Dear massive, adulatory fan base
You knew the day would have to come when we became so fed up with life here that no amount of spiced cabbage and rice wine spiked with antifreeze (known to the Kims as "Sochu") could make it better. It has happened - our korean sun is setting, our train is leaving the station, our short film is just a money shot and a towel short of completion. That's right, Wake Me and Wex are outa Seoul in 36 hours.
It's been one year, 6 months and 19 days, and I've lost that lovin feelin. I can no longer tolerate the raw sewage smell greeting me at every corner, the wicked old women sneering at me on the bus, nor the assholes on scooters trying to run me down on the sidewalk. I still love the shiny suits and snowstorm miniskirts, but they can no longer compensate for my retarded job, where recently they appointed a bio chemist to be the head of my marketing division. the guy has never even sold a fucking toothbrush and now I'm supposed to take orders from him - no, no i'm not.
So i quit that shitbox job and am now officially working on my novel... Of course as you might imagine my departure from that ill-fated enterprise was as silly and annoying as my year long tenure there. I was subjected to an endless barrage of well wishing Kims who insisted on taking me out to lunch so that we could have awkward conversations about how everybody wishes they too had the balls to quit their pointless job and leave this ass backwards country. These conversations were spliced between inspiring farewell discussions such as my general manager's discourse on why dog meat is better for humans than beef. This is because humans are omnivores, and so are dogs, whereas cows only eat grass. We should eat creatures that share our appetites. (this is why the best meat of all is human flesh - goes great with pickles).
Before I slapped this moron across the face with my delicious T-bone, I demanded how his brilliant logic applied to the Kims favorite food, pork. Well everyone knows pigs have a special body chemistry that makes their fat more suitable for human consumption than beef fat. I will truly miss the Korean version of science that people here use to justify every ridiculous thing they believe. It's more entertaining than American logic, which tends to ignore science in favor of lessons from people who can walk on water and/or part seas.
But I digress. In less than two days I shall no longer have amusing arguments about the virtues of dog meat how it leads to cannibalism. Nor will I have to deal with scum-sucking assholes in HR who are forcing me to sue them over my severance pay. I leave all that bullshit behind me and step out into the great unknown, which is to say this great recession i've been hearing so much about. What better time to be unemployed? I'll have lots of company on the couch.
But lest ye think that my imminent parting wants for a little sweet sorrow, allow me to give a final shout out to all the poor seouls I'll be leaving behind. My friends and bandmates in this lame town have made the journey a fun one, despite all the crap this blog has detailed. I may not have learned much in my inane job, but I certainly leave Korea richer in friends and life experiences, and for that I (and Wake Me too) am grateful. So aniyeong, my korea homies. Hope to see you all again soon, but not back here.
every inch of my love
Wex
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Stop Being Douchebags? Yes They Can
On this historic day I thought I should write a little post about my man Obama, who's triumph over the snowmobiles of fear and the moosehunters of ignorance has managed to crack through even the opaque walls of the occasional Kim. While there has been no partying in the streets a la European Cities, my somnambulist colleagues actually acknowledged that something more important than extra sides of Kimchi was happening today.
In fact, I have noticed a marked increase in positivity coming from a traditionally sour source, the Korean cab driver. Most of our readers know that cab drivers have been the bane of many an otherwise pleasant evening here in Seoul. They are ill-tempered assholes who behave more like mutinous indentured servants than people who are actually getting paid. ("Turn the car around on this empty street?? Fuck no - Get the hell out of my cab!"). They also tend to be racist bastards who refuse to pick up white folk like me unless we sport a nice looking suit, and even then prospects are grim.
But since November 2008, I am pleased to say that many cab drivers can't stop talking about America and Barack Obama. These days it is not unusual to be welcomed into a cab with the a brief exchange about where I am from, followed by "America - very good. Barack Obama, yes we can!" Or something like that. After 8 years of being embarrassed and defensive, I'm once again proud to tell the cabbies I'm from America, and they too are proud to be alive in this moment in history. So kudos to you America, and to you too, cab-drivin Kims. You cats are alright.
