What Am I Doing?

This is a question that I have been asking myself ever since graduating from University this past May. I finished my BA at McGill in History and Cultural Studies with high hopes and a healthy (lethal?) dose of promise for the real world. I spent my summer searching for ‘the perfect job’ in addition to simply enjoying the freedom of newly-graduated life. After many “silly Blake, the real world isn’t like that” realisations about working life and the true functionality of a Bachelor of Arts in modernity, I finally landed a 9-5 communications position in Montreal around late-July. While definitely not my ideal job, this position certainly helped wise me up to just how a 9-5 office job feels and exactly what is expected from a cubicle-based existence and all that goes along with such. (I can feel your collective shudder).

Within a few months of starting this gig, I soon found myself reaching the soul-searching point that every 40-something office worker experiences. I cursed my growing gut and shrinking hairline whilst de-clogging my drain of grey hairs and thought: is this really what I want to be doing right now? (Note: I will be turning 23 in May).

(Un)luckily, this existential crisis was quickly solved for me with the arrival of our good friend Mr. Recession in mid-October. This grand entrance shook the foundations of corporate ladders across the globe and those on the bottom rungs of such (myself included) inevitably got flung off into the unemployed abyss.

Being out of work was frustrating for a time, but it inevitably allowed me the opportunity to reflect on my life and properly prioritise my short-term needs and desires. The 9-to-5 was doable enough to make a living and build my resume for a future career, but it is something that I will be able to swallow much easier once I have a station wagon and a yard and real-life adult responsibilities of that nature. I guess that I can reluctantly concede my 30s, 40s, and 50s to slitting the throats of my friends for the sake of getting ahead and selling my soul to some Soylent Green-esque corporation. I’ll be damned, however, if I am going to while away the rest of my 20s in some fluorescent-lit cubicle listening to Rick talk about what a hottie Janice from HR is in the next stall and being grilled on whether or not I’ve finished updating last week’s figures on the y2-7 form yet. The answer will undoubtedly be no.

When the calendar changed to ’09 I decided I had better get to the ‘doing’ stage of changing my situation and I actually set the ball in motion for my Korean adventure in earnest. The requirements are simple: an undergraduate degree (from any University in any field), and English as your native language. Since every single primary school in South Korea (public or private) requires at least one (usually white) Westerner to teach English, the country is bursting with employment opportunities for the adventurous young American, Canadian, Brit, Irishman, Aussie, Kiwi, or South African (the only countries allowed to teach by the Korean government). I located a favourable contract with the help of a pretty good recruiting company and, after some light red-tape cutting and paperwork hocus-pocus, was on a flight within less than a month. What follows is an account of my various (mis)adventures here in Suji and the many wonders of a modern vagabond existence. Please enjoy.