Out and about taking care of business today.  Awhile back I mentioned the fiasco involving an insurance company issuing a check for roof repairs in the name of my dead father.  Thanks to some sleuthing by my son we found the potential fix.  It involves submitting a petition to the Probate Court to reopen the estate for the purpose of depositing said check (it’s over $14,000 so it’s a pretty big deal to poor folks like us).

So, I completed the petition (which to the county’s credit was in a handy PDF format).  I’m just hoping I checked all the right boxes.  Once I had filled in and printed out the form I needed to get my signature notarized.  I had checked with my bank on post and was disappointed to learn they did not offer that service.  Plan B was to visit the office of the Judge Advocate General (JAG).  And that’s what I set out to do.

I arrived at noon only to discover the *ahem* JAG was off.  Until 1300 anyway.  So the wife and I enjoyed us some Burger King and then sat outside soaking up some fine spring weather.

That’s me being patient.

At the appointed hour I scored ticket #2 in the waiting queue and soon enough I was at the counter.  I dutifully showed my Army contractor ID card and the soldier/notary asked to see my “orders”, by which he meant the paperwork I was provided when I was granted SOFA status.  Well you know, I just don’t carry those around with me and I haven’t even looked at them since I arrived back in Korea.  The soldier explained that unless my “orders” specifically included access to legal services he was not authorized to help me. I told him I assumed they did as I had been granted all the normal rights and privileges. He didn’t want to take my word for it though.  I explained I’d made a 45 minute trip in from Gireum and I really needed to get this done today.  He said he’d check with a higher up but he expected the answer would be no.  Shortly thereafter he returned and said there was no higher up available.  I gave him my best woe-is-me routine and he finally relented and notarized my signature, for which I thanked him profusely.

Next stop was the Army Post Office where I utilized Priority Mail to send the documents off to South Carolina.  Easy peezy.

Then we moved on to the bank and withdrew money to pay the rent.  Long line, but it moved fast enough I reckon.  While I had been taking care of business with the JAG, Jee Yeun had been looking through the PX circular and spotted a purse she coveted.  I pointed out that she already had a perfectly fine purse but she said it was a “winter” purse and she needed a new one for summer.  Finding it hard to argue with a logic I didn’t understand, I agreed to go to the PX after we finished our bank business.

Alright, I’m not much of a shopper.  And shopping for purses is just not something I have much comfort level doing.  But I had a picture from the circular, so how hard could it be? Excruciatingly difficult as it turned out.  I eventually found a rack with the brand of the desired purse on display, but no purse that matched the picture (or the price) of the one in the circular.  Finding a salesperson in the PX is like looking for water in the desert, but after awhile I snagged one who was hurrying by (probably trying to avoid me).  She also could not find the purse so she called out to a male employee who gruffly stated “not in stock” and walked off.  So Jee Yeun still doesn’t have a summer purse and I wasted precious minutes of my life.  (Ha, sorta like you are doing by reading this post!)

We walked back to the Dragon Hill Lodge gate to sign off post and my left leg was screaming the whole way.  Yep, it’s still doing that.  Comes and goes, and usually if I sit down for a few minutes the pain lessens and I can move along.  I needed to get to the commissary and Jee Yeun was heading into Itaewon to do the money exchange thing, so we shared a cab.  While shopping I ran into my soon to be former boss and he confirmed that legal services was included in my “orders”.  So, there’s that.

Having purchased exactly $135.00 in groceries I wasn’t feeling up to lugging them out to the bus stop.  So I grabbed one of the waiting cabs and told the driver “here’s the deal, I’m going to give you a very short fare but I’m going to pay you W5000 for it”.  He was down with that (and even turned off the meter) and five minutes later I was at the bus stop.  The 143 arrived just after I did, and we were on to Gireum-dong.

And the gaenalee is blooming.

And that’s how my day went.

Well, today wasn’t supposed to be a work day but it turned into one regardless.  The big boss called a staff meeting for 8:15 this morning so of necessity my alarm caused me to arouse from my slumber at six (no easy feat after dart night!  Which went extraordinarily well; my 10-2 performance contributing to a 26-13 victory).  Since I was non-scheduled my attendance was likely not mandatory, but I figured showing the flag couldn’t hurt. Besides, I planned on making a commissary run today anyway, albeit not so damn early in the morning.  About halfway through the meeting the boss asked me when I had to catch my bus to K-16. I told him I wasn’t working.  That seemed to impress him and he told me to “take back the time from K-16”, which I take to mean cut one of my shifts down for the hour I spent in his meeting. Well, my clients expect me to be there during my posted working hours and I don’t want to let them down.  And even if I wanted to cut out early I’m a slave to the bus schedule and there is nothing to be had an hour earlier.  Ah well, it’s the thought that counts.

At the conclusion of the meeting I was awarded this blue ribbon. Or should have been.

So, I took the base bus to the commissary and then remembered that it doesn’t open until 10:00.  Well, it’s opens a 7:00 for “early bird” shoppers, but in those circumstances you are limited to 20 items or less.  My shopping list was much larger than that, so I sat around until a quarter to the hour and commenced selecting my groceries at a leisurely pace, and thus completed my rounds well after the appointed time for full-on shopping.