Now please turn left at this intersection. "Turn left? Hell no! Get the fuck out of my cab..."
In fact, I have noticed a marked increase in positivity coming from a traditionally sour source, the Korean cab driver. Most of our readers know that cab drivers have been the bane of many an otherwise pleasant evening here in Seoul. They are ill-tempered assholes who behave more like mutinous indentured servants than people who are actually getting paid. ("Turn the car around on this empty street?? Fuck no - Get the hell out of my cab!"). They also tend to be racist bastards who refuse to pick up white folk like me unless we sport a nice looking suit, and even then prospects are grim.
But since November 2008, I am pleased to say that many cab drivers can't stop talking about America and Barack Obama. These days it is not unusual to be welcomed into a cab with the a brief exchange about where I am from, followed by "America - very good. Barack Obama, yes we can!" Or something like that. After 8 years of being embarrassed and defensive, I'm once again proud to tell the cabbies I'm from America, and they too are proud to be alive in this moment in history. So kudos to you America, and to you too, cab-drivin Kims. You cats are alright.
Now please turn left at this intersection. "Turn left? Hell no! Get the fuck out of my cab..."
Monday, January 12, 2009
Accomplishments of the Bush
This has nothing to do with Korea, but I find it pretty amusing.
It's the Whitehouse's resume for the past eight years. Apparently they felt like the Americans didn't understand all the great stuff Bush and Co. have been doing for the world.
But check out the style. Doesn't it read like some kid's summer report? I imagine some intern had to put this together while the rest of the staff was helping W clear brush. It's pathetic, funny, and rather emblematic of W's reign.
He will be missed.
It's the Whitehouse's resume for the past eight years. Apparently they felt like the Americans didn't understand all the great stuff Bush and Co. have been doing for the world.
But check out the style. Doesn't it read like some kid's summer report? I imagine some intern had to put this together while the rest of the staff was helping W clear brush. It's pathetic, funny, and rather emblematic of W's reign.
He will be missed.
$500 Shoes... still lives with his mom
When I was in Thailand with my pops this xmas we were wandering through some mall trying to find an internet café (the hotel had all the porn blocked) and along the way decided to check out some fancy stores. Pops commented that even on sale the name-brand shit was way more expensive than in the states and inquired “who the hell pays this much money for this crap”? Having spent over a year in Korea I was ready with the answer: “the Asians do”.
Since living here I’ve noticed something about the Kims that I suspect is common to all East Asian societies – they drop a shitton of loot on overpriced clothes/accessories. I’m not just talking about rich people either. All the Kims find it necessary to spend every cent of their disposable income on fancy name brand crap they don’t need. In fact most of them go beyond disposable income and simply drop all the cash they have on Prada shoes, Gucci glasses, Louis Vuitton briefcases, and Ferragamo belts. That kind of stuff is seen as a social necessity and people who don’t sport it are shunned and mocked.
I know you’re thinking you’ve seen this before, that everybody in New York and LA does the same thing. But trust me; they don’t kick it like the Kims. The most superficial Upper East Side princess to ever throw up martini on her Cockapoo at Elaine’s has never spent such a percentage of her husband’s wealth on fashion.
It’s a sad situation, but it’s also funny. Despite their excesses most of the Kims dress like clowns. This is partially because of bad fashion sense, but also because the average Kim cannot afford to completely bling out. Note that I only referenced accessories above. That’s because most Kims work like slaves for pathetic paychecks, so they can’t afford to actually buy fancy clothes. The prices here are so inflated that all your average salaryman/woman can swing is accessories. They can’t afford a Prada suit or dress, so they settle for Ferragamo shoes. In a way this is economical, since the accessories can be warn far more often than any item of clothing. But it produces an hilarious spectacle, because the aforementioned fashion sense gets in the way of what bling they can afford.
