Well, if they were buying a pig in a poke, so was I. Taking this job had
been a risk. The offer was an airfare, accommodation, and somewhat better
money after taxes than I might land for a walk-in-off-the-street teaching
job in Sydney. All I had to go on in Sydney was a terse e-mail that had said
"We have a job if you want it. Come quickly because term has started." My
careful enquiries about the nature of the college, the students, what books
to bring, and above all the kind of visa they wanted me to arrange ... had
gone unanswered. I knew that a work visa would take about twenty days, and
need a signed contract plus all sorts of documentation from the college.
Come quickly, they had said. Alright, let's take a punt. I sent back an e-mail
making clear that I could come in a few days on a visitor's visa. They would
have to arrange the other stuff later. And so it had happened.
Anyway, we had some business to attend to on this first day of acquaintance.
The small matter of an employment contract. Oh yes, and the working visa.
I would have to make a short trip to Japan for that, maybe tomorrow, said
Professor CH optimistically. I look at him sideways. Not the hint of a smile.
Heck, what planet were we on? And how will you pay for that, I wondered.
Shock, horror. Oh no, the contract offered a plane fare OR visa reimbursement
to Japan. You, Thor, would have to pay for the Japan excursion. And pigs
can fly... The time to lay that one on was while I was in Sydney. You had
an urgent need. I did you a favour.. My skills were in demand, there were
other employment options.. Sigh. So quickly into the sticky web. Everything,
it seemed, had to be written in blood. Here they had inveigled me to gamble
on a plane fare halfway around the world, could deny everything -- what's
a badly printed e-mail worth? Well, bugger 'em. They could decide if they
wanted a professional or not. I'd have a nice holiday and go home again ...
Stalemate. We broke for lunch.
In the early afternoon it was time to meet the owner's proxy, the acting
director of the college -- for this was a private institution (although heavily
regulated by the government). Professor EK, the acting director, was also
a man approaching early middle age, still with the vigour of youth, a
well-preserved medium build, glasses, a business shirt without a tie. We
shook hands, and began to re-run the morning's agenda. A contract, yes of
course. The visa, sigh, a pained look, no he hadn't heard about that. Yes,
of course I would have to pay for the trip to Japan.. Not this guy, I said
dryly. The trouble was, I didn't understand Korean culture, the acting director
cajoled me. This was a small matter. In Korea I would find many unexpected
things. If I became stubborn over something so trivial, well, maybe I would
be unhappy here. Anything to do with Japan didn't sound like trivial money
to me. Besides, this was a private organization. Surely they could find so
"trivial" a sum. Ah, I didn't understand the organization .. The acting director
had no power, he argued, to spend the college's money. Only the finance
department could do that. Besides, if they paid for me, well, the would have
to pay for everyone to go to Japan...
So was this conundrum a frequent issue, I wondered... Oh no, professor CH
has made a careless mistake said the acting director. "I didn't make any
mistake", cut in the aggrieved professor. Mm, no love lost there. They had
a new policy, reglossed the acting director. Some foreign professors had
caused problems, so now they wanted to interview everyone before actually
signing a contract. Really? So was the college, as a matter of regular policy,
bringing foreign teachers in from overseas on a vague promise of employment,
then telling them to fund their own way to Japan for a visa after they arrived
-- just in case they got a job? Wasn't that a bit .. deceptive? Let's compromise,
suggested the acting director. We will give you some extra work to pay off
the cost of the Japan trip... Thanks, but no thanks, I demurred. Was this
kind of "generosity" a regular part of the negotiations too? Ah well, this
discussion wasn't progressing. I'm busy said the acting director. Come back
at 4.15pm.
At 4.15pm I waited by the acting director's door. He brushed past me, saying
that Professor CH would talk to me presently, then he sidled back for a quick
re-try. "You know we can't pay you to go to Japan. I offered you a compromise
[extra work]..." I looked him in the eye and said no thanks. "Ah, you are
a stubborn man.. " Presently the other gent appeared, and suggested we should
find a quiet place to negotiate. We elbowed our way into a room piled up
with old office furniture, and sat facing each other across a long table.
