White Collars Overworked
Salaried professionals are facing greater pressure and growing anxieties
Updated criteria for identifying workers labeled “white collar” have been widely discussed among netizens in China in the past few months.
Drafted as of early 2012, the new criteria set the financial requirements for a white collar: a monthly salary exceeding 20,000 yuan ($3,260), owning an apartment with at least two bedrooms and a car worth around 150,000 yuan ($24,450).
The new standard put entry to the club out of reach for most earners.
“Four years ago, people with an annual salary of 100,000 yuan were regarded as white collar. As I finally managed to earn that money, the standard has more than doubled,” said an online post by Tangbo Xiaohu.
An online survey conducted by the Beijing-based Legal Evening News and Chinese recruitment website 51job.com in May showed that only three of 562 participating office workers reported to have met all the new requirements.
“The criteria show there is a big gap between Chinese white-collar workers’ expected salaries and reality, which put them in a constant state of insecurity and anxiety,” said Xia Xueluan, a professor of social psychology at Peking University.
Uneasy life
The definition of white collar in China has evolved a lot since the term was first introduced to China in the 1990s. Decent pay, well-fitted suits and fashionable lifestyles have been the typical impressions of white collars among the Chinese public. But in recent years, the phrase has carried more burdens than benefits.
“If you asked a college graduate in the late 1990s and early 2000s about his or her ideal job, more than 50 percent would list white collar as the first,” said Xia. “But now, less than 10 percent would make that choice.”
Kong Ranran, a college student majoring in accounting at Peking University’s Guanghua School of Management, said that her first job choice is definitely not accounting powerhouses including PriceWaterhouseCoopers (PwC), Deloitte & Touche, KPMG and Ernst & Young.
“Those accounting firms used to be my ideal work destinations and I had dreamed of working there since I was a fresh student in university,” said Kong. But she completely changed her idea after a three-month internship at PwC in the summer of 2012.
About a year earlier, Pan Jie, an auditor working for PwC in Shanghai, died of fever-induced illness due to overwork at the age of 25.
“I saw the tough situation behind the halo and it was definitely not appealing,” said Kong. “The work hours are endless and it is impossible to squeeze any time for leisure or anything else.”
Kong’s first choice now switched to civil service, which is the ideal choice among many of her classmates, especially the females. “We need to get married and have babies but we see no hope if we just work, work and work every day,” she said.
Ning Xin, working in a law firm in Beijing, recently quit her job and decided to go to the United States for further study. “With so many graduates coming back from abroad every year, it is not the best choice as I might have a hard time looking for jobs after my graduation in the United States, but I can’t think about that much as my present work is driving me mad,” said Ning.
Ning, for her two years of work in the law firm, enjoyed no vacation at all. On most weekends, she is either working in the office or flying to another city on business.
“Business trips are not as fancy as they sound; we just stayed in hotel rooms and worked on projects day and night,” said Ning, who has been to Hangzhou, a famous tourist destination in east China’s Zhejiang Province, at least 10 times, but hasn’t gotten a chance to walk around West Lake, the most-visited site in the city, for more than one hour.
Even on her last day at work, Ning worked till 11 p.m. to hand over all her projects to workmates. “I don’t even have time to enjoy the relaxation,” said Ning.
Guomao, a bustling area in Beijing’s Central Business District where Ning worked, is the gathering place of taxi drivers after 10 p.m. as they all know people working in companies there often stay late, so it is easy to get passengers.
“We get trapped at work,” said 30-year-old Jin Jian working in an advertisement company at Jianwai Soho community in Guomao. “The whole advertisement industry means endless working anyway and we cannot live in this city without salaries since the living cost in Beijing is rocketing.”
Jin used to be satisfied with his salary, which is more than 10,000 yuan a month, but it is not enough at all for him. “The mortgage is about 6,000 yuan ($978) a month and the basic living cost is about 3,000 ($489),” said Jin. “If I get married and have a baby, this salary is far from enough.”
It is not only the youngsters who feel under pressure. The first generation of white-collar workers in China, mostly in their 40s or 50s, are also in an awkward situation.
David, who declined to reveal his Chinese name, has been working in foreign-funded companies for 20 years and lives a stable middle-class life with the title of marketing director of the Asian-Pacific region.
Since January 2013, the financial report of the company said that some employees would need to be cut due to the slowing economy.
“Foreign companies are no longer glorified places to work, as state-owned and private companies in China are improving very fast with the development of the economy,” said David. Some of his contemporaries have started their own businesses with some success, but his time for such entrepreneurship has passed.
“My wife is a housewife and I have two kids studying at an international school,” said David. As the only bread winner in the family, he doesn’t want to take risks.
Money vs. health
On May 13, 24-year-old Li Yuan died of a sudden heart attack at the office of Ogilvy & Mather Beijing after working overtime for a month prior to his death.
The final message Yuan posted on Chinese social media site Weibo.com shows a photo of the young ad man saluting the camera, presumably as he left the office for the day.
Two days later, a young IT employee working at 17173.com, a Web game operator in Fuzhou City, capital of Fujian Province, died of viral myocarditis due to overwork.
Karoshi—the Japanese term for death by overwork—used to happen mostly in manufacturing factories or construction sites, but is more frequently claiming the lives of people in white collar professions in China. According to a report on China Youth Daily, almost 600,000 people die of work exhaustion in China each year.
According to a survey conducted by the China Moderate Labor Study Center, founded in September 2012, about 70 percent of the white collars working in the Central Business District of Beijing show signs of overwork and 38.4 percent are under serious pressure.
“It is highly competitive nowadays and some workers have to work overtime to compete with their counterparts,” said Yang Heqing, director of the center.
Since 1995, China has adopted a standard work week of 40 hours. “But sometimes it is the employees who want to work extra hours, so it is hard to control,” said Yang. “It has become a common phenomenon that working long hours turns out to be proof of working hard, while it is not the length of work that matters, but the quality.”
“We have the belief that work always comes before life, which also contributes to the stress of working,” said Peng Guanghua, a professor at Beijing-based Renmin University of China. “It is a topic for both employers and employees, and the research also shows that working overtime can sometimes lower productivity instead of improving it,” he said.