#1. You know that scene at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, when Indy has to make the leap of faith into a bottomless pit? So, he closes his eyes and takes a step only to discover there was an invisible bridge in front of him the whole fuckin’ time.* My experience has been a lot like that. Working up the nerve to get on the plane was the most difficult part; and even then, I had a little help from an orange plastic bottle. These days, my boss pretty much handles anything and everything that requires a sense of maturity: rent, utilities, taxes, you name it. Anything with the potential to make me a bigger pain in the ass is handled before the money changes hands.

#2. Yet, to the untrained eye, it actually looks like I’m doing something with my life. It’s a limbo between college and adulthood; a way to seem like a grown up without actually growing up. I highly recommend it to any recent college grads who decided to spend the last four years destroying their bodies instead of preparing for this moment. Well, don’t fret, my stupid friend. Just grab whichever useless degree kept you eligible, and find a job waiting tables until your criminal record gets cleared. Then, get on a Korean Job forum and shotgun that resumé across the internet like its last night’s taco bell. It’s a numbers game, so don’t be afraid to paint the bowl. Maximum coverage is a good thing. It shouldn’t take more than couple weeks, as long as you don’t interview like an asshole. Then bing-bang-boom, you’ve got your very own set of adult world training wheels. Congratulations. In this country, everyone over twenty drinks like the world’s about to end. So you’ll fit in just fine.

#3. There will be some drawbacks, mainly in regard to the languague barrier; like the frequent paranoia that your co-workers are talking about you, in front of you. But on that same note, you don’t have to listen to all of the bullshit that falls out of people’s heads on a daily basis: gossip, workplace drama, opinions grounded in ignorance, etc. Not to mention, the majority of people are going leave you alone. Even panhandlers. They turn to see my pasty face, and just ‘nope’ right back the other way. And sure, every cutlure is going to have there fair share of racist old men, ready to berate a foreigner for no good reason; but they’re a lot easier to deal with when you don’t have a clue what they’re saying.

Footnotes

*And if you don’t know what I’m talking about….what is wrong with you? Stop reading this crap and go watch that movie. I assure you it’s a thousand times more fulfilling than anything I have to say.

I’ve never been one to subscribe to the theory of “everything happens for a reason,” or “God has a plan” as it’s understood in the less secular translations. A bit too optimistic for my taste; just a white lie designed to keep people from putting a gun in their mouth during those times when non-existence doesn’t seem so bad. Even for the omniscient, there are way too many people to keep track of, let alone give a frothy shit about. If God ever really did have a plan for all of us, I’m pretty sure he gave up about 6 billion people ago. 

Having said that, it does seem as though being hung out to dry by my first boss may have been the most ideal outcome.*  Not only did I find another job long before my savings ran dry, but I also had a couple weeks to kill, giving me plenty of time to explore the city, interact with the locals, and absorb some culture. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Andy, you literally did none of those things.”  That’s not the point. The point is I found an employer whose professional expectations were far more suitable to my skill set. By which, I mean, lower…much, much lower.

Not that my new school is any less reputable of an institution; but they’ve been having some issues with their white people of late. Some honky hassles, if you will. For example, the “man” that I replaced was so out there that to simply call our interactions awkward, would be a compliment. This dude was so socially illiterate that it was impossible not to feel bad for him; that is, until you realize he has all the redeeming qualities of a diaper rash. As a result they’ve been forced to drop their standards. 

Enter Andy Mac, galloping into town astride a glorious mythical steed. Is that a suit of armor I see sparkling on the horizon? Or just the blinding glare from his nearly translucent skin? IT MAKES NO MATTER! For this man will be hired not by the color of his skin, but by his lack of a severe, yet undefined social disorder. Unlike my predecessor, I had not made a habit of invading everyone’s personal space with a crippling ignorance of social norms. I’m honestly not exaggerating when I say that my number one qualification for this job was that I was not him. Which is great, because I had unknowingly gained over twenty years of experience in not being him. I had been not being him for pretty much my entire life. 

Of course, it didn’t take long for that new toy novelty to wear off. Now, I’m expected to “contribute” and shit. Still, not a bad gig though.  These days, my leading qualifications are my fluency in English (which, on my list of reflexive talents, is just above wiping), and never having been arrested for child abuse. Admittedly, the second one is considerably more difficult than the first…but still, pretty fuckin’ easy. Certainly better than closing down a bar 3 nights a week. At least here, I’m not surprised when the clientele piss themselves.

Footnotes

* Actually, the most ideal outcome would have involved one of my fellow trainees, whom I will call Lorie, and myself being invited to vent our frustrations in a consensual, yet highly aggressive threesome with our sadistic Korean trainer. But that’s just me being a stickler for semantics. I digress.

After being flipped the proverbial* bird by my former future employer, I handled it with composure, not letting anyone see a hint of the embittered rage welling up inside of me. I gathered my things and quietly exited without so much as a smartass remark. There was no time to dwell. I needed a new plan. Fast. So I got back to the hotel and did the first thing I could think of: panic. Yes. Panic. That most natural of human responses when you lose your grip on life. I wanted nothing more than to go straight to the airport, hop on a plane for home, get ridiculously,  irresponsibly stoned, and convince myself that everything happens for a reason. But I was already here, halfway around the world, and if I bailed now, I knew I wouldn’t be coming back.

So I said, “Andy, that’s a pretty sweet plan you got there, with the recreational drugs, and the living in a country where people understand what you’re saying. But you just spent an entire year telling everyone you’ve ever known that you were moving to Korea for an indefinite period of time. If you go back after 8 days, you’re going to look like a moron.”

“That’s a really good point, Andy,” I replied. “And it kinda makes me want to cry.”

“Well then you need a better plan,” I said. “Because you sound like a fucking idiot when you cry.”

I was making a lot of sense. I just didn’t want to admit it yet. So I decided to drink. Heavily. And deal with it in the morning. Which turned out to be a really bad idea, for all of the usual reasons that drinking under emotional stress is a bad idea. Not only was I still super anxious, but now I was dehydrated, hungover, and horny. Well…hornier than normal. And this was before I figured out how to bypass the government internet censors. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Porn’s illegal in Korea. As well as any drug that could be any sort of fun. So with all of my traditional free time activities out of reach, I went to work.

Footnotes

*I’m not using this word properly.