Week 8 – IIP Seoul

As my time in Korea comes to a close, I can’t help but reflect on how fast the past two months have gone. This past week was my final full week in-country, and while much of it followed my usual weekday routine, I made a conscious effort to break the mold a little and embrace the moments I have left here.

One of the small changes I made was allowing myself to eat out every night this week. Usually, I try to cook or keep meals simple during the workweek, but with the clock ticking, I wanted to try more local dishes and get a taste of everything I could before heading home. One of the unexpected highlights was trying Korean-style Chinese food. It was a completely different experience compared to Chinese food back in the States – bolder, spicier, and more uniquely tailored to Korean palates. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it, and it made me realize how much I’ll miss these types of local culinary fusions once I leave.

The real highlight of the week, though, was our weekend trip to Busan. A few friends and I decided to take advantage of our last free weekend and explore outside of Seoul. One of the guys in the Princeton program had an uncle living in Busan who generously offered to let us stay at his apartment for free, which made the trip all the more accessible and fun. We arrived late Friday night and spent the majority of Saturday relaxing on the beach. After weeks of long workdays and a packed schedule, having a full day to just sit in the sun, swim, and unwind felt like a breath of fresh air, something I didn’t realize I needed as much as I did.

On Sunday, we took a more active approach and explored several historic and scenic areas around the city. Busan is Korea’s second-largest city, and it has a completely different vibe from Seoul. It was nice to experience such that contrast and see another dimension of the country before wrapping up this incredible experience. On the train ride back to Seoul, I found myself staring out the window more than usual, trying to soak in the landscape and the feeling of being here just a little bit longer. I also squeezed in some last-minute shopping for my family, nothing crazy, but a few souvenirs and snacks I know they’ll enjoy.

This week’s blog prompt focuses on how professional success is defined in Korea and how it compares to the U.S., and honestly, I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot, both in and out of the office.

In Korea, professional success is deeply tied to output. It’s not just about doing a good job, it’s about doing a lot of it, fast, and without complaint. High-quality work is a given, but high volume is what gets noticed. Results are everything. This mindset shows up in the way goals and expectations are discussed in the workplace. Phrases like “What quota do we need to hit?” or “How many of these do we need by tomorrow?” are common. There’s a constant pressure to produce, and metrics are king. Your value as an employee is often directly tied to the numbers you deliver.

I’ve touched on this briefly in past reflections, but it’s become increasingly clear as I near the end of my internship. I can’t go into too much detail about the company I work for, but I will say that the results-first mindset drives nearly every aspect of the business. There’s little room for error, and even less for excuses. If the numbers aren’t where they need to be, the focus immediately turns to what can be done now to fix it – often regardless of workload, time constraints, or personal circumstances.

In this type of work culture, a “successful” employee is someone who is intensely driven. They work long hours, take on heavy workloads, and rarely push back against higher-ups, even when being sharply criticized or micromanaged. There’s a sort of emotional toughness that’s expected – one where you’re expected to swallow your pride, keep your head down, and just get the job done.

There’s also an unspoken expectation of sacrifice. Personal time, mental health, even family obligations often take a backseat to work. Success here isn’t about achieving “work-life balance,” it’s about giving everything you have to your company and team. From what I’ve observed, Korean professionals who are labeled as “successful” are often still underpaid and overworked. The compensation doesn’t always match the output, and yet, the drive to prove one’s worth through results remains a core cultural norm.

This differs significantly from how we define success in the States. While we do value results, success in American workplaces is often tied to financial compensation, title, and lifestyle. There’s a more visible connection between professional success and wealth. In Korea, that link is much less clear. The country’s wealth gap is steep, and many of the hardest-working individuals still live with financial limitations, despite being viewed as “high performers” by company standards.

Back home, we also tend to place greater emphasis on individual initiative, creativity, and leadership potential. A successful employee is often someone who shows vision, challenges norms, and seeks out leadership opportunities. In Korea, hierarchy is more rigid. Leadership is earned over time, not taken early. Your job is to execute quietly, effectively, and in high volume.

All of this has given me a deeper appreciation for how culture shapes not only how people work, but why they work, and what they hope to achieve. I’ve seen firsthand how Korean workers push through long days and limited compensation simply because the cultural expectation is to endure, and to be proud of your endurance.

This internship has challenged how I view success, both in the short term and long term. I’ve learned to value resilience, discipline, and humility in new ways. But I’ve also realized that I want to pursue a career where success is defined not just by numbers, but by growth, balance, and impact.

As I prepare to head home, I’m grateful for everything this experience has taught me and I look forward to utilizing the skills I learned in Korea in my future endeavors. 

Leave a Reply