at all resentful of living in a society in which you’re pretty much required to stay at work until your boss leaves for the day? I’m resentful of feeling guilty about leaving when my work day is actually supposed to end, abandoning my co-workers to their fate of hours more of pointless face-time.
Here’s a fun Korea fact: last year’s OECD Fact Book ranked Korea first for number of hours worked annually, with each person working an average of 2,357 hours. As a point of reference, the average for the other 29 OECD members was 1,777 hours per person annually. One last fun fact: Korea ranked 23 out of the 30 OECD countries for productivity. Wow, that’s a lot of napping!
It’s 5 pm, and I’m going home.
Here’s a fun Korea fact: last year’s OECD Fact Book ranked Korea first for number of hours worked annually, with each person working an average of 2,357 hours. As a point of reference, the average for the other 29 OECD members was 1,777 hours per person annually. One last fun fact: Korea ranked 23 out of the 30 OECD countries for productivity. Wow, that’s a lot of napping!
It’s 5 pm, and I’m going home.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Also Not For the Faint of Heart in Asia: Commuting
Since we’re on the topic of commutes, I feel the need to submit a description of mine, which must top the list of smelliest commutes ever, if nothing else. I take the bus to work – a 20 minute ride when there’s no traffic, but it usually takes about 40 minutes – not a terribly long commute here in Asia. There are, however, so many things wrong with the rest of the trip that I don’t even really know where to begin.
Let’s start with the most overwhelming aspect of riding the bus in Korea; the smell. As has been pointed out in a prior post, Koreans admittedly shower about twice a week. They also eat the national food, kimchi (a concoction of garlic, red pepper, and cabbage, all fermented for optimal pungency), at every meal. Korean men, in addition to all that, chain smoke, go out drinking with co-workers every night until they pass out in the street (see photo to right), and only own one suit. I’m not really sure that you can even get an idea of what the amalgamation of all those smells is even like, but let me try and paint a picture for you.
Garlic, spice, sweat, and alcohol emanates from people who have not showered since the night before when they drank themselves into oblivion and woke up only to take a few puffs on a cigarette, have a couple mouthfuls of kimchi, and put the same suit from yesterday back on before hopping on the bus. By the time I get on the bus, its packed to the seams with people emitting near-lethal fumes – and the fact that I have showered and brushed my teeth that day suddenly seems a waste of a good thirty minutes of what could have been extra sleep. The bus drivers, wanting to make sure that my commute is always a particularly painful experience, jack up the heat until I can practically see the stench hanging in the air.
What really makes it unbearable is the total refusal by all the rest of the people on the bus to allow me to crack a window and get a breath of fresh air (something that really doesn’t exist in Seoul, but hey, its all relative). On numerous occasions I’ve reached across the person lucky enough to have gotten a seat on the bus and opened the window – just a crack, I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t want to pass out before I get to work – only to have them glare at me and then slam the window shut. Apparently, Koreans don’t like feeling the wind in their hair. Fine. But the refusal to acknowledge that there are other people aside from themselves on the bus who might be feeling a bit stifled is quite extraordinary.
Finally, throw in a bus driver who thinks he’s driving a mini cooper, and you’ve definitely got a recipe for disaster. On a crowded bus the only thing keeping you from being thrown to the ground if you aren’t holding on for dear life is the unlucky person standing next to you. If the bus isn’t crowded, people are routinely thrown off their feet. It’s a commute that would drive a weaker person to quit their job. I’ve merely resorted to moving within walking distance of the office.
Let’s start with the most overwhelming aspect of riding the bus in Korea; the smell. As has been pointed out in a prior post, Koreans admittedly shower about twice a week. They also eat the national food, kimchi (a concoction of garlic, red pepper, and cabbage, all fermented for optimal pungency), at every meal. Korean men, in addition to all that, chain smoke, go out drinking with co-workers every night until they pass out in the street (see photo to right), and only own one suit. I’m not really sure that you can even get an idea of what the amalgamation of all those smells is even like, but let me try and paint a picture for you.
Garlic, spice, sweat, and alcohol emanates from people who have not showered since the night before when they drank themselves into oblivion and woke up only to take a few puffs on a cigarette, have a couple mouthfuls of kimchi, and put the same suit from yesterday back on before hopping on the bus. By the time I get on the bus, its packed to the seams with people emitting near-lethal fumes – and the fact that I have showered and brushed my teeth that day suddenly seems a waste of a good thirty minutes of what could have been extra sleep. The bus drivers, wanting to make sure that my commute is always a particularly painful experience, jack up the heat until I can practically see the stench hanging in the air.
What really makes it unbearable is the total refusal by all the rest of the people on the bus to allow me to crack a window and get a breath of fresh air (something that really doesn’t exist in Seoul, but hey, its all relative). On numerous occasions I’ve reached across the person lucky enough to have gotten a seat on the bus and opened the window – just a crack, I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t want to pass out before I get to work – only to have them glare at me and then slam the window shut. Apparently, Koreans don’t like feeling the wind in their hair. Fine. But the refusal to acknowledge that there are other people aside from themselves on the bus who might be feeling a bit stifled is quite extraordinary.
Finally, throw in a bus driver who thinks he’s driving a mini cooper, and you’ve definitely got a recipe for disaster. On a crowded bus the only thing keeping you from being thrown to the ground if you aren’t holding on for dear life is the unlucky person standing next to you. If the bus isn’t crowded, people are routinely thrown off their feet. It’s a commute that would drive a weaker person to quit their job. I’ve merely resorted to moving within walking distance of the office.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Corporate Training - day 2
I'll keep this one brief, because today was too mind-numbing to be more thoroughly analyzed.
We had 8 hours of presentations today, all on the company's corporate values. 8 hours, and then we made a frigging collage depicting the company values. This place is like a juvenile detention center without the meth.
To add to the absurdity, right around the time that we were getting our second lecture about the importance of integrity, our company chairman was giving a press conference - in which he resigned from office because he was indicted for tax evasion and "breach of trust".
This topic was not addressed in the least, despite the fact that this is the single most important event to happen to this company in the past 20 years.
Whatever, at least we had crayons and star stickers.
We had 8 hours of presentations today, all on the company's corporate values. 8 hours, and then we made a frigging collage depicting the company values. This place is like a juvenile detention center without the meth.
To add to the absurdity, right around the time that we were getting our second lecture about the importance of integrity, our company chairman was giving a press conference - in which he resigned from office because he was indicted for tax evasion and "breach of trust".
This topic was not addressed in the least, despite the fact that this is the single most important event to happen to this company in the past 20 years.
Whatever, at least we had crayons and star stickers.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Corporate Training - Korean Style
My boss is always telling me I need to learn Korean corporate culture, so when I told HR to take their week long "training" session and shove it up their Kimchi pots, he did not approve. He told me it was a requirement, and seemed to honestly believe I would learn something.
Well day one down, and I have indeed learned something: my company training is even more ludicrous than I had imagined, which is a considerable feat considering my expectations.
We began the day with an introduction by some jackass President of the Human Resources Centre. This guy was preceded by a 5 minute powerpoint that simply faded between slides of him shaking hands with people that he thought made him look important. During the show the PA blasted "Can you feel the love tonight" by Elton John...this chump runs a glorified chearleading camp, so i guess he needs all the love he can get.
after lunch we were told to come dressed in excercise gear. we showed up in shorts - this is not what the organizers had in mind. shorts are not allowed. what they meant by "excercise" clothing was unclear even to themselves, because the Kims do not excercise.
anyway an exception was made and we proceeded to spend the next four hours playing some classic corporate team building games. these included jumping rope and a timed volleyball bumping competition. all well and good, except that the whole thing was held in a fucking boardroom. not 20 feet away from us was the most lush garden and soccer field that i have ever seen in this country, and we played volleyball under flourescent lights in a fucking boardroom. When I suggested that we have our sporting excercise outside, I was given the prototypical korean laughing refusal.
