SEOUL - AS THE general manager of a Seoul-based company, a Singaporean found out first-hand just how entrenched South Korea's working hierarchy is - one based on years of service rather than appointment.

One day, he saw his Korean subordinates throwing a 'promotion' party for a colleague.

'I was taken aback because there was no promotion to my knowledge.'

He later learnt that in the Korean corporate culture, an employee with more years of service is bestowed a higher rank than even a superior who joined the company after him.

That particular employee had just marked 10 years of service.

Another time, the same Singaporean went to a branch office and was surprised to see a senior-ranked Korean employee seated in the common staff area when he was supposed to have his own cubicle.

It turned out that this man's cubicle was occupied by a junior-ranked staff member whose years of service exceeded his.

The Singaporean manager ordered an immediate change of seating to reflect the company's actual hierarchy.

His tales are by no means tall - countless expatriate managers tell of similar experiences. The bottom line is that South Korea's pecking order is clear-cut on the concept of length of service.

Indeed, when Koreans meet you for the first time, they ask your age. That way they know where you stand with regard to them and how they should talk to you.

The Korean language is full of subtleties that reflect the respective status of the person speaking and being spoken to.

It starts from birth.

At playgrounds, the following conversation takes place all the time.

Boy A: 'How old are you?'

Boy B: 'I am xx years old.'

Boy A: 'I am older. Call me hyong ('elder brother' in Korean).'

Gender is another criterion.

If there is only one woman among a group of colleagues at the dining table, she is expected to serve the men, regardless of her rank. Feminists may bristle at this, but Korean women are conditioned to play such a supporting role from a young age.

A jaw-dropping instance of male chauvinism occurred five years ago when then president Roh Moo Hyun appointed Ms Kang Kum Sil, then 46, to be the justice minister.

Her appointment led to the mass resignations of male senior prosecutors in their 50s.

'Reporting to a younger woman was a double blow that their egos could not take,' said Mr Kim Soong Ho, 39, a former Justice Ministry official.

The Korean preoccupation with the pecking order can be comical, if not absurd, at times.

The general manager of a Seoul-based Singapore bank recalled a strange request from a well-paid subordinate.

'She wanted to buy a BMW and was asking me for permission because upstaging the boss is career suicide here,' said the shocked Singaporean, who drives a Hyundai.

'I told her she can use her own money to buy any car for her personal use,' he recalled, with a bemused chuckle.

In another humorous case, an Asian diplomat who had just arrived in town was shopping for a new car.

His chauffeur kept insisting that he should buy a posh European make.

The reason?

'He gets more respect if his boss drives a prestigious car,' said the diplomat.

He settled for a Hyundai.

Not surprisingly, the zeal to conform to the hierarchical order has its pros as well as cons.

On the plus side, there is predictability.

'Everyone knows his place and is assured of moving up as he gets older,' said Mr Cho Young Joon, 63, a retired government engineer. 'However, it can be downright frustrating for talented youngsters.'

Foreign companies can even use the Korean system to their advantage in their personnel deployment.

At a social gathering among Seoul-based Singaporeans in April, the chief executive officer of an American company said, half in jest: 'I know why the parent company sent me here. I have plenty of white hair.'

This article was first published in The Straits Times on June 7, 2008.