Impressions of South Korea: Work Ethic 4

Saul Bellow once said that more Americans die of heartbreak rather than anything else. Every time I've tried to really help out an American, I feel like I've been totally had, totally manipulated, totally fooled. Every time I've put my heart into this country, I've felt intense, lonely pain. I've felt like a wounded animal, ashamed of its wound.

There have been times when I've been totally evil. I had a problem with lies. I used to love to lie. I still use a white lie now and then. There have been times when I've looked at Caucasians with a hostile and hating eye. I've realized over time that it is not them that I hate.

Why was my motivation so connected with trying to find a home in America? Why was my work ethic so connected with how Americans perceived me?

My father-in-law wants to do floors in my other salons. The floor in one salon is linoleum. We wash the floor with a mop. He is very thorough and intense. Then he takes a little razor blade and chips off all the pieces of various random things that have been stuck on the floor for years. I keep on thinking about how long this is going to take. I tell him that we have to get out by 11 pm. Here and there, I voluntarily help him. Here and there, I tell him that I really want to help. He asks me why no one has done this. I tell him about the high cost of cleaning the floor. I tell him that the hair stylist will mop the floor, but they won't do this.

It takes us 3 hours to clean and strip the floor. He gets around all the edges, tries his best to get out all the stains, and keeps on looking at the floor to verify that it is clean before he applies the seal. He wants to clean the stone tiles in the retail area with the Oreck. I volunteer to do that. I try to do a better job this time by looking at the floor to see whether it is really being cleaned. Sometimes, I redo a spot.

We get out of the salon at around 12 am. We started at around 7pm. As we drive back home, I begin to wonder if we are going to work like this every day.

My wife, my father-in-law, my mother-in-law, and I spend an entire day cleaning the carpet in my condominium. He goes over the carpet seven times with a steam carpet cleaner. He cleans spot stains over and over again. Sometimes the stains diffuse because we rub it too many times. Other times, we really succeeded in getting out the stains. Some of the carpet is hardened from being overstreamed. I find myself trying to find faults with his method. I am happy when I find some of his mistakes.

I often wonder, "What is my father-in-law motivated by?" I see him reading the Bible and making notes. I see him walking around with his arms crossed behind his back.

Why isn't he just satisfied with mediocrity? Why try to do such a thorough and professional job? After all, this society does not care about us. They certainly don't love us. He didn't know that though...

I often find that I cannot communicate my thoughts to him or that it does not matter. What matters is that we do good things for one's family and for God.

But what do I do with this baggage that I'd inherited from some Americans? How do I deal with the negativity, the hatred, and the confusion?