Hahaha - why would we do that - hahaha - there is grass out there, and no microphones. Koreans are apparently afraid of grass, and do not generally sit on it unless there is a blanket present.
Once the games were over we had some rather sub par cafeteria dinner before returning to our special teams for group work. It was 7pm, and we'd been doing this stupid shit for almost 12 hours. During group work we were meant to spend 2 hours discussing what made the company special, and then sharing things that made our own country special. By 9pm i was about ready to drop kick somebody through the plate glass windows.
Stay tuned for tomorrow, when I get to sit through 8 hours of presentations on Corporate Values - and then a group "collage". yeehaw
btw, if u dig the blog, please subscribe at the bottom of the page - cheers
Well day one down, and I have indeed learned something: my company training is even more ludicrous than I had imagined, which is a considerable feat considering my expectations.
We began the day with an introduction by some jackass President of the Human Resources Centre. This guy was preceded by a 5 minute powerpoint that simply faded between slides of him shaking hands with people that he thought made him look important. During the show the PA blasted "Can you feel the love tonight" by Elton John...this chump runs a glorified chearleading camp, so i guess he needs all the love he can get.
after lunch we were told to come dressed in excercise gear. we showed up in shorts - this is not what the organizers had in mind. shorts are not allowed. what they meant by "excercise" clothing was unclear even to themselves, because the Kims do not excercise.
anyway an exception was made and we proceeded to spend the next four hours playing some classic corporate team building games. these included jumping rope and a timed volleyball bumping competition. all well and good, except that the whole thing was held in a fucking boardroom. not 20 feet away from us was the most lush garden and soccer field that i have ever seen in this country, and we played volleyball under flourescent lights in a fucking boardroom. When I suggested that we have our sporting excercise outside, I was given the prototypical korean laughing refusal.
Hahaha - why would we do that - hahaha - there is grass out there, and no microphones. Koreans are apparently afraid of grass, and do not generally sit on it unless there is a blanket present.
Once the games were over we had some rather sub par cafeteria dinner before returning to our special teams for group work. It was 7pm, and we'd been doing this stupid shit for almost 12 hours. During group work we were meant to spend 2 hours discussing what made the company special, and then sharing things that made our own country special. By 9pm i was about ready to drop kick somebody through the plate glass windows.
Stay tuned for tomorrow, when I get to sit through 8 hours of presentations on Corporate Values - and then a group "collage". yeehaw
btw, if u dig the blog, please subscribe at the bottom of the page - cheers
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Crown Royal??
Ok, I know this is a Korea blog, but now and then I'll be obliged to vent my frustrations with the US political process. 'Caus no matter how infuriating Korea is, the inanity of my homeland is still a major reason I left it.
Now I'm sure all our US readers are familiar with Obama's poorly chosen, albeit entirely accurate, remarks about poor folks in America. In response Hilary went out and had some beers and a shot to try to pretend she was human.
Who buys that crap? Not only is she clearly from a far more "elite" background than Obama (not that it should matter - before W we used to expect our President to belong to some kind of elite), but the shot she took was CROWN ROYAL scotch! Who the hell drinks crown royal in a Pennsylvania coal mining town?
Somebody please give that android poser a shot of Old Crow!
Now I'm sure all our US readers are familiar with Obama's poorly chosen, albeit entirely accurate, remarks about poor folks in America. In response Hilary went out and had some beers and a shot to try to pretend she was human.
Who buys that crap? Not only is she clearly from a far more "elite" background than Obama (not that it should matter - before W we used to expect our President to belong to some kind of elite), but the shot she took was CROWN ROYAL scotch! Who the hell drinks crown royal in a Pennsylvania coal mining town?
Somebody please give that android poser a shot of Old Crow!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
all lights green
When I was a high school student I used to muse that the metaphor for a perfect afternoon would be a drive home from school in which i managed to hit all the green lights on the way. Yes, I was a bit of a romantic (pansy) back then.
