Unlikely Remembrances

Yesterday was my final day of employment after working for the preceding 7 months at the easiest, most comfortable, and most convenient office that I’ve yet experienced (nay, ever HEARD OF). It began as a typical Thursday morning, with the customary 3 hours spent studying email and researching Facebook. We then had lunch, followed by the (only one of the day, and) final class with this month's studious and perfectly well-mannered trifecta of clients. They brought us snacks and cupcakes, we spent the next hour playing our favorite vocabulary game, and they fawned over and reminded us what great teachers we were before they left. A generally spectacular income method.

Before close of business, along with my colleagues, I spent the afternoon packing boxes in preparation for the movers’ arrival the following morning. One after another, there became bare shelves and bottoms of drawers that I didn’t even know existed. We then went all throughout the office taping little pink sheets to all of the necessary items that we would need for our new location. Upon closing the doors, the space looked so clean and empty, as if not a soul had ever spent a day within those walls.


Over the course of the kilometer walk back to my fantastic apartment, which felt like the longest time this trip had ever taken, I started to wonder what I will miss most about this work location. Maybe the ability to roll out of bed 30 minutes before clocking in for work.. Maybe the immediate proximity to the restaurants and establishments that I’ve loved for the past year.. Maybe being able to walk home for lunch to raid my fridge’s free leftovers; all while listening to a perfect musical selection for that particular day, creating the leftovers for the next day, and getting all of the daily chores done..

As I’m pondering the amazing life that I’ve been leading, a shadow shoves itself into the corner of my eye. Not surprisingly, it’s the regular gaggle of local mall employees that I see everyday, also leaving from their respective stores and kiosks. I hesitate for a second to let them pass, when at the end of the line, I experience yet another almost daily confrontation. It’s a man (who I have suitability begun calling ‘Kim Min Soo’), walking towards me in that distinctive unsteady gait. Originally, the path-crossings with Kim were merely annoyances, a 15-second waste of time that I was routinely forced to bear. Put in Western terms, Kim is just another irritating homeless drunk that reeks of soju and stale cigarettes. And if he were a fellow Westerner capable of speaking my language, I would probably despise him until the day I die due to his endless practice of pan handling. But he is not, and cannot. And so oddly, I do not. Consequently, since Kim is unable to ask me for my spare Won, all he can do is stare at me through his one good eye, put his hands above his head to form the shape of a heart, and flash me a toothless grin.

Mr. Kim’s been performing this strange behavior each time we’ve made eye contact for the past several months, which initially struck me as if he were searching for some universal nonverbal sign that he could display for me so that I would pity him & empty my pockets to fund his ethanol consumption habit (which is, by the way, literally what soju is). To which I mentally replied, “Hey Kim, how about a tip? Try getting a job, starting with cleaning that garbage you call a house.” So, needless to say, I’ve never shown him a penny. But he’s still continued to smile at me and sign his gigantic over-the-head heart, a service that I never once commissioned, or even acknowledged.

Obviously, I’ve given some thought to Mr. Kim lately, as he continues to confound me with each consecutive encounter. Possibly, he actually has been attempting to present me with some sort of kind gesture. Or maybe it really should confirm my original suspicions: that he’s just asking for money in the only way he knows how. But I’ve decided that his intention doesn’t even matter, and I’m best off by sticking with the former reasoning. So yesterday when Min Soo gave me the signal, I reached MY hands skyward, formed the heart-shaped gesture, and smiled back at him.

Here's an image of a much younger, cleaner version of Mr. Kim: