A Fable for Korea

By Jennifer Gray High School Drama Teacher

Onceupon a time there was a woman old enough to have a credit card and young enough to be careless. She’d had a credit card for many years and, on two occasions, it had been stolen; once at an international airport and once on the street in Maputo. In both instances, she’d canceled the card.

This year, a week before Christmas, the woman was in the Seattle Airport, on her way home from Seoul. She ordered a drink between flights, and when she went to pay for it, she couldn’t find her Visa card. After emptying her purse and pockets, she informed the waitress, who graciously insisted the woman consider the drink a Christmas gift. Whatever else went through the woman’s mind, she never once considered canceling her card, for she knew one thing for certain: the card had not been stolen. Most likely it was lost somewhere in Seoul, and if found, she was confident no one would use it. That’s the comfort of Korea. The woman had never been concerned, for example, that her purse might disappear from her office or her home. If inadvertently left on the subway, she was confident it would be turned over, intact, to the proper authority.

During her holiday, the woman continued to monitor her credit card activity but, as anticipated, there was none. When she returned to Seoul in January, she expected to find the card on the floor in her house and, when she did not, she decided to check the few stores she’d visited prior to winter break. At Saruga, they searched the tills and asked her name and number, should the card turned up. At the bottom of the hill leading strenuously to school, there’s a stationery shop she’d visited for Christmas paper, and when she’d offered her Visa card, they ‘d asked for cash.

She thought it a long shot, but popped in, just in case. The cashier spoke some English, but the woman was unable to make herself understood. She showed the cashier her Korean bankcard with her name imprinted, but the cashier was unsure what the woman wanted her to do with it. A customer volunteered to translate and the woman explained the situation, though not well enough, as he too was confused. After a few minutes of unproductive banter, something tweaked, and the cashier grabbed something on the shelf behind her. Then she turned and handed the woman her Visa card.

Message:

In the Land of the Morning Calm, your credit card is safe from harm.

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