March 12 Office Casual

As I become more accustomed to Korean social traditions—removing my shoes when I enter a restaurant, sitting on the floor to eat, picking things out of communal platters and bowls with my chopsticks or my spoon—a new problem has arisen. Many people have reached out to me, taking me out to lunch or dinner, and I would like to reciprocate. That is, I want to continue to socialize, to take the initiative, and to carry my share of the expense. (There is, apparently, no “Dutch treat,” at least not at a visible level, in Korean socializing. Someone always picks up the tab.) The problem is that even after a month here I am still viewed as the guest, and whichever Korean I am with assumes the role of the host. For example, on Monday I stopped by the desk of Lee Lim Moo, a man who worked at the City of Seattle for a year back in the mid-90s and who took me out to dinner my first day of work in Daejeon. I like him and I invited him to have lunch with me. He seemed happy about that and readily agreed. Then he invited four or five of his fellow managers to join us and insisted that I would be his guest for lunch.

Now, in Seattle I could handle this kind of problem by simply outmaneuvering him for the bill or even arranging with the restaurant ahead of time to make sure that I got the check. But in a Korean restaurant, where my language skills are limited at best, that’s hard to do. I’m sure I’ll work something out eventually, but for now, it’s a little embarrassing.

I find that my co-workers are also still very interested in the details of my daily life. Some of that is, I think, out of concern. “What did you do this weekend? Really? You took the bus by yourself?” And some is just curiosity. “What did you have for breakfast today? What did you have for dinner last night? Really? You cook?” Stories of my fixing food for myself in my apartment always elicit shock and amazement (and maybe a little well-placed concern, too.) Some of the more progressive Korean men I have talked with will admit to “helping” their wives with the housework, but none, so far, has confided that he cooks. I try to encourage them, but I don’t see a lot of hope.

One thing that is not a problem for me so far is what to wear to the office. As you have probably seen from previous posts, Korean office-wear is pretty consistently formal, at least by current US standards. Men invariably wear dark suits (I brought three), dress shirts (I brought many) and ties (likewise.) Women wear dark slacks or skirts, a blouse, and usually a dark jacket or sweater. Formality, however, ends at the ankle. Many men remove their shoes after they are at their desks and slip into a pair of sandals. And the women—well, once inside the office, anything goes.