To quote Haruki Murakami’s line, “No one likes solitude. They simply think that not being understood by anyone is inevitable,” my first job was exactly like that.
My first career began in the United States. As is the case for everyone, it would take at least three or four days to talk about the scars my first job left on me; and as is also the case for everyone, there are likely three or four vivid, positive memories from that time.
However, one of the most striking characteristics of my first professional life was that I lived a life of complete alienation. At the company, I was the only new employee who had come over from Korea, and in my daily life, I was an awkward Asian living in a conservative, white neighborhood. Although I thought I blended in well with my coworkers and neighborhood friends from a certain distance, it was, indeed, a very lonely period.
Nevertheless, there is a memory of a moment in that alienated environment where I did not feel lonely at all. At St. James Live, a large jazz club located on the outskirts of Atlanta, every single audience member except for my table was, to be exact, Black. Even when I exchanged awkward glances with neighboring tables, when the tall sax musician went around the tables without stopping for over two minutes, and when I had a small talk with the performers at the cigar shop next door after the live performance, I somehow didn’t feel left out at all during those moments.