In my office I routinely see guys walking around with $500 shoes, $300 belts and $1K watches - in shiny suits that would barely pass muster at Kmart. The suits literally look like they were stitched together by some 6th grade Home-Ec class. The chicks wear sweaters that would make your grandma look cool, but they all have that Gucci bags. Apparently actual style is not what they pay for, just the ability to flaunt a big name. (Literally: the name on the item must be as bold as possible, with any tags sporting said name deliberately left sewn in, like a yuppie Korean rap video).Anybody who cared about style would divide that money into a few different respectable outfits instead of 3 really fancy accessories, but not the Kims.
But the ridiculous appearance of these cats is overshadowed by an even more amusing fact – they all still live with their moms. Take the guy on my team who works next to me. He sports a $2K Omega watch, some kinda fancy mail order shoes from Italy, and owns 4 different cashmere scarves (from Burberry, Sax, etc…). Like everybody else on my team, the dude has a $200 Montblanc pen that he carries with him everywhere. Since nobody really needs to take notes on the pointless work we do around here, my man uses his Montblanc pen to doodle whenever possible. He talks shit about my fake designer belt and ties from China ($3 a pop), but my rejoinder is simple: He lives with his friggin mom.
The guy is 32 years old and unmarried. He actually dresses a lot better than most Kims, probably because his mommy buys him decent (non Home-Ec manufactured) suits. But at the end of the day, dude is still not married (strange for a Korean) and he never gets laid. What is the point of all his bling? Wouldn’t the poor bastard be better off if he sold his fancy accessories and put a deposit on an apartment? I guarantee he would at least have a little better shot with the ladies. And yet, without a hint of irony, my male colleagues will defend cohabitation with their parents as a pecuniary prerequisite. It costs too much to live alone, the Kims opine.
That’s fine with me, since I’ve been replacing his brand name gear with Chinese replicas for months now. If somebody’s gonna look fly around here, it will have to be me.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Winter Wonderland
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Readers
I know it’s been ages. I know I’ve been remiss in my duties in recent months. But it was fantasy football season, and since I usually write these at work, which is also where I watch football on the internet and compare stats for hours on end, I was pretty short on time. Plus every once in a while some asshole has the gall to demand that I do some work.
But never fear: football’s almost over and I’m quitting this stupid job soon, so I plan on doing as little work as possible over the next couple months.
As a bonus, it’s winter time in Korea. Winter in Korea is miserable, so you know I’ll have plenty to write/bitch about. The only positive thing I can think of to say about winter here is that it’s so fucking cold the raw sewage smell seeping up through the sidewalks is somewhat dampened by the frost.
This pleasant effect of the cold temperature is more than mitigated by the effect winter has on my shitbox apartment. As was the case last year, winter has brought on an onslaught of mold that no amount of bleach can cure. I’ve never seen anything quite like it; last season I literally peeled strips of mold off the walls around the windows. Nowadays there is no wallpaper left, so the mold is forced to cling to concrete. After I bleach the walls the stains combine with mosquito blood from last summer to create a rather morbid spectacle. Sort of like a zombie’s apartment – if that zombie had a maid.
Of course the zombie would not bathe, and thus would not have to suffer through the misery that is my shower in the wintertime. My landlord is a nice guy, but when it comes to the water heater he’s either retarded or just a sadist. The heater (which more aptly would be called a “warmer”), sits outside in the cold, encased only in a plywood box with no door. Even though we leave the heat on when we’re away the pipes managed to freeze last month. Watching the landlord defrost them with a blowtorch was amusing. He told us that when it gets really cold we have to leave our water running all night to prevent pipe-freeze.
Even when the pipes work the water isn’t hot. Actually that’s not quite true: it’s scalding hot for about 30 seconds, and then freezing cold. Somehow the heater saves up just enough juice to blow one flaming load when u first step in the shower – but then it goes limp as soon as u come back for more. My landlord doesn’t believe me when I tell him there’s a problem. He seems to think I simply enjoy having him over for a chat whilst standing around in a towel.
But this is it - last winter in Korea. Soon I will leave this moldy, frozen, sewage-smelling dump and trade up for a new city. How’s London this time of year?