The acting director was annoyed, said Professor CH. It wasn't just a matter
of the money. If I had agreed to everything right off, there would have been
no problem. Now they really had to decide whether I was a suitable person
to employ. They didn't want a trouble-maker... Hmm, new arrival to trouble-maker
in half a day. That was rapid progress. Clearly these guys had painted themselves
into a corner because they certainly needed staff.
Maybe a little lateral thinking could help them. I had an inspiration. My
air ticket from Australia quoted an IATA fare (International Air Transport
Association), and like many such quoted fares it was a work of fiction, rather
more than the real price paid through an agent on the mean streets of Sydney.
If the college could see their way clear to pay me that IATA fare, well,
we could all be net winners. I carefully pointed out the discrepancy between
the real fare and what was printed on the ticket. The was apparently a new
area of trickery to Professor CH, but he brightened at once, and studied
the ticket obsessively. He hurried across the hallway to discuss it with
the acting director as I watched wryly from a distance. They went into conference
in a burble of Korean, bringing in a third, hatchet faced man as a consultant.
Then the acting director went back to his important job, and my mentor led
me back to the room of junk furniture. My magic ticket was safely stored
in his shirt pocket; (I rescued it the next day, fearing a fatal accident
with his wife's washing machine).
Professor CH looked pensive. It really was a matter of deciding whether to
employ me.. The fare question? .. oh yes, that was, um, an acceptable solution.
The finance department would only pay the value printed on the ticket anyway.
No, the real receipt was irrelevant. But you know, the acting director was
concerned about my attitude .. I looked contrite, and said that this was
difficult for me too. Really, the college provided no information to prospective
foreign employees. I offered to recode the college's web page in English.
After a suitable interval to indicate the acting director's reluctant good
grace, I was ushered again into the presence. He fenced a little, then offered
me four copies of the contract to sign (yours and mine, Korean and English).
So I duly signed, and he pointedly didn't sign, putting them aside before
ushering me out. I had been timetabled to teach that evening, said the acting
director as we parted. I looked diplomatically bland, and wondered to myself.
For those last words revealed a choreography that was almost childishly artless.
Ce la vie. Well, the gentleman was welcome to rescue his dignity with a little
symbolism. As for me, I'd be persuaded of our agreement's bona fides when
their refund cheque was safely in my bank account -- and that no doubt was
some way down the track.
The head of department seemed personable enough. "If you have any psychological
problems, come and see me at once", he invited pleasantly. I wondered aloud
if many of the foreign professors had psychological problems? "All of them",
the professor joked. Maybe he had a point. The kind of individual who winds
up teaching English on the precarious margins of a foreign society does not
necessarily fall inside the "norms" of those psychological profile tests
beloved of large organizations. You know, the ones which weed out anyone
with an ounce of initiative ("not team players"), or a propensity to original
ideas ("troublemakers"). The thought police ("human relations managers")
who gatekeep in such places are always posting advertisements along the lines
of "..We need six extraordinary individuals now ..!!!" (meaning, of course,
six extraordinarily bland individuals). Sungsim College of Foreign Languages,
was, after all, another large organization, and no doubt populated with a
Korean local army of carefully chosen, trouble-free slaves. So the head of
department may have felt a little put upon to find himself in a seller's
market. He was obliged to hire a motley crew of wandering outsiders who,
by some accident of birth happened to speak English as a native language,
but also who, almost by definition, would spell anarchy to the permed and
shaven HR managers of their native lands. And it was true that some of them
probably *did* wear hair shirts. The professor spoke at length about the
sad story of an alcoholic foreigner they had been forced to sack. A cheerful
beginning. Was I walking into a civil war?
.