This actually happened last year.
Our air conditioner at home broke down, so we called a technician to fix it.
The repairman wasn’t very old and worked quickly; he took off the panel and pinpointed the problem in no time. I stood there, chatting with him off and on. As we talked, I asked, “Repairman, how much do you guys usually make a month in this line of work?”
When I asked this question, what I was really thinking was—what if one day I can’t make a living in the internet industry anymore? Could I learn a trade and make a living with my skills?
The mechanic didn't even look up; he kept working without stopping, but his words were blunt: “If you just stick to doing repairs, you'll only make three or four thousand a month—it's hard enough to support a family on that.”
Those words hit me like a bucket of cold water.
He told me that he’d originally learned the trade through an online platform, but the platform took a huge cut, so more than half of what he earned went to others. It would have been much better if he’d found a mentor to teach him. Taking it a step further, if he could open his own shop, that would give him real stability. But then he shook his head—he didn’t understand the ways of the world and didn’t have what it takes to run a business, so this was the best he could do.
“That’s the only way.”
Just four words, spoken very calmly, but I could sense a hint of reluctance in them.
As I stood there, it suddenly struck me that what was making this room so hot wasn’t the weather—it was life itself.
Looking back on my own situation, working in the internet industry sounds glamorous, but the truth is, no one knows whether tomorrow or unemployment will come first. Thirty-five is an age when people tend to be looked down upon, and layoff announcements come up every now and then. I want to find a fallback plan for myself, so I asked about a repair technician’s salary—just to see if that path is a viable option.
As it turned out, there was no such thing as an easy path.
The few words my master said pierced my mind like needles: “social graces” and “business acumen.” To put it simply, they were things beyond just technical skills.
Technical skills can be learned, but how do you learn the ins and outs of social etiquette? I happen to be the kind of honest, introverted person who doesn’t like to propose toasts at meals and doesn’t know how to handle myself around strangers. I can’t even figure out how to navigate the workplace, let alone run my own business. I’ve always believed that as long as I have solid technical skills and work hard and honestly, I’ll always be able to get by.
But reality has shown me that it's not enough.
If you want to make money, just knowing how to do the work isn’t enough. You have to know how to land jobs, retain clients, deal with all kinds of people, calculate costs and profits, and find resources—none of which can be solved by technical skills alone. And these are precisely the things I lack the most.
The master said he didn't understand any of this, so this was the only way. As I listened, I felt as if he were speaking for me as well.
It seems like this world isn’t very kind to honest people. It’s not as if you’ll automatically have a good life just because you work hard and are down-to-earth. There are plenty of people with great technical skills, but the ones who make money are those who understand both technology and business. “Social graces” isn’t a derogatory term—it’s simply one of the ways society functions. It’s just that people like us can’t seem to learn them or get past this hurdle.
I stood in front of the repaired air conditioner, with the cool breeze blowing strongly, but inside I felt a hot, helpless sensation.
I don’t want to say things like “I’m going to change,” because change isn’t that easy. I just feel that it’s really hard for ordinary people to live a better life. You think that having a skill will be enough to make a living, but once you step out into the world, you realize that path has long been blocked by others following a different set of rules.
But anyway, now that the air conditioner is fixed, life goes on.
The master hoisted his toolbag onto his back and walked away. As I watched his back recede, I realized that it was the same sight I’d seen in so many others.
Including myself.
—But I didn’t know at the time that those words would come true so soon.
This past March, I ended up unemployed after all.
When it came time to lay off either me or my colleague, my boss chose the other person. I don’t know if it’s because I’m only good at getting the work done and don’t understand the ins and outs of office politics—but at some point I didn’t even notice, I lost a competition I didn’t even know existed.
Now, I’ve found a new job. But that same fear has crept back in. During the interview, I could put on a facade—pretend to be an outgoing, talkative, and sociable person. But on my first day at work, sitting at my desk, I didn’t know whether to join in when my coworkers were chatting; I didn’t know who to have lunch with; and I didn’t know how to reply to messages in the group chat to seem “normal”… That familiar, suffocating feeling came back.
An air conditioner can be fixed, but “social anxiety” doesn’t seem to have a cure.
That master can’t seem to get a handle on social etiquette, and I can’t seem to get a handle on my social anxiety. We’re both trapped by something—he’s trapped by the idea that “this is the only way,” and I’m trapped by my fear of speaking up.
The air coming from the air conditioner is very cool, but I can’t stop thinking about that line:
“That’s the only way.”
I don't know if I'll be able to get myself back on track this time.