I know it’s been ages. I know I’ve been remiss in my duties in recent months. But it was fantasy football season, and since I usually write these at work, which is also where I watch football on the internet and compare stats for hours on end, I was pretty short on time. Plus every once in a while some asshole has the gall to demand that I do some work.
But never fear: football’s almost over and I’m quitting this stupid job soon, so I plan on doing as little work as possible over the next couple months.
As a bonus, it’s winter time in Korea. Winter in Korea is miserable, so you know I’ll have plenty to write/bitch about. The only positive thing I can think of to say about winter here is that it’s so fucking cold the raw sewage smell seeping up through the sidewalks is somewhat dampened by the frost.
This pleasant effect of the cold temperature is more than mitigated by the effect winter has on my shitbox apartment. As was the case last year, winter has brought on an onslaught of mold that no amount of bleach can cure. I’ve never seen anything quite like it; last season I literally peeled strips of mold off the walls around the windows. Nowadays there is no wallpaper left, so the mold is forced to cling to concrete. After I bleach the walls the stains combine with mosquito blood from last summer to create a rather morbid spectacle. Sort of like a zombie’s apartment – if that zombie had a maid.
Of course the zombie would not bathe, and thus would not have to suffer through the misery that is my shower in the wintertime. My landlord is a nice guy, but when it comes to the water heater he’s either retarded or just a sadist. The heater (which more aptly would be called a “warmer”), sits outside in the cold, encased only in a plywood box with no door. Even though we leave the heat on when we’re away the pipes managed to freeze last month. Watching the landlord defrost them with a blowtorch was amusing. He told us that when it gets really cold we have to leave our water running all night to prevent pipe-freeze.
Even when the pipes work the water isn’t hot. Actually that’s not quite true: it’s scalding hot for about 30 seconds, and then freezing cold. Somehow the heater saves up just enough juice to blow one flaming load when u first step in the shower – but then it goes limp as soon as u come back for more. My landlord doesn’t believe me when I tell him there’s a problem. He seems to think I simply enjoy having him over for a chat whilst standing around in a towel.
But this is it - last winter in Korea. Soon I will leave this moldy, frozen, sewage-smelling dump and trade up for a new city. How’s London this time of year?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Fart's War
Let it never be said that Wexford Sunshine will not sink to their level…or anybody’s level for that matter. I hold myself to no higher standards – nay, I am as fallible as the next man, and almost as petty as the next Kim. Thus, I have a confession to make: I fart on old people.
But lest ye judge me too hastily: allow me to put you in context. Some of our earliest readers may recall the description of Wake Me and my morning commute. Although she rides the bus and I the subway, both of us are accosted by the presence, both physical and olfactory, of teeming hoards of Kims as we plod our way to work. More often than you would expect these folk are wicked old and wicked nasty. Nasty both in the sense of reeking of garlic, smoke and rotting cabbage, as well as being mean spirited old hags. The smell comes mostly from the old men, who eat raw garlic every morning and breathe it all over you in the steamy confines of a subway car. Since I don’t have the breath to combat the Kims, I respond with my only other weapon – a well placed fart. Whether or not the male Kims can smell my flatulence, (or indeed can smell anything at all after years of living in Seoul), is questionable. Nonetheless, I try to position myself in front of the oldest, most foul-breathed man I can find before unleashing my morning barrage.
You may think this is a disproportionate response, particularly if you’ve never smelled anyone who eats kimchi and garlic for 3 meals a day. Well in addition to their breath these guys are often jerks - but it’s their female counterpart who is truly vicious. We have occasionally referred in these pages to the dreaded Ajuma – the Korean grandma. It is this creature of darkness that more than any other factor inspires me to make war on my fellow commuters.
Somehow sweet, demure little Korean girls evolve into beastly brutes after they have children. Maybe it’s a result of years of enduring this blatantly sexist and chauvinistic society that finally hardens them, but whatever the justification, the Ajuma is rude and aggressive – and not afraid to drop some elbows as she and her gaggle of accomplices vie for the few available seats on my hour long early morning commute. Don’t just take my word for it though – apparently there’s a Korean joke that goes “there are 3 sexes in Korea: male, female and Ajuma”. The Kims are just as oppressed by the Ajuma as I am, and they are equally baffled by her violent tendencies. When an Ajuma has succeeded in punching you out of her way, she will fix you with the death stare for daring to gape at her behavior. She will then proceed to slam the window shut, no matter how obscenely hot it is in your bus or train car. (I believe this has something to do with the cold blooded circulatory system of the Ajuma, but it may also be connected to a fear of fresh-ish air common to many Kims).
