“I need to find a new job!” my best friend Rebeca shouted. She has been working at the Singapore branch of a Chinese tech giant for a few years. The salary is competitive, 30 per cent higher than when she was with a Fortune 500 American multinational corporation, but the trade-off is she has no personal time, between frequent business trips and late-night online meetings.
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“They have no sense of boundaries whatsoever,” she said of her higher-ups. “I never imagined I’d experience the infamous 996 culture first-hand.”
We have a mutual friend, Max, who quit after three months with another Chinese tech company; he was scolded for not replying to WeChat messages in the work group chat after midnight.
As I comforted Rebeca, I couldn’t help thinking back to my life in China 10 years ago.
I hosted a weekly interview television show that carried my name. On the surface, it was a dream job, conferring fame and professional fulfilment. But behind the scenes, I was constantly on the road, chasing guests and stories, when I was not huddled in the editing room, racing against deadlines. I often woke up in a panic about possible glitches or errors going out on air.
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At that time, work always came first. Motherhood was something to be delayed, perhaps indefinitely. That mindset didn’t shift until I left my job – and my country.