Exactly what the FUCK is your JOB???

Hello. I work at the front counter of your apartment building. I know my job looks easy, but it really is very difficult. There are many parts of my job that you just don't understand. You may think I'm a lazy dick, but that's only because you fail to put yourself in my shoes.

First of all, I'm always tired when I get home. When you spend 90% of your time at work sleeping at your desk it really wears you out. My adjumma wife is always complaining. I get home from work, have a bottle of soju and go back to sleep. She also doesn't understand the severe physical and psychological toll that my job takes. It's really not easy.

I realize that every time you walk by me you see me sitting there watching Korean dramas on my cellphone TV, but I'm really doing work. You see, in my spare time I keep up a fan blog of The Kingdom of the Winds, so it might look like I'm just a jackass who spends all his time watching TV when I should be working, but I'm actually doing research. In fact, I was so emotionally drained when Boys Before Flowers ended, I had to take an entire week off from work. Of course, I didn't tell my employer that I was taking a week off, and I didn't actually stop coming to work or accepting my paycheck, I just slept a little bit more often at my desk.

You also don't know how my work is killing me. Literally, it's killing me. Because I can't just sit at my desk all day and do work. I have to take my fifteen cigarette breaks. This job is giving me cancer. I only wish I was doing it in the USA so I could sue my employer for polluting my lungs. I have worked so hard here that I really deserve to be able to retire.

And you also don't understand how difficult it is to send all these text messages about packages to tenants. Of course, I could take the packages up to your apartment, but why should I exert myself in even the slightest of ways. I'd rather just send you a text message. That way I won't miss any of my shows.

I realize that you also think I'm supposed to be a guard of sorts, but keeping tabs on who comes in and out of this building is really not my responsibility either. I'm not really sure whose responsibility it is, but I'm pretty sure it's not mine. So when I'm out smoking my fifteen cigarettes with the door open it's not my job to care about how anyone can come in and out of the building. My only responsibility is to make sure that when I'm at my desk I don't buzz in anyone who is delivering any kind of food. I really hate those delivery guys, so I try my hardest to keep them out of the building, they are the real threat.

So please, Mr. Waygookin Renter, keep all these things in mind if you ever need my assistance. If you ever have a complaint, like someone living above you pounding on the fucking floor from 2:00am until 7:00am every night, understand my position. I realize that it's not only you that's complaining, I know that both of your neighbors have also complained. But what you don't know is that if you live in 513, I have no way of figuring out what apartment number is directly above you, I mean it could be 613, or 612, or 614...that's a lot of apartments to check. Things like understanding the layout of a building are not part of my job description. And logical thinking, like reasoning out that 613 might be the apartment directly above 513, is just too much thinking for my job.

Because of this, if you ever hear those BOOM, BOOM, BOOM's again at 4:00am don't call me and ask me to do something about it. You need to come down to the front desk, wake me up, and hold my hand while you walk me up to 613. I can't find 613 on my own, I need your help getting there. I'm not even sure how to work the elevator, do I just say "613" out loud? What are all those buttons for? Why isn't there a 613 button? I understand that you don't speak enough Korean to actually do anything or explain anything when we get up to 613, but I think it'll be funny for the renter up there and myself to laugh at the silly foreigner who thinks his complaints matter.

Anyways, please, I'm just a tired old man who needs to watch his dramas and get 18 hours of sleep when I'm not outside smoking and criticizing you for not knowing which trash bucket is for colored plastic and which is for clear plastic. It's not my job to tell people to stop banging on the fucking floors constantly or to address the complaints of the people who live underneath said floor bangers.

Thank you for your time. Anyeongi gah sayo.

P.S. Fuck you, you silly, stupid, waygookin.