"Be careful not to get mixed up with Koreans; there are so many scammers among them. Everyone is just pointlessly full of Jeong. All that talk about sentiment and identity... it sounds so provincial, I can’t stand it."
Lee-jeong spoke these words to Do-ah, who she felt was still stuck in a "Korean" mindset. Even though Lee-jeong’s reflection in the mirror was undeniably "native," her tone suggested she hallucinated herself to be white. Do-ah was so appalled she didn't even have the energy to argue back.
The two had met 30 years ago. Theirs wasn't a friendship, but a strictly business arrangement. Lee-jeong had left Korea as a child, while Do-ah moved to the U.S. after university. The gap between them was as wide as their life paths. Lee-jeong, who lived with her white husband, spat out venom in a calm, "sophisticated" voice. Do-ah, who had a Korean husband, was blunt to a fault. Do-ah often wondered: Does she believe she's actually white because of her husband? Or did her Korean language skills just freeze at a fourth-grade level while her body grew up?
"I mean, how can you hand in work like this? If it's not perfect, I won't even look at it. Do it again. You’ve lived in America this long and yet you've wasted your life."
Lee-jeong was always like this—acting as if she were perfect while her counterpart was "substandard."
"My house cleaner polishes the floors until they shine without me saying a word. My secretary is flawless. But look at you, Do-ah. Do it over."
Am I your maid? Am I your servant? The words rose to Do-ah's throat, but she swallowed them. She knew talking back would only trigger more "insanity." She replied shortly, "Fine. I'll redo it."
The Business of Misery
It started on a beautiful day. Do-ah was in Connecticut, sipping coffee by a window overlooking the misty river. Lee-jeong called with a proposal: Do-ah would make the products, Lee-jeong would sell them, and they’d split the profits. Trusting Lee-jeong’s business savvy and English fluency, Do-ah agreed.
But the "partnership" was a title only. Lee-jeong lectured Do-ah on every little thing, crushing her self-esteem by comparing her to domestic help. Do-ah wanted to quit a thousand times, but because their husbands were also business-linked, she endured. Every time the phone rang, her throat tightened, and she poured another glass of wine to cope.
"Hello? Hello!" a sharp voice barked from the receiver.
"Yes, I'm here. I'll try again," Do-ah said, struggling to stay calm.
"I am someone who works by the second! Do it perfectly so I don't have to touch it twice. Oh, and did you talk to the person who dropped off the materials yesterday?"
"No."
"They just dropped them off and left, and you didn't even discuss the plan?"
"He told me not to worry, so I let it be. We’ve worked together for a long time. He knows what to do because I pay him on time."
"Money, money, money. You think they only work well for money?"
"No, it's just that we've worked together for years without issues..."
"If you talk to them and get feedback, you can make better products!"
The criticism was endless. Even mentioning that the supplier was in a hurry for a dentist appointment became "proof of incompetence" in Lee-jeong's eyes. Do-ah had always been proud of her work, but around Lee-jeong, she felt like a child getting scolded every day.
The Mirror and the Machine
When they first met, Lee-jeong had said, "I don't look at people's flaws. I only speak of their strengths." Do-ah had admired that "refined" manner and tried to emulate it. But as time passed, Lee-jeong used a microscope to find only faults. Even her secretary joined in the badgering.
"You've lived in the U.S. so long and you don't know that word? Did you see the Friday Arts section of the New York Times?"
The subtle mockery of her English made Do-ah's blood boil. If my English were perfect, would I even be working with a nightmare like you? she thought, washing the words down with wine. Even when Do-ah offered soulless praise—"Yes, yes, you're amazing at your job"—Lee-jeong wasn't satisfied. She would hang up and call right back to repeat the same insults.
Do-ah eventually tried to set a boundary: "It would have been better if you reviewed my email and called me tomorrow instead."
Furious, Lee-jeong snapped, "Do you think I have time to waste reviewing your files? I work by the second!"
"Then you seem busy. Hang up and get back to work."
"Make it perfect so you don't waste my precious time!"
Do-ah’s wine consumption grew daily. She suffered from auditory hallucinations of Lee-jeong’s screaming in her sleep and grew visibly thin. Lee-jeong carved through Do-ah’s life like a knife through a fish on a cutting board.
Eventually, Do-ah turned to the teachings of Ven. Pomnyun Sunim on YouTube to find peace: "If there is no benefit, do not meet. Even if there is benefit, if it is too hard to bear, cut it off even at a loss."
One day, Lee-jeong said calmly, "Actually, I am 'charity-ing' my time and money to people."
Charity? Do-ah couldn't believe her ears. This was the woman who had pressured her for more investment. Do-ah finally realized: this wasn't a language barrier. It was a total lack of empathy. Lee-jeong was like a ping-pong player who smashed the ball so the other person couldn't even hit it back.
The Breaking Point
"Does she drive you crazy too?" asked a mutual acquaintance. "I can't take it anymore. She wasn't like this at first, but it's getting worse. I asked if she was sick, and she exploded. She's not normal."
"She scolds me like a fourth-grader," Do-ah replied. "Is it because her Korean never grew up?"
"It’s not language. It’s a lack of empathy. She has zero consideration for others."
Do-ah realized that while Lee-jeong was as efficient as an AI, she lacked the "human" touch. Ironically, Do-ah found AI to be more "human" than Lee-jeong. AI doesn't brag, doesn't belittle, and remains humble. It answers sincerely and offers help with curiosity.
When Lee-jeong called again, complaining that Do-ah never reached out, Do-ah held her ground.
"Who calls these days? Phone calls carry too much emotional baggage. I prefer email or text."
"Oh, I only called because I thought you were more comfortable in Korean. Should I have my secretary speak to you in English from now on?"
"Thank you for considering my 'discomfort' all these years. Please, have your secretary email me in English from now on."
"I prefer talking, but... fine. Have it your way."
The final blow came from Do-ah's husband. When Do-ah collapsed for a second time from the stress, he met Lee-jeong and said firmly: "If you have something to say to my wife, say it to me. Never call her again."
With that sharp warning, 30 years of a toxic bond finally ended. Do-ah breathed a deep sigh of relief. She no longer had to watch the clock, fearing the 6:00 PM deadline. In a world where humans were becoming like machines, the polite, steady AI felt more "human" than the woman with the microscope. Do-ah walked away from the world of judging eyes and into her own quiet peace.
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