83 posts tagged with "Irony"

Old Wang had worked at the "Bleaching" Center for twenty years. His job was monotonous and mechanical: to thoroughly bleach various items delivered daily through complex procedures. These items varied widely, from old clothes and old furniture to broken electronics and even some "domestic waste" of unknown origin.

The Bleaching Center was located on the edge of the city, surrounded by endless white factories. Everything here was white: the walls, the floors, the work clothes, even the air was filled with a faint smell of bleach. Old Wang wore a white uniform every day, numbly operating the machines, his world gradually turning into a monotonous white.

Old Liu clutched the crumpled train ticket, the "101 hours" on it like a needle, piercing his heart. It wasn't that he couldn't afford a sleeper, or that he didn't know high-speed rail was faster. But he had to take this slow train. It was part of his "Year-End Dedication Award," purchased uniformly by the company.

The company grandly called it "experiencing life, staying true to our original aspirations," but in reality, it was a disguised deduction of year-end bonuses. Old Liu's "Dream Future Technology Company" was notorious in the industry for its high-intensity overtime and endless PPTs, yet their year-end benefits were shockingly stingy. For that little bit of performance bonus, everyone was grinding like tireless machines, even their journey home was being "educated."

Li Mei pushed open the heavy glass door of the bank. A blast of cool air hit her, dissipating some of the heat from outside. She clutched the bank card tightly in her hand. It held the 800,000 yuan she and her husband had worked so hard to save. Originally, they planned to use this money to pay a down payment for their son, but now, the money seemed to have turned into an unreachable number.

Old Liu was late again today. It wasn't because he overslept, but because his city had recently introduced a traffic rule called "Smart Person Acceleration Lane."

Specifically, if you had made more than three constructive suggestions in company meetings, or published more than two industry papers, or completed an "valuable" innovative project in the boss's eyes within the past year, your driver's license would be automatically marked as "smart person," and the vehicle identification system would be updated accordingly. Vehicles with this mark could use a dedicated acceleration lane during the morning rush hour, allowing them to move smoothly without any obstruction.

Liu Qiang tightened his down jacket and rubbed his hands, which were red with cold. The glass curtain wall of the company building reflected the city's neon lights, like a cold mirror, showing his tired face. Today is the last day of the New Year shopping festival. At eight o'clock tonight, JD.com will release the last wave of discounts. For him, this is not just about grabbing New Year goods, but a battle concerning his dignity.

"Liu Qiang, what are you staring at the screen for? Your performance hasn't met the target today, and you're still in the mood to browse Taobao?" Supervisor Zhang Jie's voice was like an ice pick, chilling his back.

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."

Old George's vegetable garden has recently become a mystery in the neighborhood. Not because he grew anything rare, but because his garden appears and disappears like a ghost.

At first, everyone thought Old George's dementia was acting up again. After all, he's in his eighties, so it's normal that he might not remember whether he'd planted anything. But gradually, people felt something wasn't right.

Old Wang has been feeling like a battery every day at work lately, except that he's not charging himself, but being forcibly "energized" by others. This is all thanks to the company's newly launched "Energy Gas Station" project.

Old Mike has become a celebrity in the neighborhood ever since the "Vegetable Garden Game" was launched. Not because he grew any rare herbs, but because he gesticulates and mumbles in front of the bare patch of land in his yard every day.

At first, everyone thought Old Mike had dementia. After all, he was in his seventies, living alone in a small house in the suburbs, and aside from occasionally watering his flowers, he didn't have any other hobbies. But recently, he had suddenly become obsessed, running to his yard every morning, waving his arms in front of the empty space, and mumbling to himself, as if he were talking to someone.

Old Wang held his heavy "Annual Outstanding Employee" medal, his heart filled with mixed feelings. The medal was substantial, its metal cold to the touch, and on its face, a line of gilded lettering shone dazzlingly under the lights. In the office, his colleagues cast envious glances his way, showering him with compliments. Old Wang just smiled awkwardly, as if the medal was not a symbol of glory but a kind of heavy shackle.