These days I have no car, although I'm contemplating putting my life at serious risk by purchasing a scooter. (The topic of scooters in Korea deserves its own post so I won't get into it now).
since i'm currently scooterless, my miserable hour long morning commute takes me through two different subway lines, with an exciting transfer at Yaksu station. i say exciting because the transfer is like a staged battle, writ in miniature upon the 2 rows of escalators. every day one stop before Yaksu I join the unwashed korean masses (literally - the Kims tend to bathe about twice a week according to most sources) as we jockey for position at the doors of the first car. Once out the door it's a race through the sharp elbows of disgruntled ajumas - what the hell are these old women doing in the subway at 7am??
the reason people must race for the escalator is the train is absurdly deep in the station; climbing the stairs is unthinkable, and within minutes of train arrival some asshole is guaranteed to decide to stand still on the escalator, blocking all others from walking up. so i drop elbows on ajumas to secure my fast-paced ascent towards escalator two. along the way we merge with the phalanx from the other platform, and now it's a battle for position along the left side of the escalator. again this is inspired by the fact that some people will race to the escalator and then stand still as it climbs. apparently they don't really need to get to work, and just wake up at 6am every morning to go for a leisurely subterranean stroll.
now, how does all of this relate to my serene memories of driving home from high school? well the entire experience would be unbearable without my ipod. i'm not trying to be some lame posterchild for the apple generation here, but i think you know what i'm talkin about. however there are of course a variety of moods that i am pushed through during the first hour of my day, ranging from sleepy and calm to warlike. it's impossible to attempt to musically manage these moods while simultaneously fighting the crowd. thus i often put my ipod on shuffle as i walk out the door and hope for the best.
on some mornings, the bizarre apple algorithm is spot on, starting me off with a nice slow piece (say iron and wine), building up as i reach the first station (a little "Albuquerque" by Neil Young) and finally culminating with some ass-kicking old lady-punching music for Yaksu (today it was "California Uber-alles" by DK).
this morning, the ipod delivered - and i beat the slackers up the escalators to boot. as i squeezed onto the six train for my morning's swansong i thought to myself: good job ipod - all lights green on the way to work.
These days I have no car, although I'm contemplating putting my life at serious risk by purchasing a scooter. (The topic of scooters in Korea deserves its own post so I won't get into it now).
since i'm currently scooterless, my miserable hour long morning commute takes me through two different subway lines, with an exciting transfer at Yaksu station. i say exciting because the transfer is like a staged battle, writ in miniature upon the 2 rows of escalators. every day one stop before Yaksu I join the unwashed korean masses (literally - the Kims tend to bathe about twice a week according to most sources) as we jockey for position at the doors of the first car. Once out the door it's a race through the sharp elbows of disgruntled ajumas - what the hell are these old women doing in the subway at 7am??
the reason people must race for the escalator is the train is absurdly deep in the station; climbing the stairs is unthinkable, and within minutes of train arrival some asshole is guaranteed to decide to stand still on the escalator, blocking all others from walking up. so i drop elbows on ajumas to secure my fast-paced ascent towards escalator two. along the way we merge with the phalanx from the other platform, and now it's a battle for position along the left side of the escalator. again this is inspired by the fact that some people will race to the escalator and then stand still as it climbs. apparently they don't really need to get to work, and just wake up at 6am every morning to go for a leisurely subterranean stroll.
now, how does all of this relate to my serene memories of driving home from high school? well the entire experience would be unbearable without my ipod. i'm not trying to be some lame posterchild for the apple generation here, but i think you know what i'm talkin about. however there are of course a variety of moods that i am pushed through during the first hour of my day, ranging from sleepy and calm to warlike. it's impossible to attempt to musically manage these moods while simultaneously fighting the crowd. thus i often put my ipod on shuffle as i walk out the door and hope for the best.
