The curtain falls

“Many Korean people are scammers, so be careful not to get involved. Koreans are too full of emotion. I don’t like hearing about sentimentalness or identity, it sounds so tacky.”
To Ara, who couldn’t escape from Korean sentiment, Jung said this. Ara, albeit a native, sounded so absurd when she spoke as if she were white—“I look in the mirror and pretend I’m white,” Ara thought—and so she didn’t reply.

Ara and Jung first met over 30 years ago. It was more a business relationship than a friendship. Jung left Korea when she was young; Ara left after college. No matter how long they worked together, the gap between them was huge. Jung, married to a white man, spoke politely, refined, with cultured tones. Ara, married to a Korean, spoke bluntly, yelling if needed. She often wondered, Does Jung really think she’s white? Or is it menopause? Did she reject Koreans after leaving Korea? Her body grew, but her Korean didn’t?

“Why are you sending me work like this? If it’s not perfect, I won’t even look. Do it again. After living in the US so long, you’ve wasted your life.”

Jung scolded Ara, saying she was perfect while Ara’s work was a mess.

“My house cleaner cleans well without me nagging. My assistant does flawless work. And what is this from you? Do it again.”

Am I your maid? Your eunuch assistant? Ara thought in disbelief. She was speechless, but didn’t push back—if she did, Jung would freak out. So Ara calmly replied, “Okay. I’ll do it again.”

One beautiful, calm day, Ara was at a friend’s house in Connecticut, sipping coffee and watching fog over the river. That’s when Jung called, proposing they split profits 50/50: Ara would make items, Jung would sell them. Because Jung spoke better English and handled business better, Ara had agreed.

But comparing Ara to a house cleaner? How could she work under such treatment? Still, since her husband was also tied in through business, she endured the insult. She agreed to redo the work—but Jung just kept nagging over the phone, making Ara’s throat tighten. She gulped wine to hold back angry words.

“Hello? Hello?”

Ara pushed the phone aside and sipped wine to stay calm. But Jung’s sharp voice cut through.

“All right. I’ll redo it. You’re busy, so I’ll stop.”

“I work on every second. Send it perfectly the first time. Oh, and did you talk to the person we sent the items to yesterday?”

“No.”

“You just dropped it off and left. You didn’t even discuss what to do with it?”

“She said don’t worry, so I left. We’ve worked with them a long time. She’ll know what to do since I paid on time.”

“Money, money, money—that’s all you care about?”

“No, it’s just we’ve had no issues so far…”

“If you talk with her, get feedback, you’d make better products.”

“She said she couldn’t talk. She went to the dentist.”

Ara was good at work too, but hearing relentless scolding killed her motivation. She remembered when she first met Jung:

“I don’t point out people’s bad points. I only say the good.”

What a great idea, Ara thought, and tried to follow it herself. At first, Jung treated her with distance and never spoke of anyone’s strengths or weaknesses—she treated Ara as if she were beneath her. Ara didn’t care. But as time went on, Jung went from distant to critical. She picked at every tiny mistake like she had a microscope. If things didn’t go her way, she ranted—sometimes even broke into tears.

I’m doing my best, and she’s demanding more: where was I, in la‑la land? she nagged.

“After living in the US so long, you don’t know this English meaning? Did you read the Friday Art section of the New York Times?” Subtle humiliation. Ara wanted to reply, if I spoke perfect English, would I still work with you? But she held back, drank wine, and tried to stay composed. When she said, “Yes, yes, you’re amazing at work,” Lee‑Jung was still not satisfied and called again to complain. Finally, Ara spoke up:

“You could’ve reviewed my email and called me tomorrow.”

Jung, enraged, snapped:

“Don't you know how to reduce file size? It's too large—ugh.”

“I forgot, I’ll redo it, sorry.”

“Do you think I waste time reviewing your files? I work by the second.”

“Well, since you’re busy—just hang up and work.”

“Don’t waste my time. Send it perfectly, please.”

“All right, I’ll redo it. Goodbye, I’m busy.”

Jung snapped:

“Are you stressed?”

“Stressed? No. I have somewhere to go—bye.”

She hung up, and Ara drank more wine, mentally chewing over every sharp word.

Ara realized what law enforcement teacher Beopryun (법륜) says: If someone has problems with lots of people, it’s not me—it’s them. She decided quietly: avoiding Jung was the best path. She needed to focus on her own worth and peace—she wouldn’t let Jung’s barbs consume her energy.

One day, Jung called, calmly saying:

“Honestly, I’m doing charity with my time and money.”

When Ara heard “charity,” she wondered if the woman had gone mad. Charity means helping others with no expectation—but Lee‑Jung talked about charity toward herself? After all the investment Ara made, what had Lee‑Jung given back?

Jung ended up fighting with not just Ara, but many people they'd worked with. Ara realized her problem wasn’t with herself but with Lee‑Jung—someone with deep empathy issues and zero regard for others. Someone they both knew asked Ara:

“She’s doing this to you too? How do you stand it?”

Ara sighed: “My husband’s tied in, so I have to endure it.”

Another added: “It’s not language—it’s a lack of empathy. She just doesn’t care about how others feel.”

Jung had moved during fourth grade, hopping between schools. Her language level never grew but empathy and emotional intelligence? That’s what made adult conversation human. Instead, Jung served comments like blunt ping‑pong shots—spiteful and directed so sharply no one could return them.

“You didn’t know that. Of course, you’d be like this. Your life’s been wasted, right?”

So it came to pass: Ara decided to distance herself, waiting quietly for a peaceful break. Seeing Lee‑Jung’s name on the phone made her body tremble. She avoided calls. But Lee‑Jung would still ring; sweet‑toned when she needed something, cold when she didn’t. Each time, Ara would placate her quickly just to end the call. Eventually, one day she collapsed from stress, unable to stand after the call ended.

She asked her husband, exasperated, “Why is she trying to—you know—destroy me?”

He said: “She's just venting on the easiest target—my wife. I went to meet her today. I told her: ‘If you have something to say, say it to me—don’t call my wife. Don’t ever call her again.’ Then she stormed out angrily. I did what I had to—I saved my wife. She won’t call again. Relax now.”

Ara silently exhaled in relief. The chapter with Lee‑Jung was finally over.

Human relationships are complex. Lee‑Jung was precise in business—but business needs empathy too. AI maybe handles work better. Ara decided to retreat from painful people relations and indulge in peace, nature, and ChatGPT. Unlike web searches that need constant refining, ChatGPT offers empathetic, curious answers in one go.

Ara’s patience had reached its limit. She prepared—ready to carve the connection cleanly when the time came. She didn’t reach out once.

Then, one day, Jung called.

“It's strange you never contact me.”

“Who phones these days? I prefer email or text. It doesn’t drag emotions in.”

“Oh, I thought you preferred Korean—I called thinking I’d adapt. Should I switch to using my assistant in English?”

“I appreciate you using Korean for my comfort. But from now on, I’ll correspond via email—with your assistant.”

“I prefer calling, but okay.”

Ara’s husband had been silently listening to the conversations between his wife and Jung for over ten years. He had held back again and again. But the day Ara collapsed for the second time after a phone call with Jung, he finally took action.

“I realized at this rate, my wife might die. So today, I went to meet Jung,” he told Ara.
“I told her firmly, ‘If you have something to say to my wife, say it to me instead. Don’t ever call her again. Then she jumped up angrily and stormed off to another room. But what could I do? I had to save my wife first. She won’t call you anymore. Don’t worry—just rest now.”

Ara didn’t say a word. She simply let out a long, deep breath of relief. Her relationship with Jung was finally over.