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"So, Ms. Kim, what are your plans this weekend?" I asked. Ms Kim gave me a blank look. Then, rather sheepishly, she responded with one word. "Sleeping," she said.
It was an uninspired answer to an uninspiring question ― but it was a question I had been told to ask.
It was autumn 1989 and I, a penniless backpacker tooling around Asia, had made landfall in Korea. Here, it was rumored, natives of the Anglosphere could make good coin as English teachers. And so it proved: I was immediately snapped up.
Although I knew virtually nothing about pedagogy, language acquisition or grammar, I was confidently informed by the hagwon owner that as a "native speaker," I was perfectly qualified. Then I was shoved into a classroom.
The students wanted "free talk," so I had been advised to ignore the textbook and ask them about personal matters ― their jobs, their lives and so forth. Hence my question: "Ask about their interests," I thought. "That should get the conversation flowing." Reality proved otherwise.
I proceeded to the next student. "Mr. Park: How about you? What are your hobbies?" His answer was identical. And so it went, around the classroom. Nobody, it seemed, had either weekend plans or hobbies.
Needless to say, my "free talking" class proved unsuccessful.
What I had not known was that in the late 1980s, rest was a luxury for Koreans. Enduring endless work days and six-day work weeks, few people had the energy to do much more than zonk out on the weekends.
Moreover, in the hard-working, ferociously ambitious Korea of the late 1980s, fun was considered frivolous. Unsurprisingly, there was barely a leisure industry: Hobbies extended to video gaming, drinking or ― for the truly energetic ― hiking.
Today's leisure scene is a world away from the bad old days. Multiple developments have transformed attitudes.
The kinder, gentler Korea that gradually appeared in the aftermath of 1987's democratization meant that the focus of the individual Kim, Park or Lee was no longer exclusively on work. The overseas travel boom of the early 1990s gave Koreans a taste of foreign leisure and tourism, while the rising economy granted higher disposable incomes. And the advent of a five-day workweek in 2004 ― giving salarymen the precious gift, of a Saturday ― was a huge boost.
Today, Seoulites can relax in a jimjilbang or jet ski on the Han. Swanky cineplexes and stylish art galleries beckon. Classes teach everything from yoga to home-brewing. And nightlife is more than just soju: the apres-work scene is sizzling
Even so, old habits die hard. In 2014, the OECD found that Koreans endured the second-longest working hours in the organization (after Mexicans). The average Korean worked 2,163 hours per year, 393 hours more than the OECD average.
And although today's Koreans have longer holidays than did their forebears, many don't take their allotted vacations. Lee Charm, who headed the Korea National Tourism Organization under the previous administration, told me he was so frustrated at this that he toured major companies, haranguing bosses and urging employees to take holidays.
Many salarymen and executives are apparently reluctant to leave the office for more than a few days, for fear of being considered hedonists by management. A further worry is that those who leave their workplace may find themselves on the "outside" of office politics; Mr. Kim may return with a suntan, only to find his rival Mr. Lee has usurped his position as the apple of the boss's eye.
Their reluctance to relax may explain Koreans' long working hours/low-productivity dilemma, and their sky-high stress rates.
But fun is not frivolous, for the service sector's importance is rising. According to Index Mundi in 2013, 6 percent of global GDP comprised agriculture, 30.7 percent comprised industry and 63.3 percent comprised services.
And travel and tourism makes up a considerable chunk of the latter: The World Travel and Tourism Council found that the sector made up 9.9 percent of global jobs and 9.5 percent of global GDP in 2014.
With Korean lying slap-bang between two of the world's biggest tourist markets ― Japan and China ― there is every reason to upgrade the local sector. Moreover, many leisure/tourism businesses ― boutique bars and restaurants, family-run hotels, niche tour operators ― are an overlooked sub-sector of "the creative economy."
So if you are a salaryman reading this, I say: Ignore old-fashioned attitudes! Escape the office, grab the family and take a vacation! You will return more relaxed and more energized, so you will be more productive when you get back (at least, temporarily). The sector needs your money, attention and patronage.
For reasons of both national well-being and hard economics, the issue of "fun" must increasingly be considered a serious business.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
