A Company Dinner That Still Feels Like a Dinner

Not long ago, we had a company dinner.

In Korea, these gatherings gatherings—known as hoesik— once carried a quiet but heavy sense of obligation.

They followed rigid hierarchies and often stretched into late-night second and third rounds of drinking.

For many people, that version of company culture is now a memory rather than a reality.

At my current workplace, company dinners are rare.

My boss places little importance on formal after-hours gatherings and treats personal time as something to be respected.

As a result, we meet only once or twice a year.

Perhaps because of that, no one looks for an excuse to leave early, and no one declines the invitation.

Our dinners follow a simple, old-fashioned formula.

Good food comes first, and alcohol follows naturally.

It is the kind of gathering that younger generations are often said to avoid.

Still, for us, it works without effort or resistance.

When the first round ends, it is usually the employees who suggest continuing.

The boss is the one who says it is time to go home.

The response is almost always the same: “Just one more drink.”

Our first dinner of 2026 was centered around jokbal and bossam.

Both are traditional Korean dishes with a long history.

I prefer them to grilled meat.

I have never liked the way smoke and grease cling to clothes long after the meal is over.

Jokbal and bossam leave no such trace.

We had made a reservation, but when we arrived, the bossam had already sold out.

If I am being honest, had I known in advance, I would have suggested a different restaurant.

That is simply the truth.

Perhaps the owner noticed my disappointment.

He brought out the remaining portions of bossam as a complimentary dish.

It was not a grand gesture, but it was enough.

A small act of generosity has a way of changing the mood of a table.

Drinking gatherings are not always comfortable or necessary.

Still, as the alcohol settles in, people sometimes speak more openly than they do during office hours.

Within clear limits, a certain honesty emerges—quiet, measured, and unforced.

At times, that honesty bridges distances that routine work never addresses.

Occasional company dinners like this are not a burden.

They are a pause.

A brief moment of connection in a life that often moves like a wheel already in motion,

before everyone returns to their separate routines.