[Current & Culture]If Someone You Love Becomes a Substitute Driver

Most Say "I'm Worried" or "It's Pathetic"
Both I and My Parents, You and Yours,
What Matters Is Working Without Shame

In high school, I often have meetings with writers. I talk to students who have read my books about what I learned while writing. I also discuss the book I wrote while working as a substitute driver, titled Substitute Society. At some point, I defined myself as a substitute human. I began to feel that I had lived believing others' desires were originally mine, performing them on their behalf, rather than pursuing my own desires. While searching for something I had to do, the labor of substitute driving came to mind. On the first day I started substitute driving, I felt half fear and half excitement. It was something I had never done before, and everyone perceives it as a tough job.

On the first day I started substitute driving, as I was about to leave saying to my wife, "I'm going to work," he said to me, "I've just watched whatever work you've done so far, but this is not okay. You have to drive at night, there will be drunk people beside you, and you won't be able to sleep. It's dangerous, so don't do it. If you need to make money, I'll go out and try another job." I replied to him, "No, I feel like I really have to do this. I'll come back safely, so go to sleep first." I still remember how he worried about me back then. After saying that, when I finished work and came home, he was sleeping soundly.

Honestly, I never imagined that I would become a substitute driver. Not only me, but I also believed that the people I love would not do such hard work. If my family said they were going out to drive, my reaction would probably have been similar. I might not have told them not to go, but I would have had trouble sleeping and worried about various things after letting them go.

I asked the students, "If the people I love, my parents, were to go out substitute driving starting tonight, how would you feel?" Most responded that they would feel worried or heartbroken. However, I once heard someone say, "I think it would be pathetic. What kind of work is that?" Today, I heard, "I think I would wonder why they are doing such work." I did not ask with a predetermined answer, but what should I have said to them? Both then and today, I just smiled and said, "Yes, you could think that way," and continued my story.

Their attitudes are actually the same as mine 20 years ago. When I was in high school, a social studies teacher sighed deeply as he saw us not paying attention in class and said, "Most of the people here will have to become laborers." I don't clearly remember what he said after that. My friend and I wondered why that teacher spoke such harsh words to us. At that time, I didn't know that the teacher himself was also laboring. I thought labor was an uncomfortable word reserved only for those who sweat in the field, so I did something shameful.

To those two students, I actually want to say this: I work without shame as a parent, my parents did too, your parents probably do as well, and you will someday become such parents. But there is nothing to resent about them. Just as I feel sorry for that social studies teacher 20 years later, maybe they too will, when they reach my age, suddenly recall that moment. I only hope that day comes naturally to them.

Kim Minseop, Social and Cultural Critic

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.