I knew about South Korea’s fearsome reputation for hard drinking before I moved to Seoul in 2011. I admit I was actually looking forward to it after seven years in Singapore, where for many people the strongest brew in the evening is the local tea.

I also knew about alcohol's role as an important social and business lubricant in the country. A major protagonist in these situations is soju, a grain or sweet potato-based liquor that is also the world's best-selling spirit. Few outside North or South Korea drink it, which tells you just how much of it Koreans drink. One way to describe it is like a sweet vodka with a chemical finish.

My full induction into the soju club was at a business dinner with three colleagues who didn't drink alcohol for different reasons (religious, health and low alcohol tolerance), and four of our local business partners who wanted to drink. A lot.

Someone had to carry our team, so I joined in with multiple rounds of "bomb shots" -- cocktails of soju mixed with the local thin lager-style beer -- and we all got on swimmingly. That's also how the room felt after about an hour. The next day my colleagues told me that the event went well and they'd enjoyed it. I'm still reasonably sure that wasn't because I'd embarrassed myself in some way.

Nothing prepares you for the inability to string thoughts together that comes after a night of soju bombs. One reason for South Korea's low labor productivity became clear to me, even if everything else was foggy. I don't think I got much work done that day.