Hard-working people It seems that the days after the epidemic are passing faster and faster.
I have become accustomed to reading books and writing notes while commuting.
When I occasionally raise my head, I see all the workers like me.
Without exception, they lower their heads and scroll through their mobile phones.
With a tacit understanding, we got off the bus, grabbed a seat, scanned the QR code, and exited the station.
People's status seems to be divided into work status, life status, and commuting status.
When I was at work, I relied on the American style, the boss looked at me like a CPU, and I killed my comrades who were digging holes for each other, making me hoarse.
The way I live is like a squeezed Shar-Pei, I just want to lie there lazily, looking at the layers of my own skin that are blocked and piled up, "Bah", that's the sound of opening a cold beer, no one can bother me anymore.
The most interesting thing is when I am commuting.
It is just the same without any thinking.
I see men and women like me taking an elevator and walking to the same subway.
They are basking in the same morning light every morning and carrying the same weight of fatigue in the evening.
Everything seemed very orderly in the huge silence.
People who are commuting may have a blank mind.
The meaning of commuting is only to connect work and life, both of which consume a lot of brain and mental energy.
Commuting is not the purpose, it’s just the process.
It’s okay to be so meaningless.
Your brain also needs to be empty.
Just look at the trees receding one after another outside the window, lower your head and slide down one.
After I gradually started to get used to reading and writing while commuting, I seemed to gradually start to like observing people and things, otherwise the things I wrote would be too dry.
I found that even when I was commuting, there were always people contacting customers about orders, and programmers putting their computers on their legs standing on tiptoes, holding their glasses from time to time.
Someone leaned his head against the car window, closed his eyes and smiled, wearing headphones, very immersed.
There are also people wearing ties, white shirts and black leather shoes who look at the time from time to time.
That day I saw Lei Jun, who had been sharpening his sword for three years.
At the end of the press conference, he bowed in front of the camera and said humbly: "I beg you all to please tap lightly." There was a middle-aged man from Chongqing who worked hard to dance a girl group dance for everyone in the live broadcast room.
He continued to dance the next day, and on the third day he learned a new dance and continued to dance.
He also comically twisted and twisted while carrying a half-broken wing.
There is also a young man standing in the middle of a wild and dark road, illuminating himself with distant lights, picking up a microphone and singing intoxicatedly.
Although I wasn't interested, I still liked it.
Then I remembered that I met a friend who changed jobs some time ago.
He graduated from P8, and now he reads a lot of AI papers every day, and also takes time to find customers to place orders.
He said that he recently got a 3 million order.
I feel so bitter.
Last week I was still complaining that I was too tired.
Whether on the commute, in the live broadcast room or in the cubicle of the office, I see and feel it.
A group of hardworking people.
Hard work, hard life, hard work.