The door of the conference room closed behind me, blocking out the sympathetic or gloating eyes.
The fluorescent tubes in the hallway buzzed like a swarm of flies having a party in my head. I was holding the resignation certificate, and the edge of the paper cut into my palm, which hurt a little.
"Lin Zhou, if there are problems with the project, someone must be responsible. You understand."
Understand.
Of course I understand.
I spent three years working for this crappy company, working overtime until hemorrhoids broke out, and what I got in the end was that "someone has to be responsible." Responsible for what? Responsible for the data leak caused by Director Wang's brother-in-law?
The reflection of myself in the elevator mirror - dark circles under my eyes almost falling to my cheekbones, my suit wrinkled as if I picked it up from the trash can. I stared at that face for three seconds and suddenly smiled.
The laugh-out-loud kind.
A cleaning lady passed by pushing a cleaning cart. She probably thought I was crazy and quickened her pace.
Not crazy. I just suddenly figured out something.
Work hard and take the blame. Worked overtime and got fired.
What if you are not serious?
The phone rang, and the registration invitation pop-up window for the food delivery platform popped up - "Are you hungry?" Rider recruitment, daily payment, free time.
The accompanying picture shows a young man wearing a yellow helmet, smiling happier than I have ever seen in my life.
It took me thirty seconds to fill out the information.
