By Casey Lartigue, Jr.
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Some people physically push each out of the way to get to the cash register first. Some argue about who should pay this time, with both or all sides saying they should.
I have seen people sneaking out midway through dinner to pay and really determined people giving their credit cards as soon as they arrived. For the ultimate one-upmanship, someone will buy the restaurant during dinner to say, "Dinner will always be on me."
When people rush to the cash register to pay, I am like a bullfighter meekly waving a red handkerchief. Others could crawl, and still beat me to paying the check.
They say when in Rome to do as the Romans do, but I am perfectly happy with losing an argument about who should pay. When I have argued, it has been with the enthusiasm of an accused criminal confessing to a major crime.
There have been a few times that I was determined to pay, and found myself in tornadoes of arguments with skilled debaters. It seems I haven't read the debating guide, "How to destroy arguments of people trying to pay for your dinner, Volume 1."
However, I had a worthy paycheck fight after my organization engaged with North Korean refugees recently relocated. With a small space in the corner of the kitchen, we hosted Chanyang Ju, a North Korean refugee student in our program.
She is a superwoman ― public speaker, TV personality, YouTuber, college student, mom, even more super than she was when I wrote about her six years ago. She now has started an online business, selling jewelry she handmakes.
I had thought about this before, but with an imminent move to a slightly larger office, I asked Chanyang if she would like to set her up her online business (Seoune) in our office in the days leading up to White Day on March 14. Our internet and telephone wouldn't even be on yet, but we would do our best to publicize her jewelry making workshops.
March 12-14, Chanyang was at our office, showing visitors how to make jewelry. The first day, I bought jewelry for all of our female staffers (hoping that would buy me at least a few weeks of peace). As we wrapped up, Chanyang wanted to give a commission to thank us for welcoming her.
The Paycheck Moment had arrived. I wasn't about to wave ole.
Of course, it was great that she wanted to give a commission. That we had come to this moment was a celebration for the organization. Thanks to our donors and fundraisers, we have a slightly larger office. Why not allow one of the special refugees in the organization to have space to promote and run her business? Hopefully the day will come that she will have her own location.
Just a few years ago, we were on the move. Finally, Kim Chung-ho of the now-defunct Freedom Factory welcomed the then-fledgling TNKR as a project. After two years of being office-less, my desk at Freedom Factory became TNKR's office. Almost seven years later, we are hosting one of our students in our office.
That Paycheck Moment had arrived for both of us. There was no cash register for Chanyang to run to, she couldn't force us to take a commission. I wasn't about to accept it. We were at a standoff.
To break the deadlock, I reminded Chanyang that she had said before that she would like to set up a fundraiser for TNKR. She enthusiastically agreed. She could support TNKR by asking her friends and fans to donate to her fundraiser.
I turned my head, and she did her bum rush to our online cash register. She made a donation, not given a commission, arguing like a lawyer making a distinction without a difference. To avoid me, she started talking in Korean with TNKR co-founder Eunkoo Lee.
She explained she had wanted to set up a fundraiser before, but wasn't sure how. She was giving a donation because it would not look good if there were no donations at her fundraiser, others wouldn't donate to nothing. I had slipped on my own petard, caught up in a tornado of arguments with a lady who was determined to show her appreciation.
I assured her we wanted her to return to our office and hoped her business would take off. I made a note to myself to start drafting my own debating guide to destroy arguments of North Korean refugees trying to give a commission or to donate to show their appreciation.
Casey Lartigue, Jr., co-founder along with Eunkoo Lee of the Teach North Korean Refugees Global Education Center (TNKR), is the 2017 winner of the "Social Contribution" Prize from the Hansarang Rural Cultural Foundation and the 2019 winner of the "Challenge Maker" Award from Challenge Korea.
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