on some mornings, the bizarre apple algorithm is spot on, starting me off with a nice slow piece (say iron and wine), building up as i reach the first station (a little "Albuquerque" by Neil Young) and finally culminating with some ass-kicking old lady-punching music for Yaksu (today it was "California Uber-alles" by DK).
this morning, the ipod delivered - and i beat the slackers up the escalators to boot. as i squeezed onto the six train for my morning's swansong i thought to myself: good job ipod - all lights green on the way to work.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Learning to Think Like a Korean - A Game You Will Never Win
A couple of weeks ago I had a quintessential Korean experience. It started when one of my co-workers, we’ll just call him Mr. Kim, offered to dump his old furniture off on me, as he was getting married and would be refurbishing the new house with less bachelor pad-like orange pleather couches. The grad student in me (I assume she’ll be around until the loans are paid off) jumped at the chance, and we agreed that he would call me the following day after the couches were on the moving truck and ready to be dropped at my apartment – probably around one o’clock or so. The only catch was that I would pay the extra moving fees for having the furniture delivered. Great deal, I thought.
The next day I decide to head home from work – about a 40 minute commute – after lunch, in order to be home for the furniture delivery. One o’clock comes and goes with no word. At two, I call Mr. Kim wondering if everything is still going as planned. Our conversation goes something like this:
“Um, hi, Mr Kim? Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know that I’m waiting here at home so call me when the movers are on the way over, ok?”
“You’re already at home? I thought that you could ride with the movers from work so they could find your apartment.”
“Um, well, I’m already at home. And you didn’t tell me that yesterday.”
“So, then, can you come back here and then ride in the truck back to your place with them so they can find it?”
“Um, no, that doesn’t really make any sense. Why don’t I just tell you my address and you can tell them where to go?”
“But I don’t know where you live”
“Yes, I know that. But if I give you my address, you can look it up on the internet or something. I mean, this is a moving company – how do they usually find people’s homes? Don’t they have a navigation system?”
“Not today”
“Not today? Really? They usually have one, but just not today?”
“Yeah”
SIGH…… “Ok look, I’m going to give you my address. You give it to the movers. Give them my phone number. Tell them to call me if they get lost.”
“But you don’t speak Korean”
“Um, yes, I’m aware of that.”
Thirty minutes later, the movers – or should I say mover – arrives. I go out to meet him. I see the couches – a loveseat and a couch that could seat about five – and realize, oh great, there is no way these are getting through the front door. I ask him in my crappy Korean, “one person? Just you?”. He says yes. Fabulous. I am in my suit and heels, there’s only one mover, and this couch is going to have to go through the window – the one with the prison bars across the front. He seems to have forgotten his power screwdriver, so I sit around while he manually unscrews all the bolts in the prison bars, then yanks out all the screens and windows from the frame and piles them up on the side of the street. Finally I get to help. Somehow I get stuck being the person who has to carry one end of the couch to the open window, prop it up on the frame, run inside and slip my shoes off (no shoes inside!), then guide the couch in through the window and make sure the other end doesn’t fall on my toes as the mover shoves it through from outside the apartment. We manage to successfully get the thing through the window, go through the whole process again with the loveseat, and then I get to relax on my “new” furniture. I sit down, kinda tired and sweaty, and stick to the pleather. Comfy.
Then comes the best part.
“That’ll be sixty bucks”
“What?! Sixty?! That’s absurd. I just moved the damn thing myself – why would I pay you that much?!” (This last part I say in English and he just stares at me).
I don’t really believe that this is a decent price, so I decide to call up Mr Kim and ask his opinion. I update him on the situation and ask him if he thinks sixty is too much to be charged for moving your own furniture. He says,
“Well, but that’s a really nice couch”
“Wait, what? I’m not paying him for the couch, I’m paying him to move the couch. Except that I had to move the couch, so it should be less, see?”
“In Korea, the quality of the furniture matters in the moving fee.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well that’s how it works in Korea.”
SIGH….. “Ok….thanks again for the couch….”
