Battling ethics, insults in S. Korea

By Tracey Phillips, On-line Forty-Niner

April 15,1998

 

SEOUL - As a journalist, I am expected to remain objective about any given story.

 

As a novice journalist, however, I must admit I was impressed by the enormity of the media blitz I found myself a part of.

 

I was in South Korea by chance - one in four to be exact - and had to keep reminding myself that I am not impressed by automotive executives.

 

And I'm not. But I was somewhat impressed by the slick video presentations, the laser light show preceding each presentation, the fashion show and contemporary art show, the six-course Chinese dinner, the open bar tab each night (complete with a waitress reminding us that Daewoo was picking up the tab, so would we like cognac?), the enormous breakfast buffet, the grandeur of the Seoul Hilton Hotel ... get the picture?

 

I was there to be bought, or so Daewoo thought.

 

Daewoo, by the way, is a Korean company releasing three cars into the U.S. market in August. The company invited professional journalists worldwide, and college journalists from the United States only, to come and test drive the cars and tour manufacturing plants, all expenses paid, for five nights in Korea.

 

When I was selected to go, I must admit I reacted with my usual decorum, dancing and jumping, screaming "I'm going to Korea, baby!"

 

So there I was.

 

Now, it is not big news when a manufacturing conglomerate treats those it covets (i.e., journalists from the country that is the gateway to the rest of the world) like royalty in the hopes that positive articles will ensue. That just makes good sense.

 

However, the big news to me was this: I was not really there to be a journalist.

 

I and the other college journalists were treated differently than the pros, much to our dismay.

 

It started with little things, like the flight from Los Angeles to Seoul, on which the pros were seated in business class - as you can imagine, very comfortable on a 13-hour flight - while the students were seated in economy.

 

Now, don't get me wrong here. I'm really not that much of a whiner; I was happy to be going to Korea, at all, but the seating did seem to set a precedent.

 

The puzzling treatment reared its ugly head again when, at an internationally attended yet poorly organized, televised press conference, not one question was taken from any of the college journalists.

 

The kicker happened when the American public relations agent for Daewoo, after the press conference which provided few answers, pulled the U.S. pros off our joint traveling bus one day to tell them a special press conference had been arranged just for them with the chairman of the company - the big guy.

 

What about us? Only amidst cries of "unfair," "discrimination" and "why are we here?" did the agent agree we should not be left out.

 

He did not, however, invite us to attend the conference with the pros, but promised to try and set up another for us with one of the top guns. Well, that was better, but why not let us in on the real action?

 

We diligently formed our questions and prepared for battle, but it was in that room that it hit us: We had not been asked to come as reporters.

 

We were there to provide Daewoo with insight into effectively reaching the college market.

 

Of the two executives in the room, one patiently tried to answer our questions, while the other made no attempt to conceal his boredom; he was clearly annoyed at the inconvenience. They were much more interested in picking our brains.

 

Once the public relations agent entered the room with three more top-level executives, the situation was clearly reversed: We were being interviewed.

 

They wanted to know if we would like to have one of their cars to drive for six months, and would we tell people about it?

 

Well, sure! Who wouldn't like to drive a car for free? I'll tell you - ethical journalists.

 

Now, I was not surprised that an overseas company might not understand how this compromised American journalistic ethics. I was, however, quite surprised by the American public relations agent. Wasn't it his job to bridge the two cultures? But I'll come back to that later.

 

He kept using the term "B.M.O.C.," and chuckling as if he was real hip to college-age lingo (excuse me while I barf). B.M.O.C., as the older generation may know, stands, or stood, for Big Man On Campus.

 

But that was when Beach Blanket Bingo was still the rage. He is obviously in a time warp.

 

Finally, I will summarize my trip by recapping my most memorable moments from a journalistic standpoint. (I neglected to mention there was a great deal of partying and dancing at night with an international, high-energy crowd.)

 

So, here goes.

 

I will never forget being seated at dinner next to the top guy in the company, and next to him, a German executive. Another female college student and I were the only women at the table.

 

After introductions and pleasantries, we were dismissed with barely a nod during this two-hour dinner.

 

The German executive did see fit, however, to pay a great deal of attention to my breasts, if not my brain. In fact, so much so that it was noticed by others at the table. I considered holding a plate over my chest. I was fuming.

 

The final insult came that night when international television crews turned their cameras on the big guy (remember, I was seated right next to him) and the German chauvinist - I mean, executive - said to him, "You had better talk to her now, or else they (the press) will think we have nothing to say."

 

Oh, sure! Now you want to talk to me! Why don't you just have the cameras zoom in on my breasts, instead?

 

The public relations agent, he was seated at my table that night, as well. And the next day he said to me, in such an utter breach of professionalism, "Hey, Tracey, you did such a nice job with the chairman of the company last night, and he was so impressed with you, that he wants to meet with you one-on-one today to discuss foreign affairs."

 

Oh, sure, insult me as a women and as a professional. Who is this guy? My temper fumed, but instead I decided to look at it this way: He needed to make someone else feel stupid, because he had made a complete idiot out of himself that evening.

 

Remember I said he should have been a cultural liaison? Well, he spent the evening making inappropriate Asian culture jokes, much to the thinly-veiled annoyance of the Korean executive at his side.

 

He recovered well, though. I heard him.

 

"Ah, I don't know if Confucius himself said that or not, but, ah ..." chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.

 

Nice try, buddy. Wrong country.