The Unspoken Reality of Having a Good Job at 31 in China
235 segments
Hey, I'm Damon. I'm 31 and I work as a
chip engineer in Shenzhen.
In China, by 30, you're expected to have
your life figured out.
A respectable job, a happy family, and a
stable life.
By that standard, I guess I'm doing
okay.
I have a steady job, decent pay, and a
girlfriend I've been with for years.
So, I should feel secure, right?
On paper, it's a 9:00 to 6:00 job with
weekends off.
In reality, I'm on call around the
clock.
If something goes wrong on the
production line overnight, one call
pulls me out of bed.
The more I want out, the more afraid I
am to leave.
What scares me isn't quitting itself.
It's what quitting could cost me.
Today, I want to talk about how I landed
what many people see as a good job, what
it gave me, and what it cost me.
It's Sunday, and as usual, my girlfriend
and I are heading to the library.
Our weekend rule: [music]
one day to relax and one day to learn.
This is a free public library close to
where I live.
It's small, but it has a kid section,
reading areas,
and study spaces.
Libraries in Shenzhen are usually packed
on weekends.
We didn't get here that early, so every
individual study desk was taken.
We looked around for a while before
finding an open spot in the reading
area.
Most importantly, it had an outlet.
I have a master's degree in physics.
When I graduated, the chip industry was
hiring a lot of people.
My physics background was relevant to
the field, and that was enough to get me
in.
I got lucky with the timing.
Otherwise, I might have become a
teacher.
My first job was back home in Hunan.
I made around 7,000 to 8,000 RMB a
month, about 1,000 to 1,200 US dollars.
The pay was low and the hours were
brutal.
Working until 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. was
normal.
My overtime rate was 17.6 RMB an hour,
about $2.60.
I still remember that number.
By law, weekday overtime is supposed to
pay 1.5 times your regular wage.
But the company based it on the local
minimum wage, not what I actually made.
Pretty clever, right?
That job wore me out, but it also gave
me my start in the chip industry.
I had a job right after graduation and
got the experience I needed.
So even now, I'm still grateful to that
company.
After almost 2 years, I started to hit a
ceiling.
I wasn't learning much anymore, so I
decided to change jobs.
At the time, I was in Hunan and my
girlfriend was in Guangdong, several
hundred kilometers away.
We could usually only see each other
around major holidays, like Lunar New
Year.
Long distance was hard, so I used the
job change as a chance to move closer.
That's what brought me to Shenzhen,
where I joined the semiconductor
manufacturer I still work for today.
Shenzhen offered much better pay and
benefits than Hunan.
With my experience, finding a
semiconductor job paying over 10,000 RMB
a month, about 1,500 US dollars, wasn't
too hard.
In China, 10,000 RMB a
is a common benchmark for doing pretty
well.
I grew up in rural Hunan, so I was happy
with that salary and the benefits.
More importantly, I could finally see my
girlfriend every week.
This job really did give me a better
life.
That's why I can't just walk away.
I've been sitting too long. I need a
walk.
There's a park with a lake right next to
the library.
It's one reason I like coming here.
On paper, my contract says 9:00 to 6:00,
weekends off, with good pay and
benefits.
What it doesn't say is that I still have
to answer work calls after hours.
For me, being on call is worse than
working overtime.
Semiconductor production runs 24 hours a
day.
If something goes wrong with the
equipment or the product, whoever is
responsible may be called to deal with
it, no matter the hour.
None of that time counts as overtime,
and none of it shows up in my hours.
It breaks up my sleep.
Sometimes I worry the phone will ring
later that night.
I already struggle to fall asleep.
Even after the problem is fixed, my
brain won't shut off.
Sometimes I get just three or four
hours, then go to work like normal.
And this job demands intense focus.
Even a small mistake can cause enormous
losses.
Over time, I felt my health getting
worse.
Every annual checkup seems to find
something new.
Maybe it isn't the chip industry itself
that I want to leave.
Maybe it's this on-call life.
Sometimes I just want one full night's
sleep.
Back at the library, I spend some more
time on work-related material.
Until I find another direction, leaving
my current job still feels too risky.
China's job market has become more
competitive.
In some industries, candidates over 35
face real age discrimination.
I'm only 4 years away.
If work stops, my income stops.
The bills and family responsibilities
don't.
So, I'm rethinking my career.
What else can I do besides chip
development?
Could I leave the semiconductor industry
altogether?
Making videos is one experiment. A way
to document what comes next and take
back control of my life.
I don't know where this will lead.
For now, I'm just giving it a try.
For many of us trying to change
direction, we can't just walk away from
the job we have.
We can only explore another path after
work and on weekends.
Before we leave, I'm signing up for a
library card.
It only takes a quick check with my
Chinese national ID and I'm registered.
Borrowing and returning books is mostly
self-service.
I've never used one of these before.
I'll start with two books and take my
time with them.
You can disinfect the books here, too.
It works a bit like a microwave.
Put them in, press a button, and wait.
That's it.
She has a high-speed train back to
Guangzhou tonight. So, we don't have
much time.
We find a noodle place nearby and grab a
quick dinner.
We've been together for 17 years. Of
course, we've talked about marriage.
My job is exhausting, but it's
relatively stable.
She works in tech.
She earns good money, but her job is
less secure than mine.
That's a big reason I can't just quit.
I've always felt that at least one of us
needs a steady income.
This job doesn't just support me. It
gives both of us a financial safety net.
In China, marriage often brings pressure
to buy a home and have kids.
Both are huge expenses, and both take
years of stable income.
We haven't gotten married yet. Not
because I don't want to build a family
with her.
I want to give myself another 2 years to
earn more and find a way to have more
time for her and our future family.
It's already hard to make enough time
for the two of us while I'm on call
around the clock.
I don't want her or our future child
waiting for me to finish work before our
life can begin.
After dinner, I take her to the
high-speed rail station.
We've done this so many times, but I
still don't like train stations.
>> I'm going out for a run.
When I run, all I have to focus on is my
breathing and my steps.
For a little while, I don't have to
think about equipment, yield rates, or
the next call.
The whole point of working this hard is
to build a life I can enjoy.
But I don't want to put life on hold
while I'm building it.
I still don't know what my next move is.
Tomorrow, I'll go back to work.
Next Sunday, I'll probably be back at
the library looking for another way
forward.
Ask follow-up questions or revisit key timestamps.
This video follows Damon, a 31-year-old chip engineer in Shenzhen, as he reflects on the pressures of his career, the toll of being on-call 24/7, and his aspirations for a better work-life balance. Despite earning a respectable income that provides a financial safety net for his relationship, the constant job stress and the looming threat of age-based discrimination in the Chinese tech sector motivate him to explore new paths. The narrative highlights the tension between achieving stability and the desire to build a life that is not merely defined by professional obligations.
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