Upon exiting the train the Ajuma will shove past you to be first on the escalator. Since she invariably stands still on the escalator once achieving her position, I believe this is simply a form of primal competition for the Ajuma. She is not actually concerned about getting anywhere quickly. In fact why the hell are the Ajumas even riding the train at 7am? They have no jobs, nor any reason to pick rush hour to take care of some other business. Pondering all of this makes a fellow start to believe that the Ajumas are simply out to fuck with you.
Thus after being stuck behind one too many Ajumas on the escalator as I attempted to reach my connecting train on time, I decided to hold some of my farts until I reach the stairs, depositing them at face level as I push past the unmoving old Kims.
Once I get on my second train of the day I am generally drained of gas. Therefore I spend the rest of my morning eyeing the passengers who have managed to score seats. Which one is about to get off? Is that the old guy who got off at the second stop last week? Once I find my mark I prepare for the last stage of my morning war of attrition. I must make a tactical decision in my strategic battle against the Ajuma – how shall I stand so as to make it impossible for the old bag to grab the seat I’m scoping out if I’m lucky enough to see it vacated. If I flinch for second, or if I start to doze off standing up, she will throw me aside the minute my seat becomes available. Then I will be left to stand on my tired legs for another 45 minutes, slowly suffocating in garlic.
I could be a gentleman of course and simply cede vacant seats to the old people. I could even try to contain my gas, saving the fart for open air. But if I did I would the biggest sucker in Seoul. Absolutely nobody here gives up a seat for an Ajuma or an old man. They may not all use flatulence in their battle, but all the Kims recognize that this is War, and the prize for second place is not getting to sleep through the noxious commute.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wex of Arabia
The arrival of a certain asshole in our offices today (we can call him Kim So Douche) reminded me of a story I’ve been meaning to tell you for some time.
Two months ago I went on a business trip with the Kims. (There was one other foreigner on board, but he doesn’t count. He’s such an obsequious kimchi-lover he might as well be a spokesman for the Fan Death Association). We went to the Middle East: Dubai, Abu Dhabi and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.
That’s right, I was in Saudi Arabia. Why has it taken me 3 months to write about what I did in “the Kingdom”? Clandestine services demands a three month post-op grace period these days.
Saudi was a rather depressing dump, at least the part of it I saw. No sign of the largesse of oil wealth – just a developing country in a desert with a lot of half-finished buildings and creepy unlit highways. I imagine Riyadh must be more impressive, but we were on a trip to the industrial coastline.
So, what’s a business trip like with the Kims? At times it’s like taking your grandparents to Times Square. My boss generally shuffles around blithely, without ever seeming to take much in. But once in a while he’s confronted with something foreign and needs to be shepherded, like how you have to drag grandpa away from the hookers on 8th Ave. Or when you have to convince Grandma that there’s nothing to fear from the pre-op trannies pouring out of “Don’t Tell Mamas” on 43rd.
In general the Kims prefer to stick with what they know. This is why we ate Italian food in Saudi Arabia, and Korean food in Abu Dhabi (after two whole days without pickled cabbage, the Kims were starting to wilt). They’re constantly seeking to compartmentalize the unknown or to break it down into manageable bits that can fit on a powerpoint slide. In preparation for this trip my boss asked me to read a little book on Saudi culture called “Don’t they know it’s Friday”? He wanted a powerpoint overview of how Saudis do business differently. I of course refused to waste my time in such a manner (I’m very popular around the office thanks to this attitude), but to mollify him I did agree to look at the book. I am now the Saudi expert, having read a book by some old British wanker about not shaking hands with Saudi women.
