Hoesik, Round by Round, Until the Singing — Epoche A2
Thursday Tonight was hoesik , the team dinner, and like every hoesik it came in rounds. The department head chose the restaurant at four o'clock and sent one line to the group chat. Coming is voluntary. Everyone came. Round one, 6:30 — barbecue. Pork belly on the grill, scissors, lettuce leaves. Nobody fills their own glass here; you fill your neighbour's and wait for someone to fill yours. When the head of department poured for me I held my glass with both hands, and when I poured for him I held the bottle with both hands too. Junior hands are never single hands. Round two, 8:40 — beer. A second place, two streets away. The talk turned from the quarter's numbers to somebody's daughter's exam. This is the part people say they hate and stay for. Round three, 10:15 — singing. The noraebang room, a tambourine, the manager singing a ballad from before I was born, badly and completely seriously. Friday morning. Nobody mentions the singing. That is the agreement, and nobody wrote it down. Before tonight I would have said that what a team does after six o'clock is its own business. I no longer think so. Three rounds decided which people I can telephone next week without preparing a sentence first.