Big Company Dream?#
At the beginning of 2025, a structural adjustment at my previous company felt like a sudden storm, stirring waves of personnel changes. As expected, my leaders and colleagues left one after another. I, too, received an offer from a big company through a referral from a former colleague around the time of the Spring Festival.
At the moment I received the offer, my heart was filled with joy and satisfaction. It was a joy of being recognized, a validation of past efforts. With this joy, I spent a relaxed and pleasant Spring Festival, as if the future was right in front of me, within reach.
However, this joy was soon weighed down by the reality. Joining a big company meant I had to move from Chengdu to Hangzhou. The property I had worked hard to purchase in Chengdu could only remain vacant, with no idea of when I could return. I first went to Hangzhou alone to settle in, planning to return to Chengdu during the May Day holiday to drive my car over. This journey was not just a physical migration but felt like a transition to a new stage in life.
On my first day, my boss briefly talked to me about the company culture, policies, and work arrangements before we both got busy. In the following days, I felt like I was thrown into a strange world. There was no systematic training or clear guidance; I had to figure out almost all internal systems on my own. My senior colleague had a bit of a temper and often showed impatience during our communications, which led me to start avoiding interactions with him over time.
I faced many challenges at work. Many systems lacked detailed documentation, and when issues arose, I could only turn to the development team. A significant portion of my work time was spent on "feeling my way across the river." This made me question whether I was adapting to the platform or if the platform was shaping me.
The new job was far more stressful than I had imagined. A month after starting, tasks began pouring in. It seemed that there was indeed a shortage of people in my field. Before I arrived, my senior colleague was the only one responsible. I felt more like a "backup option," a "chat companion" during critical moments.
Being woken up in the early morning by various emergency meetings became the norm. Sometimes, just as I lay down, the phone would ring; other times, I was pulled into impromptu meetings in the middle of the night, where everyone being "online together" became an emergency ritual. Yet, there were very few people who could actually solve problems. I became the one who "had to be present but could do nothing." In just a few months, my physical condition deteriorated rapidly, as if I had fallen from "young and promising" to "physically and mentally exhausted."
In daily meetings, the most common discussions were not about advancing plans but about risk avoidance. Everyone was trying to push the risks away, fearing they would explode on themselves. I talked to many colleagues about this phenomenon, and they said, "This is the norm in big companies." It turned out this was what a big company looked like. I gradually became disillusioned with it.
I also discussed the future with an old friend who had been working at big companies for many years. He had moved between various big companies since graduating from university, and I thought he had adapted to this rhythm. However, I was surprised to find that he often expressed anxiety and confusion about the future. It turned out that beneath the halo of big companies lay confusion about the "next step."
Most of my colleagues here came from campus recruitment, young and naive. There weren't many complex interpersonal relationships; everyone was content with their work, and there was little scheming. This is a relatively "pure" aspect of big companies.
The pace of life in Hangzhou is fast, and the pressure on workers is significant. However, the city's infrastructure still needs improvement. The apartment I initially rented had serious issues with commercial water and electricity; later, I moved to a new commercial housing unit and truly experienced the magical experience of "poor sound insulation"—I could even hear conversations from upstairs and downstairs at night, as if someone was whispering in my ear. This living experience indeed refreshed my understanding. My boss said, "In Hangzhou, it's hard to find a comfortable place to live." Looking back now, that is indeed the case. He basically has to change his residence every two years.
Of course, Hangzhou also has its advantages, such as administrative efficiency. Many procedures no longer require offline processing and can be easily handled on a mobile phone. Perhaps this is also a "benefit" of being in a big company hub.
Recently, I often ponder a question late at night: "What would you do without the facade of a big company?" This question has lingered in my mind. It seems that few people from big companies can provide a clear answer. We have become accustomed to relying on the platform to complete tasks, and once we leave, those so-called "skills" have nowhere to be applied. At least in my current position, what I have truly learned may not be technical skills but how to avoid risks.
I haven't been confirmed in my position yet, but I have already felt immense pressure. The consequences of several operational mistakes have led me to question my abilities and consider: How much longer can I stay here? My intuition tells me it won't be long. This "big company dream" may just be like this.
Conclusion: Shedding the Halo, Returning to the True Self#
The big company was once the ultimate goal for many, but for me, it feels more like a journey of self-cultivation. Here, I have seen the exhaustion behind the glamour and heard the sighs behind the applause. It hasn't disappointed me, but it has allowed me to see myself clearly.
Perhaps true ability is not the halo bestowed by the platform, but whether you can still shine after leaving the platform. I haven't found the answer yet, but at least I have begun to think.