《送餐者：中国外卖小哥生活实录》：
"How can I get it to heal? he asked the doctor.
"Don't sit for too long and get proper exercise."
What? His work involved sitting by a machine from 8 am to 9 or 10 at night, or sometimes even well into midnight. If he stopped his work, the other operations in the production line where each link synchronized would all be delayed. Ten minutes of "proper exercise" would mean ten minutes of working hours reduced for those in other links.
Since he was in the first step of the line, and his dorm was right over the workshop, to ensure the smooth operation of the whole line, he worked overtime during the night, in the hope that he could finish his share of the workload in advance to spare time for "proper exercise" in the day. Yet, this attempt failed. Severe pain prevented him from any sound sleep at night, and lethargy from any efficiency in the daytime.
He knew it was the time, like it or not, to give up the job and get a new one. But the few choices he could have involved either standing or sitting for a long time with lower wages. His monthly salary of over 8,000 yuan in the clothing factory was, if not decent, at least above average. He had had two kids by that time, and a new job with only 5,000 or 6,000 yuan every month would reduce his family to a lower living standard. He became more sleepless when he thought about what would happen to them if he, the sole breadwinner of the family, collapsed.
Poverty had left a deep scar on him. Among all the movies he had watched, one line lingered in his mind, "It's your fault you are poor.
In his school days, he was the laughingstock among his classmates, who had proper backpacks while he only had a rice sack as a schoolbag.
Each time when his father came back from work in the city, he longed for a backpack, yet never saw one. Instead, his mom sewed him a bag made of old rags on a borrowed sewing machine. What he warned was a real backpack, even if it was worn out. Parents of his classmates who also couldn't afford a schoolbag, still managed to get old ones for them. Even by fifth grade, Chu still never got what he wanted. Though his father disappointed him, not a single word of complaint spit from his mouth because he knew his father, old in age, earned less than others. At the second year of junior high, he dropped out, thinking it would be better to work at an earlier age so that he could help his father and his family pave their way out of poverty.
Chu worked his guts out for the fear of having his children repeat the "fault" of his childhood. He had to tough it out to feed his family. One day in 2019, he came across at 58.com an employment advertisement for delivery riders that offered a monthly income of 8,000 to 10,000 yuan or even more. He decided to give it a try and was interviewed by Han Ang, the director of the station.
"Is this going to be tough? he asked in fear of his inability to take up this post with a painful back.
"It depends. lf you are willing to put in the effort, the pay is handsome, the director replied.
He came to work the following day, and his first order, not far in distance, was a carton of boxed milk. The clothing factory he had worked for was in the vicinity, so he was familiar with his delivery area. He thought that being a deliveryman was great; riding an electric scooter around was just like leisurely window-shopping. In the clothing factory, all he faced was the cold wall, and what filled his ears was the monotonous humming of the motors. The work was so boring that his eyes couldn't help but wander out of the windows, wondering what was beyond. On the garment production line, he had to stay on his toes, like a cog in a machine, keeping up with the pace of the whole line and ensuring that the quality met the standard. Any mistake in his link would paralyze the whole line. The delivery work, however, was his own business, and if something should go wrong, he would only have to bear the consequences alone, without burdening others.
……
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