Pingfan Anran
March 21, 2026 11:02 PM
01
I haven’t posted anything for several days—I’ve found a job in a factory. It’s close to home, but I can’t seem to warm up to it. Compared to the physical tiredness, the mental torment is far more unbearable.
When I first stepped into society, I was in my early twenties, and my first job was in a factory. After nearly twenty years of wandering and trying different things, I’m back here again, as if I’ve gone in a big circle and returned to the starting point, repeating simple and mechanical manual labor.
In my youth, tired of the monotony of factory work, I quit impulsively without discussing it with my family or the factory. Looking back now, it was indeed reckless, but I also understand—it was the courage of youth and ignorance.
But in middle age, reality has long smoothed out my edges. Jobs are hard to find. As half the backbone of my family, all I see when I open my eyes are the expenses of daily life—there’s no longer the courage to leave whenever I want, like I did back then.
Every day, I have a thousand thoughts of quitting. Fortunately, I’m sensible, or rather, trapped by my circumstances and abilities—every time, I clench my teeth and tell myself: Hold on a little longer, leave decently when there’s a better opportunity.
02
The biggest advantage of this job is its proximity to home. I can go home for a hot lunch at noon, and taking leave is relatively flexible, without too many tedious rules. I originally took this job because it ended early, hoping to balance work and family, and squeeze out some time to write for my blog.
But the reality is that the workshop requires overtime almost every day. Although overtime is voluntary, seeing everyone around me busy, I feel embarrassed to leave on time, so I occasionally stay an extra half an hour. Colleagues work overtime simply to earn more overtime pay—13 yuan an hour, plus an 8-yuan meal subsidy if they work more than 3 hours of overtime. So the original 5 PM closing time is often dragged to 8 PM.
Most of the colleagues in the workshop are women. They work hard in the workshop during the day, and when they get off work, they have to take care of housework and children at home. Even so, a few of them never take leave and work overtime every day, like tireless iron men. I often can’t help but wonder how they manage to hold on.
Don’t judge others without knowing the whole story. For me, this factory is just a job near my home—I’m close to it, but I never really understood it. It wasn’t until I joined that I was surprised to find the “overtime culture” here—it’s actually voluntary among the employees. Some colleagues even deliberately take leave on days with light workloads, but are unwilling to miss busy days, just because they can work more overtime and earn more money. This perseverance seems a bit inhumane to me.
03
Some raw materials in the workshop are irritating to the skin. Many new employees, with sensitive skin, can’t stand the itching and leave soon after joining. At first, I didn’t feel anything, but after working for a long time, my hands and ears became red and swollen—fortunately, it’s bearable.
Colleagues have shared their experiences with me: some take medicine for allergies, others get injections. I also heard that a colleague who has worked here for several years came with a determined attitude when she first joined, saying boldly: “I want to see how severe the allergies can get.” This perseverance is really admirable.
It’s often said that where there are many women, there are many trivial conflicts—and this is proven in the workshop. In this small circle of more than a dozen people, there are quietly two groups: one group is older sisters in their forties, with experience and seniority. They are quiet, talk little and do more, never arguing with others or stirring up trouble; the other group is “younger sisters” under forty, who seem friendly on the surface but have constant conflicts behind the scenes. They often bicker over trivial matters, always judge others, and try to highlight their own sense of superiority.
04
Working in a factory is really hard. I rarely work overtime, but I always feel physically and mentally exhausted, with severe internal friction. I originally planned to squeeze time for things I like, but after getting off work, I collapse on the sofa and don’t want to do anything. I can only seek some cheap comfort by eating snacks and scrolling short videos, and I haven’t done a single serious thing.
This is definitely not the life I want. Sometimes, I suddenly fall into deep self-doubt, feeling hopeless about life and full of remorse. But then I think: even famous people often sigh that life is inherently sorrowful, let alone ordinary people like us—what’s so sad about this little predicament?
There’s nothing to complain about. I’ll just take this experience as material for my future writing.
