Settling in to my apartment and meeting my wacky teaching colleagues
The apartment had no windows, though a sliding glass door leading to a tiny balcony funneled in a trickle of sunlight. Worse than its size was its smell.
Meeting the head honchos
Eventually the head of HR received me. She was a tiny lady about sixty years old, half-German, half-Thai and 100% mean. She launched into a tirade about the poor behavior of foreign teachers at the school and how awful so many of them were.
The application process
The interview started with a stressed out looking middle-aged lady from HR asking me a few basic questions, probably just gauging whether or not I was sane, didn’t have a speech impediment, a thick regional accent or that I wasn’t too old or disabled
Swapping Korea for Thailand
The job search was looking grim, and I figured I’d either return to Korea or perhaps look back into teaching in America, as the economic situation there had improved. Suddenly, lo and behold, a job ad graced my phone.