The Beat December 2002

Well here I am once again, a foot and a half away from my laptop and preparing to intrigue the public with another smattering from my peculiar existence. To my left is an ashtray with the smouldering remains of yet another dead soldier. To my right is my space heater that I haven‘t yet had the guts to turn on. I‘m wearing my wool hat, thermal underwear, army fatigues, wool socks, sweatshirt, sweater, jacket, and crumbs from a grilled cheese sandwich.

Why am I dressed for Everest base camp and not cranking the heat? ’Cause I‘m as cheap as they come with trivial everyday expenses. I can‘t bear the thought of spending the extra coin on the voltage this bad boy will leech out. Conversely, I can and do grasp the paradox of spending 4,000 bones on jazzy hi-tech computer stuff, or dropping a grand on airfare once in awhile.

The little things do add up. I proved this to myself with a social experiment last June. I decided to see exactly how little cash I would need to get by. I paid for my internet, my cellular and landlines, ate the school rations, took the subway, cut back to a pack every 3 days, and took a couple of Stouts home on the weekends. Frugality paid off; I survived off of 150,000 won that penny-pinching and dismal month. Yay me.

I now spend 10,000 won daily for coffee and cigarettes by day, and then carry it over to beer and a cab ride by night. Each weekend I drop another hundred at the bar, and over a Sunday lunch with the gang at one of those over-priced Western restaurants. I continue to pay my regular bills and live an almost saturated life at still under 500,000 a month.

But why is it that I still feel guilty if I shell out for a new paperback or CD? Why must I download a flick instead of going to the bloody theatre? Why must my daily rice consist of my daily kimchi? Hot Damn! I‘m a well-paid teacher! Why aren‘t the necessities as important as my all too necessary ride on the good time train?

I came here with the primary motive of repaying tens of thousands to those guys at the bank back home that were greedy enough to lend me money. Upon my arrival, I was under such heavy interest payments each month that I had no choice but to send at least three quarters of my salary each month. I‘ve kept up this practice for two years and I‘m now two weeks away from being debt free. Again, yay me!

The reality is however; I don‘t need to live under these restrictions I set up for myself. I should not feel the need to steal a roll of toilet paper from the office, or fill my water with the office water cooler. I‘ve never once bought a single garbage bag in Korea because I don‘t eat at home, and the only garbage I make are cigarette butts which I bag up and carry to the trash at work or the subway. I eat at school and if I want something sweet, I‘ll rely on the kids for what I call “Teacher Tax”, meaning: you wanna eat that box o‘ Pepero in my class, Bub, well you gonna bloody well share!

But let‘s bring it back to the “Bobo” (Bohemian-Bourgeoisie) phenomenon I‘ve discovered within myself (and a suitable title from a book I‘ll borrow from a buddy because I‘m to damn cheap to buy it myself). I‘m downright chintzy when it comes to a couple of dollars, but I still spend obscene amounts on chattel I don‘t really need. For instance, a $300 pair of Versace sunglasses (with a logo no one can see, so what‘s the difference?), a $70 North Face Shirpa hat (with a really big and distracting logo I‘m not sure I even like), and a $100 out-of-print Hunter Thompson book that took 4 months of bidding to get from E-Bay.

Yeah, just where are my priorities? Bargain hunting for tampons and toothpaste, but whippin‘ out the plastic for some materialistic crap I‘ll just have to spend more money shipping home one day. Good golly, I am a freak with a penchant for petty workplace kleptomania. Well, I‘ll sign off for now, I‘ve got to go raid the photocopier so I can make some Christmas cards I‘ll be sending in the office envelopes.