I go outside and continue to plead my case, though he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, with the mover. We stand there arguing in our own languages, getting nowhere, until a nice Korean woman walks by and offers to help. We get the guy down to fifty, and I grudgingly accept, ready to be done with this transaction. I’ve really been doing my best to try and learn to "think" like a Korean (which I really think is a good skill to acquire when living in country as the confusion of everyday life is otherwise astounding), but so far, much of the time, I’m not really sure that’s even what they’re doing.
The next day I decide to head home from work – about a 40 minute commute – after lunch, in order to be home for the furniture delivery. One o’clock comes and goes with no word. At two, I call Mr. Kim wondering if everything is still going as planned. Our conversation goes something like this:
“Um, hi, Mr Kim? Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know that I’m waiting here at home so call me when the movers are on the way over, ok?”
“You’re already at home? I thought that you could ride with the movers from work so they could find your apartment.”
“Um, well, I’m already at home. And you didn’t tell me that yesterday.”
“So, then, can you come back here and then ride in the truck back to your place with them so they can find it?”
“Um, no, that doesn’t really make any sense. Why don’t I just tell you my address and you can tell them where to go?”
“But I don’t know where you live”
“Yes, I know that. But if I give you my address, you can look it up on the internet or something. I mean, this is a moving company – how do they usually find people’s homes? Don’t they have a navigation system?”
“Not today”
“Not today? Really? They usually have one, but just not today?”
“Yeah”
SIGH…… “Ok look, I’m going to give you my address. You give it to the movers. Give them my phone number. Tell them to call me if they get lost.”
“But you don’t speak Korean”
“Um, yes, I’m aware of that.”
Thirty minutes later, the movers – or should I say mover – arrives. I go out to meet him. I see the couches – a loveseat and a couch that could seat about five – and realize, oh great, there is no way these are getting through the front door. I ask him in my crappy Korean, “one person? Just you?”. He says yes. Fabulous. I am in my suit and heels, there’s only one mover, and this couch is going to have to go through the window – the one with the prison bars across the front. He seems to have forgotten his power screwdriver, so I sit around while he manually unscrews all the bolts in the prison bars, then yanks out all the screens and windows from the frame and piles them up on the side of the street. Finally I get to help. Somehow I get stuck being the person who has to carry one end of the couch to the open window, prop it up on the frame, run inside and slip my shoes off (no shoes inside!), then guide the couch in through the window and make sure the other end doesn’t fall on my toes as the mover shoves it through from outside the apartment. We manage to successfully get the thing through the window, go through the whole process again with the loveseat, and then I get to relax on my “new” furniture. I sit down, kinda tired and sweaty, and stick to the pleather. Comfy.
Then comes the best part.
“That’ll be sixty bucks”
“What?! Sixty?! That’s absurd. I just moved the damn thing myself – why would I pay you that much?!” (This last part I say in English and he just stares at me).
I don’t really believe that this is a decent price, so I decide to call up Mr Kim and ask his opinion. I update him on the situation and ask him if he thinks sixty is too much to be charged for moving your own furniture. He says,
“Well, but that’s a really nice couch”
“Wait, what? I’m not paying him for the couch, I’m paying him to move the couch. Except that I had to move the couch, so it should be less, see?”
“In Korea, the quality of the furniture matters in the moving fee.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well that’s how it works in Korea.”
SIGH….. “Ok….thanks again for the couch….”
I go outside and continue to plead my case, though he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, with the mover. We stand there arguing in our own languages, getting nowhere, until a nice Korean woman walks by and offers to help. We get the guy down to fifty, and I grudgingly accept, ready to be done with this transaction. I’ve really been doing my best to try and learn to "think" like a Korean (which I really think is a good skill to acquire when living in country as the confusion of everyday life is otherwise astounding), but so far, much of the time, I’m not really sure that’s even what they’re doing.
Monday, April 14, 2008
No Foolin Kimi
We decided to start this blog on april fools day, because the Korean response to that venerated American tradition really seemed to epitomize all that is bizzarre, sad, and sort of hilarious about this country.
