In complaints about the downside of "The Han River Miracle," rapid development, and Korean culture in general, there are certain standard-issue arguments that most of us foreign types tend to keep within quick reach, ready to draw in a flash; one of these is that Koreans think too much in terms of "빨리빨리" (bballi bballi) – doing everything "quickly, quickly" – such that things get done slapdash and produced ramshackle.
Yes, this is a problem, and Korea has indeed bled for its sins: bridges falling, department stores collapsing, streets exploding. In the mid-1990's, the excesses of the haste and corruption of the 1980's became shockingly apparent. Has "Korea" learned very much from these embarrassments? Kinda. So I don't fear my officetel (an apartment building zoned for business use as well, such that some of my "neighbors" are small offices) falling down while I'm sleeping, Samsung makes great monitors, Kia cars go and go and go, and certain things do tend to get done here significantly and pleasantly faster than home.
So you do have some things on the positive side of the whole 빨리빨리 thing. People come over and fix things that day. Money gets transferred instantaneously. The rapid implementation of broadband and the Internet is surely a side effect of this way of thinking: in 1995, I used to impress girls by showing them email, in 1997, hooking up a modem to my Powerbook and showing them my "home page" used to elicit "ooohs" and "ahhs." What digital wonderment! When I returned to Korea in 2002, the country humbled me the the 25 megabit connections they had hooked up to their home PC's.
But I'm not going to help Korea brag about its being an "Internet superpower." There are enough silly, progress-obssessed government agencies to do that quite well. I wish to do something far simpler, extol the virtues of something far more pure – that would be the joy of Quikservice™.
What is Quikservice™? 
It is the wonder of having something to hand off to someone within Seoul or the very broad vicinity, and it being important enough that you would almost consider dropping what you're doing to get it to that person yourself, you are quite relieved to know that there is a courier service that will do it for you. And it's cheap. As Bernie Mac said, "Quick, faaaaaast!"
I've called in an order to Kyobo for a book I really needed to quote from – got there within the hour with something like a $5 surcharge. When I bought my iPod in Yongin – about an hour outside of Seoul – I just had to have it that day. $20 (silly, I know). When a media station needed me to offer critique on a new show, they had the tape for me within hours. My favorite Korean director – now that was a nice gig – rushed me a copy of his most recent film to give the subtitles a once-over. He needed me to see it that night so as to be able to work with him the following day. That was Quik-enabled.
Seoulites just call it "Quik". You need it send over ASAP? 퀵으로 보내. "Send it via Quik." I love it. Seoul and various companies all operate as "Quikservice" couriers, although I think that this is a brand name for a single company that has become pressed into ubiquitous service, much like Kleenex™ has become more than just a single company's branded word that has come to be synonymous with the concept of "disposable hankies."
Do you really think an NYC bike messenger would really survive this?
"Quik" consists of hordes of motorcycle men who weave in an between traffic at breakneck speeds and with test pilot precision through some improbably small spaces between people, cars, buses, and buildings. Many foreigners incorrectly stereotype Koreans in general as "bad drivers." I don't think that's true, in the large scale. Despite the fact that Korea has one of the highest traffic accident death rates in the developed world, I think this is more due to the crazy and aggressive way most Koreans tend to drive, as opposed to an essential lack of automotive skill. Given the insane stunts and Road Racer™ speeds I see and experience every day in Seoul, I'm surprised there aren't dead bodies flying across highways and littering the streets everywhere, Mad Max style.
So when you get to the matter of ajussis on motorbikes sitting near the middle of intersections, revving their engines, waiting for the light to change – you are on a whole 'nutha level. Like Korean traffic in general, in regards to Quikservice deliverymen, you either can be very, very afraid of them, or you can simply decide to respect them.
They would wax Mel Gibson's Mad Max ass.
And once you utilize their services to get your precious materials across Seoul in less than 60 minutes for sometimes less than $10, you can feel some respect that combines with the healthy fear you should have when stepping off the bus or opening a taxi door. Yes, they might zoom across your path like banshees out of the opened gates of Hell, but that's why they get their shit delivered on time. When you're on the other end of the delivery cycle, you come to appreciate and respect that.
And once you've found yourself saying "아저씨, 이 거 진짜 빨리 가야 되는데...30분안에 도착할 수 있겠죠?" ("Mister, this has to get there fast...Can it get there in under 30 minutes?"), you have truly crossed a boundary. If someone were to try to compile answers to the question "When do you know you're Korean?", asking the Quikservice deliveryman to go even faster would surely top the list.
