Rain day

I started this job on May 9th. On May 11th, as we were walking to Gojan station, Michelle turned up her pretty nose and said in her usual nasal tone: "You know Asiatown, I really, really hate this job."

What Michelle really hates is working. The life plan of most Korean females goes like this. K-12, college (major in cosmetology), marriage, 2 kids and a husband whose salary (the part he doesn't spend on hookers and kareoke bars) goes towards her needs- the primary need being a mink coat. And matching shoes. The thought of work galls the young Korean females of today to no end, even though their mothers and grandmothers are basically all that keep Korea semi-functional, be they cleaning ladies, restaurant cooks or secretaries who run the company in the absence of their alcoholic and functionally retarded bosses.

Anyway, Michelle has been on a bold experiment in the science of getting fired. If my boss had a spine....ah well, I can dream. Today she showed up two hours late- a bit galling when you consider that the workday lasts only 5 hours. Her reason? "You know Asiatown, it was really really raining today." (Michelle, like many Koreans, consider the movie Clueless to be an accurate representation of America and she says "like" and "you know" every three seconds.)

Now, let me explain a few things. First, this is monsoon season. Which means it will be raining a lot over the next few weeks. Which also means I will not be seeing much of Michelle if this keeps up. Second, the kids are divided into two groups that alternate daily. I have group A some days and when I do she has group B. If she doesn't show, I get to teach group B as well. Twenty-two kids in a classroom designed for ten. (There is a second classroom with extra chairs but it is locked and you-know-who has the keys.) You figure it out. I had the kids sit on the floor refugee style. Hey, I'm Jewish. I'm an expert on refugees and their seating (and eating) habits. I say that if you have not had the experience of fighting thirty Jews for a millimeter wide slice of brisket, you haven't really lived. But that's just me.

Just found out that my cousin has forgotten to mention that when I am supposed to visit him in Hungary he will be in Florida. This guy is even worse than I am- he would starve to death next to a T-bone. This leaves my sociopathic cousin who, god willing will be in Paris then, my anti-semitic alcoholic uncle (who told my grandmother that "Hitler didn't do enough"), my diabetic/alcoholic uncle, my grandmother and perhaps a visit to the American Embassy.

When I was working in China, I was on a tourist visa (which was presented to me as a work visa) and the immigration lads were none too pleased. Prior to my removal from the People's Republic of Cheap Labor, I visited the specter of impotance that is the U.S. Embassy in Beijing. Of course THERE WAS NOTHING ANYONE COULD DO but I did speak to some Human Resources people and the salaries offered to even the lowest clerk was amazing (U.S. $ 26,000 may not do much in Chicago but in China you can buy a village on that sum. And doesn't it take a village?) I figure, being bilingual, I may pay a visit to the Embassy in Budapest. Hey sue me- I like living like a third world king. It's like cool. Like, you know?