April fools day for koreans consists of teenagers calling the fire department and reporting fake fires...clearly they have missed the point. Being new to the office, as well as the first American on the floor, I felt it beholden upon me to introduce my colleagues to the pleasures of playing pranks on your co-workers (instead of emergency services). They didn't get it.
Koreans have a rather limited sense of humor. They generally only respond to old women - "Ajumas" - screaming at fat people running around in their underpants. This style of comedy is less amusing than it might sound, due in large part to the annoying hi-pitched quality of the ajuma's voices. For people lacking in the humor department Fool's Day is tough, but for the Koreans it presents an almost existential dillema.
While they were aware of the concept of april fools (due no doubt to the numerous fake fire evacuations they had participated in throughout the years), my colleagues could not be prevailed upon to participate in any jokes. The reason I sought to enlist their help was simple - nobody takes me seriously around here to begin with, so my chances of pulling off a convincing prank were slim. Plus I wanted to teach the Kims about humor.
But when I suggested that we play a prank on someone else in the office, the Koreans balked as though I'd just asked them to help me unclog the toilet. "Maybe somebody should do it, but definitely not me". This is the go-to response for almost any new situation in Korea. A brief flash of terror at the notion of stepping outside the normal boundaries. Thus, even when I suggested a simple prank on the other foreigner in the office, whereby one of our Managers would pretend that our VP was very upset and considering firing her, I got no support. An alternative joke? Nope, can't do it...
And of course my own efforts to mess with the Kims were all foiled by the somewhat befuddling incongruity of a person trying to do something fun, at work. They could not grasp the concept of someone playing a joke at work and probably thought I was drunk (which is irrelevant). Work should not be fun you see, because having fun would imply that you must not be working hard enough.
As you may have noticed, we're posting a bit late...this is because google decided our blog was a spam blog - I don't even know what the hell that means, but I assume it is in someway related to korean spam consumption - which by unofficial estimates averages around 500 cans of spam per/person per/annum
April fools day for koreans consists of teenagers calling the fire department and reporting fake fires...clearly they have missed the point. Being new to the office, as well as the first American on the floor, I felt it beholden upon me to introduce my colleagues to the pleasures of playing pranks on your co-workers (instead of emergency services). They didn't get it.
Koreans have a rather limited sense of humor. They generally only respond to old women - "Ajumas" - screaming at fat people running around in their underpants. This style of comedy is less amusing than it might sound, due in large part to the annoying hi-pitched quality of the ajuma's voices. For people lacking in the humor department Fool's Day is tough, but for the Koreans it presents an almost existential dillema.
While they were aware of the concept of april fools (due no doubt to the numerous fake fire evacuations they had participated in throughout the years), my colleagues could not be prevailed upon to participate in any jokes. The reason I sought to enlist their help was simple - nobody takes me seriously around here to begin with, so my chances of pulling off a convincing prank were slim. Plus I wanted to teach the Kims about humor.
But when I suggested that we play a prank on someone else in the office, the Koreans balked as though I'd just asked them to help me unclog the toilet. "Maybe somebody should do it, but definitely not me". This is the go-to response for almost any new situation in Korea. A brief flash of terror at the notion of stepping outside the normal boundaries. Thus, even when I suggested a simple prank on the other foreigner in the office, whereby one of our Managers would pretend that our VP was very upset and considering firing her, I got no support. An alternative joke? Nope, can't do it...
And of course my own efforts to mess with the Kims were all foiled by the somewhat befuddling incongruity of a person trying to do something fun, at work. They could not grasp the concept of someone playing a joke at work and probably thought I was drunk (which is irrelevant). Work should not be fun you see, because having fun would imply that you must not be working hard enough.
As you may have noticed, we're posting a bit late...this is because google decided our blog was a spam blog - I don't even know what the hell that means, but I assume it is in someway related to korean spam consumption - which by unofficial estimates averages around 500 cans of spam per/person per/annum
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