Regularly readers may recall that one of the few issues I have in my Korea life is with taxis.  This problem seems to also include the on-base taxi drivers. I noticed this yesterday when I took a cab from the PX into Itaewon.  Why take a cab when it’s an easy walk you ask?  Well, I was carrying 24 cans of Diet Coke in my back pack for one thing. And I’m having some pain issues with my left leg which makes no walk easy. Anyway, the fare is usually around W3000, but the driver yesterday appeared to be intentionally missing every light, yielding to other vehicles unnecessarily, and drove at an inordinately slow rate of speed.  By the time I arrived at my destination he had managed to work the fare up W4400.  The joke was on him though because I always pay W5000 for the ride, the difference between the meter and that amount constituting the tip.  My Korean is not good enough to say “you just fucked yourself buddy”, but that was my thought as I exited the cab.

Today when I entered the commissary before it’s proper opening time there were five cabs waiting for fares.  When I exited with my groceries there was not a cab in sight.  The guy behind me in the taxi queue called dispatch at least twice asking for cabs to be sent to the commissary.  Twenty minutes later still no rides.  When a cab finally did come, I let the guy who called take it.  Only seemed fair.  Ten more minutes and I was able to snag a cab dropping off a passenger.  The bastards at dispatch couldn’t be bothered I guess.  So after I finished loading my groceries in the trunk the driver asked “where to?”  I told him I’ll give you a choice, Ichon station (a W3000 ride) or Gireum station (a W20,000 fare).  He didn’t hesitate to say “Ichon please”.  So, Ichon it was.

After schlepping three large bags and a jam packed backpack down the stairs, the first train to come by was overflowing.  The next train was only two minutes away and I hoped there would be room for me and my groceries on that one.  Thankfully, that proved to be the case.  I scored the wheelchair area which afforded ample space to store my bags and a wall for me to lean against.  An ajussi encouraged me to sit with him in the seats reserved for the elderly and infirm.  Although I am both, I still didn’t feel right about it so I respectfully declined.

Admittedly, I went a little overboard with my purchases today. Around $180. worth (a new record!) and I didn’t have Jee Yeun with me to help share the burden.

Holy crap, how am I going to get this shit home? It turns out with great difficulty.

I was on the wrong end of the train which necessitated traversing the entire length of Gireum station.  When I reached my exit I was distressed to see the escalator was out of service.  So I walked over to the other side and took a functioning escalator ride to the top. My arms were already screaming at this point, but I bravely marched on.  It’s an uphill walk to the apartment building and I had to stop for a rest about halfway home.  But by god, I got it done and now the larders are well-stocked with some old-fashioned American goodness.

I don’t always eat frozen peas, but when I do I like them smothered in Sweet Baby Ray’s!

Not really.  But I reckon there is someone out there who does.

My haul from today’s excursion to Yongsan Garrison.

As mentioned in my previous post, among the petty annoyances I’ve been experiencing was a non-functioning printer.  I rectified that this afternoon with the purchase of the HP Deskjet 1512 pictured above.  The printer was the cheapest of the lot I looked at ($49.95), but it prints and scans and that’s all I require.  Of course, the connecting cables sold separately ($7.95) and I went ahead and bought an extra ink cartridge for $23.95.  It’s astounding that the ink costs almost half as much as the actual printer. The other items I brought home are gas canisters for grill, eyeglass wipes, DayQuill, a box of Popeye’s chicken and a Whopper Jr. for Jee Yeun.  Not pictured is the strawberry shake I enjoyed on the way home.

Basic, but functional.

With the printer assembled I was able to scan and email all my tax documents to the accountant back in South Carolina.  So that’s one less thing to worry about.  Until it comes time to pay at least.  Last year my federal return was almost enough to pay my SC taxes. We’ll see.

I called the insurance company again about the claim on my parent’s house (see previous post for details on that cluster fuck).  Got directed to voice mail yet again.  Called back and spoke with the receptionist.  Told her I’ve been trying to reach Ms. Sheehan for two days, she cut me off and said I’ll transfer you.  Of course, it went to voice mail.  So, I called back more than a little irritated and said this is a matter of some urgency and Ms. Sheehan is not answering her phone.  She said let me transfer you to the manager.  And you guessed it, I got his voice mail.  I left a message with him, but I don’t expect he’ll call me back in Korea.

At least my job is not stressful, except when it is.  Four months in and I’m still not able to access the computer network.  The big boss isn’t happy and told my boss he wants it resolved.  My boss emailed me and basically said get it done.  I’m not sure what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.  When I took the initiative to get the printer fixed it backfired.  I was working with the IMO (Information Management Office) and they were unable to resolve the issue.  For some reason, the IMO contacted the big boss and he didn’t like being blindsided.  My boss told me to keep the big boss in the loop in the future, and the big boss told me not to contact the IMO again, just let him know and he would deal with them directly.  Bottom line, I still don’t have a functioning printer in the computer lab. Which means I regularly have to disappoint soldiers who come to use our facility.  I’ve always been customer service oriented so I find that extremely frustrating.

