A Response!
The BigHo replies to my moralistic soapbox poem:
M,
Ah, you think like a Westerner-- contracts are actually important to you.
Yeah, if I were in the States, I'd agree with you. We could actually talk about"principle." But here, where the bosses don't really give a shit what thecontract says, all's fair in love and war. You keep your dignity in whateverway you can. I'm probably going to lose mine after tomorrow.
As for your sympathy for my boss-- don't worry: she needs none. The woman's asneaky little bitch, using the receptionists as spies, laying guilt trips onKorean and expat teachers to get them to do her bidding, issuing random threatsabout firing Korean teachers-- even writing up a TWO-PAGE-LONG list ofcomplaints about one of the expat teachers, a newbie named Valery, who in myopinion is trying her best & didn't deserve such shitty treatment (she's onlybeen in Korea for six months). If my boss were to get canned for failing tomanage me, that'd be icing on the cake.
Part of what allows me (or any expat here, for that matter) to think and act soextravagantly is that being fired isn't a tragedy. There's no black mark onyour permanent record-- all hagwon (language institute) jobs are shady to somedegree or other. In all likelihood, you've been fired for unfair reasons.That's typical of many expats in Korea. Foreigners who toe the line to theKorean bosses' satisfaction almost never receive extra perks for their goodbehavior (or the perks are insultingly minimal). If anything, they're screwedharder, because they've proven they can be used. It doesn't pay to be a goodlittle soldier in a Korean business.
In such a poisonous environment, idealistic talk about upholding a contractmeans little.
I loved the poem all the same, but thought I should inform you of the uglyrealities here.
BTW, as I blogged before, my brother already gave me the "stick to the contract"lecture. Heh. Yeah, in a perfect world...
Kevin
M,
Ah, you think like a Westerner-- contracts are actually important to you.
Yeah, if I were in the States, I'd agree with you. We could actually talk about"principle." But here, where the bosses don't really give a shit what thecontract says, all's fair in love and war. You keep your dignity in whateverway you can. I'm probably going to lose mine after tomorrow.
As for your sympathy for my boss-- don't worry: she needs none. The woman's asneaky little bitch, using the receptionists as spies, laying guilt trips onKorean and expat teachers to get them to do her bidding, issuing random threatsabout firing Korean teachers-- even writing up a TWO-PAGE-LONG list ofcomplaints about one of the expat teachers, a newbie named Valery, who in myopinion is trying her best & didn't deserve such shitty treatment (she's onlybeen in Korea for six months). If my boss were to get canned for failing tomanage me, that'd be icing on the cake.
Part of what allows me (or any expat here, for that matter) to think and act soextravagantly is that being fired isn't a tragedy. There's no black mark onyour permanent record-- all hagwon (language institute) jobs are shady to somedegree or other. In all likelihood, you've been fired for unfair reasons.That's typical of many expats in Korea. Foreigners who toe the line to theKorean bosses' satisfaction almost never receive extra perks for their goodbehavior (or the perks are insultingly minimal). If anything, they're screwedharder, because they've proven they can be used. It doesn't pay to be a goodlittle soldier in a Korean business.
In such a poisonous environment, idealistic talk about upholding a contractmeans little.
I loved the poem all the same, but thought I should inform you of the uglyrealities here.
BTW, as I blogged before, my brother already gave me the "stick to the contract"lecture. Heh. Yeah, in a perfect world...
Kevin
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