Impressions of South Korea: Work Ethic 2

It's May 17th or 18th, 2009. I'm visiting Yeouido for the second time. My wife says that I lack motivation. It's true. I can't deny it. I remember one commercial. Cherlize Theron is undressing right in front of the viewer. Of course, the viewer does not see her completely naked. She throws off one article of clothing after another. Then the image of the perfume pops up. I wonder if all work is motivated by sublimation...

Is all our hard work motivated by our desire to fuck a beautiful woman? All our primitive instincts... are they molded and directed by desire to produce offspring who would have the most desired characteristics, the most adaptable characteristics, the characteristics that would place them at the top of the food chain? And behind this is our desire for immortal good fortune, one generation after the next?

In 2008, my parents-in-law came to America to help me out with business. I hadn't asked them to come, but they came anyway. I had worked hard for four or five months and again I grew tired and weary. The good thing was that I didn't have another manic episode. I was hoping to impress my father-in-law. I had cleaned up the stores considerably. Sales figures were pretty bad, but at least it had stabilized. My father-in-law came into my store in the shopping mall and looked around for a while. His hands were crossed behind his back and he walked around, almost studying the retail and salon area. He got a ladder and looked at the top glass shelves. He tells me it's dirty. It is not just dirty, it's filthy dirty. He wonders if any employees do anything. He wonders what kind of store owner would keep his store so dirty.

Living in America, I don't have the best view of S. Korea. I read parts of Sam Walton's (WalMart) biography. He and his wife had gone to Korea. His wife mentioned that a warehouse they visited in Korea was filthy. Sam Walton, however, admired the work ethic. On my first trip to Korea, I certainly did not get a sense that Korea was a very clean country. I was staying at a motel with my mother. Flies were all around. There was no air conditioning. If you go to the more expensive and nicer neighborhoods, things become much more clean. But Korea... it's cluttered, jammed and maybe even huddled in some senses, but clean?

There is my father-in-law, cleaning the products and shelves. I ask some of the employees to help him out. I myself have more important things to do. Many of the prices of the products have not been updated. I have stuck the right prices of the products right underneath the product with a price gun. I think that this is a very important thing to do. After all, the store is losing money if the prices are lower than what they should be. Also, I believe in division of labor. I'll get certain employees to help my father-in-law with the cleaning and others to help me with pricing. This way there are no conflicts. But the guilt. I start to feel some real guilt. How can I let an old man do such menial work? I tell myself that he enjoys it. Besides, he doesn't speak much English and all other duties require some English. I tell myself that he likes doing it. Even my wife has told me that he has a passion for cleaning. He would be bored otherwise. He always has to be doing something.

I've felt such guilt before. It is toward my mother. My mother would work 12 or 13 hour days, doing one thing after another at the store. She would move racks, products, and shelves in trying to make the store look better. At first, I would do what she asked. After a few hours, I began to wonder, "What am I going to get out of this?" I would probably get a backache, have trouble sleeping, and no raise whatsoever." It wasn't worth it, I concluded. Even when I was not very tired, I feigned being tired. But my mother would work like this for close to two weeks. Of course, her manners became coarse. She would often lose patience with the employees. She made sure that they knew who was boss. I often felt sorry for the employees during these times, but at the same time, I felt admiration for my mother.

My father-in-law just kept on cleaning and cleaning. He cleaned places that I would never touch. When my wife and he were replacing and redoing the lights, I did not help them out one bit. Division of labor, I thought. When they had complaints about the employees, I more or less said that that's the way they were. My father-in-law was my enemy, I thought. I didn't like the way he judged me. Who was he to judge me? Was he God?

One night, I got two bottles of expensive wine and served it to my father-in-law, my mother-in-law, my wife, and myself. My wife had wanted to loosen the tension between her father and me. I began to talk about how I felt about him, how I felt that he was too aloof, how I felt that his long stare was a bit intimidating, and how he had been too judgemental. My mother and I had worked for 4 or 5 months, cleaning up our stores after the regional manager left. They were so much cleaner than they used to be and all he could say was that they were filthy? I felt that he had spit on my face. He spoke to me very honestly. He said that he didn't like the way I moved. There was no command and presence in my movement. I seemed to be wobbling. He didn't like the fact that I worked with my mother and brother so much. I responded by saying that many big businesses start out as family businesses. Of course, we argued and fought. That didn't mean that I did not make decisions. He said that in the Bible, after two people get married, they leave their parents. He also said that I had no sense of ownership.