Mobsters Inc.

There are two ways of doing things in Korea. The legal way and the Korean way.

We all know the legal way. After all, I am from America where the economy is based on selling drugs, buying houses and suing the people who sold us structurally unsound houses while they were on drugs. There are so many lawyers in America that if you do not know the legal way, someone will surely tell you. This is when you write polite letters, visit various government boards, consult with soothing lawyers and generally speaking spend your life taking part in Jon Stewart's equation. ("Small claims court. Where the pathetic sue the desperate over the mundane.")

Then, there is the Korean way. My job, and I call it a job with no small amount of hesitation, was arranged by a herpes-ridden lad of Australian-Korean extraction named Jeffrey. The gig sounded great. Work from 1 to 5 with small classes in a public elementary school. Decent kids, out in the nuevo rich suburbs, and generally a ticket out of the Dancing Monkey Show that is private language schools. All for 2 million won a month, which is a not too demeaning wage. Okay so we had 120 spots and only 49 students. So what? "You worry about teaching. You no worry about business" says Jeffrey in soothing Konglish. Like the idiot I am, I no worry.

Month one passes uneventfully. I'm a star. The principal of this fine school assures me, via the non-English speaking English teacher that "the more we see you, the more we like you." Though it is a bit shocking that I do not eat rice seperately from the rest of the meal or that I do not partake in kimchi.

Month two is pleasant. I am invited to school events, concerts, days at the beach, etc. The kids are getting a bit antsy though. The familiar jadedness that is at the heart of Korean language education starts to bubble to the surface. I think Koreans have this imaginary super-fun blonde blue-eyed big breasted puppet they keep longing for. And even she won't be good enough.

Month three is rockier. Enrollment picks up but not by enough. Invitations to social events cease. Teachers who were pleasant towards me now largely ignore me. Maybe my nose is too big. Maybe I'm fat. Maybe I'm hairy. 'Tis a mystery. Classes are rougher sledding as well. I appeal to Jeffrey for equipment (all I have is a whiteboard and some markers- with this I am commanded to make class "fun.") I send a lengthy email on the wonders of tape recorders, tv's, computers, props, posters, etc. They are promptly delivered- to Michelle's classroom. This is also a time when my salary takes a 10 percent dive. Can't have that.

Month four features full out rebellion. Michelle starts to spend more time in my classroom than hers- which is not saying much considering her fondness for showing up only sporadically. Her face, never particularly attractive, starts to look pinched. Small dark eyes cast hateful glances my way. Every sentence begins with "You know, asiatown, I am very busy but I keep have to..." (work, mark papers, masturbate, teach, snort cocaine off rice cakes etc.) My salary now declines by 25 percent. I am given perplexed looks when I ask for pay stubs. I find out the hard way that Jeffrey is not paying my health insurance.

Month five, featuring the decline of civilization. (Not that it was ever at a very high level to begin with.) Enquires regarding pension payments, tax payments, health insurance and wages are met with stony silence. My excommunication is complete. Nobody even goes through the bother of pretending to be friendly to score free English lessons/make fun of whitey time. Which really hurts. I'm so used to being exploited by them, I can't bear the thought of not being used. Must be the Seoul Syndrome.

So I talk this over with one of only a handful of Koreans I know who look at me as an actual human being and not as a somewhat amusing animal that can bark out English words on command. He tells me to use "the law." Sweet, precious boy, unsoiled by life. The law fails. Miserably. I go to the labor board which asks, in all innocence "Can you talk this over with your boss?"

Ummm.....so now we switch into Korean mode. Aforementioned sweet, precious lad gets a glint in his eye. "I want to talk to this guy." Which is how we wind up at a pay phone in the dead of night. Serious discussion takes place, or would be taking place, if Jeffrey wouldn't hang up. Seems out erstwhile engineering student mentioned (best as I could tell), the Korean mafia, of which he is a tangential member. I am not sure what he said exactly, but it worked quite well because I am 700 dollars richer this morning. The only trouble is that Jeffrey is the kind of guy who never learns from experience, so I assume another phone call will become necessary.

P.S.: I am leaving for China in 2 weeks.