Lucky Blind Box

Old Wang stood in front of the company's lottery machine once again, feeling complicated. This was the third time this month, and the one hundred and twenty-seventh time he had participated in the lottery since joining the company ten years ago. Inside the machine's glass cover, colorful cards floated like a school of trapped fish, interspersed with a few glittering "grand prize cards."

The company's newly launched "Lucky Blind Box" activity, purportedly to encourage employees to be proactive, was actually a disguised form of performance appraisal. At the beginning of each month, each employee had three chances to draw. Drawing a "work card" would halve the monthly performance coefficient, drawing an "overtime card" would zero the monthly performance coefficient, and drawing other cards such as "leave early ticket" or "shirking ticket" would allow for some small benefits. Drawing a "grand prize card" would directly grant extra bonus and promotion opportunities. Of course, the probability of a "grand prize card" was said to be only one in ten thousand.

Old Wang took a deep breath and pressed the start button. The machine whirred, and the cards began to spin like a whirlwind. He stared at the small window, as if awaiting his fate. Finally, a plain-looking card dropped out, with two words clearly printed on it: "Work."

This was not the first time Old Wang had drawn the "work card." He remembered clearly that in ten years, he had only drawn the "overtime card" a handful of times, and the combined number of "leave early ticket" and "shirking ticket" draws was no more than ten. The rest were all this "work card" that left him feeling helpless.

Colleagues said that Old Wang was a "chosen worker," the most stable cog in the company machine. Some envied that he was never tortured by overtime, while others sympathized with his perpetual inability to be promoted or get a raise. Old Wang himself couldn't tell whether he was lucky or miserable, only feeling that he was repeating the same work every day, looking at the same computer screen, eating the same lunch, as if life had been pre-set.

He had not been without attempts to change. He had tried everything, changing his lottery posture, even consulting a feng shui master, who said it could change "luck." He timed his hand washing before drawing down to the second, wore specific colored clothes, and even prayed silently. However, all was in vain. He always drew "work."

Once, the company organized a special "Lucky Blind Box" event, where the probability of the "grand prize card" was said to be greatly increased. Old Wang walked onto the stage full of anticipation. In front of everyone, he pressed the start button. The cards spun, dropped, and it was still the familiar "work card." Laughter, kind-hearted but mocking, erupted from the audience. Old Wang could only smile awkwardly and return to his workstation.

He began to suspect the authenticity of the lottery machine. He had secretly observed the drawing process of other colleagues and found that they did draw "overtime cards" and "leave early tickets" and "shirking tickets." Even a new intern, in his first draw, pulled a "grand prize card" and was directly promoted to assistant manager.

Was it only him, forever destined to draw "work"?

One day, Old Wang decided to investigate. He snuck into the company hall late at night. He found the lottery machine and used a small screwdriver to pry open the back panel. He carefully examined the internal structure of the machine and found that there was no mechanism inside, only a normal lottery device.

Just as he was feeling puzzled, his eyes fell on the card storage box. A line of small print was on the clear glass of the storage box, which was particularly glaring under the light:

"This product uses quantum entanglement technology and is bound to your DNA. The 'work card' is your exclusive lucky blind box."

Old Wang was stunned, his mind felt as if it had been struck by lightning. He finally understood that it wasn't that he was unlucky, but that he simply couldn't escape this fate of "work."

He sat down on the ground, staring blankly at the "work card." This was not a lucky blind box at all, but a complete "workplace PUA". The so-called lottery was just a means to make them willingly accept exploitation.

He remembered a news story he had seen recently, which said that China's artificial sun had made a major breakthrough. He suddenly felt that his own life was also an artificially manufactured "sun", endlessly emitting light and heat, unable to change its controlled fate.

Tiredly, he stood up, put the back cover back, and turned towards the door. Tomorrow, he had to continue working.

As he reached the door, he looked back at the lottery machine. The "work card" was still quietly lying in the window, as if mocking him. He suddenly laughed, a laugh that was both helpless and bitter, but also with a touch of acceptance.

He understood that perhaps true luck was not about what one draws, but about understanding who one really is and what one can do. He opened the door and walked into the night.