This is pretty typical of Korean business culture. Nobody is prepared to develop any real expertise but they’re quite happy to create pretend experts who can deliver sound bites of knowledge lacking any real depth… but I digress
The real reason I started writing this piece was to tell you about how this asshole I saw today conspired with my idiot boss to screw us all out of $1000. Here’s the situation: as the youngest and lowest ranking member of our business delegation I was given the task of making sure we had hotels booked in Saudi and Dubai (where we had some other meatings). I’m pretty sure there’s an office somewhere downstairs that’s supposed to deal with hotels, but I’m equally sure that it’s staffed with drooling imbeciles – so I thought it best to handle it myself. I told my boss that I’d take care of the hotels, in consultation with this asshole from a different team who lives in Dubai. I had not yet met the asshole – Kim So Douche – but he was meant to be a source of advice on which hotels to choose. I called him and he recommended two hotels.
I booked the hotel for Friday night in Dubai and had one in Saudi for Saturday night. We had to then come back to Dubai on Sunday and Monday, so I made a separate booking for those nights – at a Hotel recommended by Kim So Douche. I told my boss we had reservations and even offered to print him up his own copy. We stayed the first two nights of our trip without incident.
Upon arriving at the Dubai airport on Sunday I discovered that, without ever consulting me, Kim So Douche had booked a separate hotel for our final two nights in Dubai. He had done this the night before – while we were staying in a hotel that I had booked. I later learned that So Douche had consulted with my boss about whether or not I had already booked a room for Sunday. Even though they knew I had booked the first two nights of our trip, it somehow seemed possible to them that I had forgotten to book the final 2 nights. Instead of waiting to confirm this completely ridiculous possibility with me, they double booked the hotels – eventually forcing us to cancel one of the reservations. Since these were nice hotels, the last minute cancellation cost $1000.
Despite the fact that this was completely my boss and Kim So Douche’s fault, they somehow seemed to regard it as a mere miscommunication. I said no – it was clearly my job to take care of this, as evidenced by the fact that we spent the first two nights in the hotels I booked – not to mention the fact that my entire team was well aware that I had booked the hotels (including the useless American who was with us on the trip, and with whom the Kims also decided not to consult before double booking the hotels). Besides, what kind of idiot would only book hotels for half of the trip?
No big deal, u might be thinking. I mean, there’s no way my boss, a Vice President, would ever ask a lowly underpaid assistant manager to help pay for such a mistake…right? Plus, isn’t it part of Asian culture that the older, richer guy has to shell out for the poor young guy? Not this time. The bastard made me and the other American guy cough up $250 a piece to pay for this error. He paid for $500. My boss refused to ask HR to compensate us for the Hotel, which they certainly would have done. He also refused to even ask Kim So Douche to chip in, even though it was his hotel hubris that caused the problem. His reasoning was that it would make us look bad if other people in the company found out about the gaffe. As for justifying taking my money – he claimed that it wasn’t really my money anyway, since we all had a per diem for the trip and I hadn’t spent all of mine on food. Apparently my unspent compensation is up for grabs. Next time he goes on a business trip I’m going to drive his company car off a bridge – it’s not like it was really his car after all.
Two months ago I went on a business trip with the Kims. (There was one other foreigner on board, but he doesn’t count. He’s such an obsequious kimchi-lover he might as well be a spokesman for the Fan Death Association). We went to the Middle East: Dubai, Abu Dhabi and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.
That’s right, I was in Saudi Arabia. Why has it taken me 3 months to write about what I did in “the Kingdom”? Clandestine services demands a three month post-op grace period these days.
Saudi was a rather depressing dump, at least the part of it I saw. No sign of the largesse of oil wealth – just a developing country in a desert with a lot of half-finished buildings and creepy unlit highways. I imagine Riyadh must be more impressive, but we were on a trip to the industrial coastline.
So, what’s a business trip like with the Kims? At times it’s like taking your grandparents to Times Square. My boss generally shuffles around blithely, without ever seeming to take much in. But once in a while he’s confronted with something foreign and needs to be shepherded, like how you have to drag grandpa away from the hookers on 8th Ave. Or when you have to convince Grandma that there’s nothing to fear from the pre-op trannies pouring out of “Don’t Tell Mamas” on 43rd.
