I thought working at a Japanese airport would be straightforward

The reality of ground staff training

I remember sitting in that dim classroom, thinking that getting a job as airport ground staff in Japan would be a simple path to living abroad. I had joined a K-MOVE program, expecting a structured transition, but the reality hit as soon as we started the specialized training. It wasn’t just about learning how to check in passengers or handle boarding passes. We spent hours practicing how to bow and hold documents at exactly the right angle. It felt more like a finishing school than vocational training for an aviation job. The cost for the program was around 4 million won, which at the time felt like a significant investment, especially when you consider that I was still just a student with no real income. My classmates were mostly my age, all anxious and constantly refreshing job boards, hoping that the promise of a stable career wouldn’t just evaporate once we stepped onto the tarmac.

Waiting for the visa and the quiet panic

One thing I didn’t expect was the sheer amount of downtime spent waiting. You apply, you wait, you panic, and then you wait some more. It feels like your life is paused while some immigration office reviews your paperwork. Some of my friends who had looked into the American internship routes told me stories about visa denials that kept me awake at night. I remember one guy in our group who was obsessed with the idea of moving to Hawaii for a hospitality internship, and he spent every coffee chat talking about his backup plans in case his visa got rejected. It’s funny how, in those moments, the specific details of your future—like whether you’ll be a nutritionist at a daycare or working in logistics—seem to matter less than just getting the ‘go’ sign from someone in a suit who has never met you.

The contrast between corporate PR and my experience

Sometimes I see news articles about major companies like Hyundai Mobis winning awards for their communication or bragging about their global network, and I just shake my head. It feels like such a different world from the one I inhabited. They talk about ‘global communication’ and ‘talent development,’ but for someone trying to secure an entry-level position at an airport or a small overseas branch, the process is incredibly solitary. You’re essentially your own HR manager, project lead, and therapist. I remember seeing a headline about SK Hynix offering full tuition and stipends for their semiconductor programs, and the contrast to my situation was jarring. It’s not that I regretted my choice, but it made me wonder if I was chasing a fantasy while everyone else was being recruited into guaranteed career paths.

Living in a state of uncertainty

Even after landing a position, the sense of uncertainty didn’t really go away. I started working at the airport after about six months of preparation. The shifts were grueling, often starting at 5:00 AM, which meant I had to catch the first train and spend half the night in a capsule hotel near the station just to be safe. It cost about 4,500 yen per night, and while it was clean, it was far from home. People keep asking me if I’m ‘settled’ now, as if living and working abroad is a checkbox you tick off once and for all. But the reality is that I’m still just figuring out how to handle the administrative hurdles, and I’m honestly not sure if I’ll stay here for another two years or if I’ll eventually get tired of the commute and move on to something completely different, like studying criminology or something else entirely. It’s weird, but I don’t feel like I’ve ‘arrived’ anywhere yet.