Otherwise, the job is a pretty sweet gig.  Twenty hours a week at next to no pay and no real responsibility.  Boring as hell though.  If the other job comes through I may very well miss the easy working life as the King of the K-16 Multi-Use Learning Facility.

The company I work for sent me this nifty name tag. It’s the little things that matter. Like spelling my damn name correctly.

It occurs to me I’ve not worn a name tag since I was an 18 year old convenience store clerk.  That job was somewhat more challenging in that I worked graveyard shift and occasionally got robbed.  Well, once I got robbed then I quit*.  I decided $2.00 per hour wasn’t enough to put up with threats to kill me if I didn’t hand over the cash.  Robbers can’t get past base security at K-16 though, so I’m golden.

*Actually I quit a couple of days later when the company wanted to give ME a polygraph to see if the robbery had been an inside job.  They were suspicious because I had failed to do a cash drop and had $60. in the cash drawer as opposed to the mandated maximum of $30.  I told them fuck you very much.  Literally.

Imagine being born and raised in the U.S.A.  You work your way through the public education system and earn a degree from the University of Washington.  Like many young people you find yourself saddled with student loan debt and working in a dead end job.  So you see an advertisement recruiting folks to teach English in Korea and figure why not?

And so began the nightmare for Young Jin Chun.  When he applied to Korean immigration for an extension of his employment visa he was told he was not eligible because he was already a Korean citizen.  Although Chun’s parents had immigrated to the US several years before he was born, someone (it is not clear who) had his name added to the family register in Korea.  And as far as the Korean government is concerned, that makes you a bonafide Korean.  Chun didn’t think it was that big a deal until he received notice that he was being drafted into the ROK army. That got his attention!

Chun did everything a reasonable person would do to rectify this error, gathering all his records to demonstrate he was as American as an apple pie.  The American embassy in Seoul told him “it’s not our problem”.  The Korean consulate in the USA said he was past the age to renounce his Korean citizenship.  And so it came to pass that he was neatly boxed in by two uncaring governmental bureaucracies.

Chun’s passport was blocked preventing him from leaving Korea.  In desperation he enlisted in the U.S. Army, but as he was preparing to board the aircraft at Osan Air Force Base for basic training at Fort Jackson, SC, Korean immigration nabbed him and shortly thereafter he found himself a 27 year old American conscript in the Korean army.  A Korean soldier who didn’t speak Korean or even like Korean food.

You can read this news account which provides more detail on the events leading up to this insane situation.  Or better yet, you can purchase Chun’s book ($2.99 for the Kindle version at Amazon) and read the sad and sometimes funny account of his life in the Korean military.  That’s what I did and it’s a good read.  After surviving basic training, he was assigned as a linguist with the Second ROK Army in Daegu.  I had to laugh at his account of being called to interpret a meeting between American and Korean Army officers.  He finally had to tell the Americans “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what he’s saying either”.  And when his commanding officer found out about the interview he gave to the Seattle newspaper (linked above) he was on everyone’s shit list.  How bad was it?  So bad that he volunteered to deploy to Afghanistan!  Anyway, read the book.

I was talking to a co-worker who spent many years with the State Department about Young Chun’s adventure and he was incredulous.  At first, he thought the story was made up, but I assured him it was not.  He agreed the U.S. embassy in Seoul is next to worthless, but felt the American government could have and should have intervened on his behalf.  And last night I recounted the tale to a Korean-American friend (also born in the USA) who came to Korea around the same time as Chun and he told me the same thing had almost happened to him.  His father was apparently well-connected with Korean government officials and managed to get him exempted from Korean military service.

And I guess that’s pretty much how the world works–it’s not who you are but who you know.  Chun did survive his adventure at least and I suppose it all turned out as best as could be expected.  I understand he is still living and working in Korea and his Korean language skills have improved immensely.  So there’s that.

A friend of mine here in Korea is getting married next month.  He was shocked to discover that wedding gowns in Korea cost several million won to purchase.  Even a one-day rental was exorbitantly priced.  Seeing as how this is the 21st century and all he checked out some U.S. based websites and found an appropriate dress for half the cost of a rental.  He asked if he could have the gown shipped to my Army Post Office (APO) address and of course I agreed.

As my friend noted on his Facebook page the dress has had quite a journey:

Total distance traveled to arrive in Seoul: 18,950km

Total distance from where it was made to Seoul: 907km

Turns out the wedding gown was manufactured in China, shipped to the U.S., and then mailed back to Korea.  I was proud to carry the package its final 1km or so from the Yongsan post office to Samgakji station where I handed it off to the blushing bride to be.

All in a days work.

Oh, an interesting footnote is that shortly after the nuptials my pal and his wife will be moving back to the USA.  Columbia, SC in fact.  He’ll be attending USC and I imagine in his spare time he’ll get to do some ass kicking in the dart league I founded there.  Small world, eh?