In general the Kims prefer to stick with what they know. This is why we ate Italian food in Saudi Arabia, and Korean food in Abu Dhabi (after two whole days without pickled cabbage, the Kims were starting to wilt). They’re constantly seeking to compartmentalize the unknown or to break it down into manageable bits that can fit on a powerpoint slide. In preparation for this trip my boss asked me to read a little book on Saudi culture called “Don’t they know it’s Friday”? He wanted a powerpoint overview of how Saudis do business differently. I of course refused to waste my time in such a manner (I’m very popular around the office thanks to this attitude), but to mollify him I did agree to look at the book. I am now the Saudi expert, having read a book by some old British wanker about not shaking hands with Saudi women.
This is pretty typical of Korean business culture. Nobody is prepared to develop any real expertise but they’re quite happy to create pretend experts who can deliver sound bites of knowledge lacking any real depth… but I digress
The real reason I started writing this piece was to tell you about how this asshole I saw today conspired with my idiot boss to screw us all out of $1000. Here’s the situation: as the youngest and lowest ranking member of our business delegation I was given the task of making sure we had hotels booked in Saudi and Dubai (where we had some other meatings). I’m pretty sure there’s an office somewhere downstairs that’s supposed to deal with hotels, but I’m equally sure that it’s staffed with drooling imbeciles – so I thought it best to handle it myself. I told my boss that I’d take care of the hotels, in consultation with this asshole from a different team who lives in Dubai. I had not yet met the asshole – Kim So Douche – but he was meant to be a source of advice on which hotels to choose. I called him and he recommended two hotels.
I booked the hotel for Friday night in Dubai and had one in Saudi for Saturday night. We had to then come back to Dubai on Sunday and Monday, so I made a separate booking for those nights – at a Hotel recommended by Kim So Douche. I told my boss we had reservations and even offered to print him up his own copy. We stayed the first two nights of our trip without incident.
Upon arriving at the Dubai airport on Sunday I discovered that, without ever consulting me, Kim So Douche had booked a separate hotel for our final two nights in Dubai. He had done this the night before – while we were staying in a hotel that I had booked. I later learned that So Douche had consulted with my boss about whether or not I had already booked a room for Sunday. Even though they knew I had booked the first two nights of our trip, it somehow seemed possible to them that I had forgotten to book the final 2 nights. Instead of waiting to confirm this completely ridiculous possibility with me, they double booked the hotels – eventually forcing us to cancel one of the reservations. Since these were nice hotels, the last minute cancellation cost $1000.
Despite the fact that this was completely my boss and Kim So Douche’s fault, they somehow seemed to regard it as a mere miscommunication. I said no – it was clearly my job to take care of this, as evidenced by the fact that we spent the first two nights in the hotels I booked – not to mention the fact that my entire team was well aware that I had booked the hotels (including the useless American who was with us on the trip, and with whom the Kims also decided not to consult before double booking the hotels). Besides, what kind of idiot would only book hotels for half of the trip?
No big deal, u might be thinking. I mean, there’s no way my boss, a Vice President, would ever ask a lowly underpaid assistant manager to help pay for such a mistake…right? Plus, isn’t it part of Asian culture that the older, richer guy has to shell out for the poor young guy? Not this time. The bastard made me and the other American guy cough up $250 a piece to pay for this error. He paid for $500. My boss refused to ask HR to compensate us for the Hotel, which they certainly would have done. He also refused to even ask Kim So Douche to chip in, even though it was his hotel hubris that caused the problem. His reasoning was that it would make us look bad if other people in the company found out about the gaffe. As for justifying taking my money – he claimed that it wasn’t really my money anyway, since we all had a per diem for the trip and I hadn’t spent all of mine on food. Apparently my unspent compensation is up for grabs. Next time he goes on a business trip I’m going to drive his company car off a bridge – it’s not like it was really his car after all.
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