洗碗工招聘指南

The other day， talking to some people familiar with the food and beverage industry， I heard an amusing story.

There was a Mr. Song who opened a chain of fast food restaurants， mainly catering to white-collar workers. In this business， the earnings are stable， but the barrier to entry isnt high， so competition is fierce. Aside from ingredients， sanitation， and taste， improving the table turnover rate was the real nut to crack. Song hadnt been in the business long， but he was already somewhat well-known in the industry， mainly because of his impressive turnover rate.

“You know， since fast food restaurants are small， we cant afford a large dishwashing machine; plus， it takes too long to do a load. Its not suitable to our turnover rate. You can buy more dishes， but youd have to find a place to store them， so those of us in the business have to hire dishwashing employees. Still， its hard to find one who works hard and has the skills.”

Song was reclining in a lounge chair at a resort， enjoying an iced coconut and chatting with a Mr. Li. Li was an internet guy and entrepreneur. After doing breakfast burritos， nail salons， takeout， and beef brisket noodles， hed gone into fresh-squeezed fruit juice. His brand got a lot of hype， but the customer experience left something to be desired. Market research showed that it was because wait times were too long. Li had heard about Songs miraculous turnover rate， and came to seek his advice.

“In order to ensure freshness and cleanliness， we wash the fruit on-site， after a customer places an order. One cup of juice requires a bunch of different fruits that must each be washed， cut， and squeezed， which is why it takes so long. Our customers are annoyed， but we cant install an industrial dishwasher in a mall！” Li was fretting.

“So what you need are suitable workers to do the washing，” Song paused meaningfully.

Li saw his opening. Coconut in hand， he scooted closer to Songs chair， begging， “Tell me your secret.” When Song didnt make a move， he added， “If you tell me， you can name your price; Ill write out a contract and wire you the money right away.”

Songs face creased into a smile： “Ai-ya， look how serious you are， how could I charge you？ We were at Yellow River Business College together！ Anything you want to know， Ill be sure to tell.”

It turned out that Song had grappled with the same problem for a long time. Hed tried a number of different solutions， such as washing the dishes himself， giving out bonuses， and even training his own team. Nothing worked. The reason was simple： dishwashing wasnt a job with much room for advancement， and most who took it up had just come to the city and needed a springboard to a better job. Nobody was trying to make a career out of this， and so nobody took it seriously， nor wanted to be trained. “If only I could find someone who really loves dishwashing，” thought Song， but where would someone like that be found？

He tacked up a sign in the window of the restaurant that remained there for a long time： “DISHWASHERS WANTED. ROOM AND BOARD. HIGH SALARY.” But the dishwasher of his dreams never showed up.

One day in the fall， Song was going over the accounts in the restaurant. A man of average height and a round face hesitantly entered the store. Song thought he was there to eat， and was about to tell him that the restaurant was closed for the afternoon and would re-open at 5， when the round-faced man pointed at the faded sign， and timidly asked： “Are you still hiring？”

Song picked out a rural accent in the mans voice， and figured he hadnt been in the city long.

“What can you do？” Song asked.

“Wash dishes，” the man replied.

“Lots of people can wash dishes，” Song rejoined.

“I can only wash dishes，” said the man .

This got Songs attention. He looked the man over. He wasnt thin or fat， and looked quite nimble and spry. His messy hair and large ears stuck out. His eyes were big and round， with prominent dark circles around them; maybe he was not getting enough sleep？ The weather was quite warm， yet the man was dressed in a dull brownish-gray sweater， with a black-and-white striped scarf around his neck.

“You can only wash dishes？ What does that mean？” Song scrutinized the potential hire.

“What I mean is， Im really happy washing dishes; it energizes me. I can do it quickly and do it well; nothing else does it for me like washing dishes.”

“For real？” Song was shocked. “Theres someone who loves washing dishes？”

“Absolutely！” the man replied earnestly. “When I see dishes in the sink， my hands itch. If I go a day without washing dishes， I feel empty.”

“I find that a bit hard to believe. Why dont you try it for a day first？” Song said.

The dinner rush soon started， and Song led the man into the back kitchen. Customers poured in， and a steady stream of bowls flowed back. The new dishwashers eyes lit up; he rolled up his sleeves， and got to work—hands flying， water splashing. Hed pick up a bowl and washcloth， spin the bowl around， and let soapy foam form a whirlpool in the sink. Soon， a pile of freshly cleaned bowls was assembled to the side. Song and the other employees watched in awe， almost forgetting to prepare the food as the dishwasher deftly whipped his cloth.

More and more customers came， and dishes streamed into the back kitchen. Normally， at this time， the washing station employees would be complaining that theyd never get through this mountain of unwashed bowls， and some bowls might even be broken in the chaos. Under the new dishwasher， though， the bowls almost didnt have enough time to pile up.

When the restaurant closed for the day， Song asked the worker to stay behind.

“Have you worked in a restaurant before？” Song asked.

“No，” he said.

“What are you looking for in terms of salary？” Song was running numbers in his head.

“Doesnt matter. Just room and board， and fruit to eat.”

Songs heart skipped a beat， and he felt uneasy. Going around， looking for work and a place to crash， not even wanting money—wasnt that just like the fugitives they showed on the news？

“Where are you from？ Whats your surname？” Song asked cautiously.

“My name is Xiong. Im from the mountains.” It didnt seem like he was lying.

Song took another look at the man. He wanted to ask for the mans ID， but then， even if the man showed it to him， it was probably fake. Might as well just leave it， he figured.

Thinking it over， he decided to take the man on， and brought him to the workers dormitory. As they arrived at the bunk， Song saw Xiong open the small backpack he carried. Aside from a change of clothes， it was empty except for a few apples.

“All right， then， youre on; Ill make sure youre paid，” said Song.

“Dont forget the fruit， I need those，” said Xiong. “Im vegetarian; I have to have fruit at every meal.”

That was a bit of a pain， Song thought， but he didnt bother to reason with the man. He arranged to have some fruit brought in specially for Xiong every day with the supplies.

In the following two months， there were no flaws in Xiongs performance. No matter how many customers came in， the kitchen operated smoothly. Xiong worked with deftness and ease. The table turnover rate skyrocketed， and Song was in great spirits. There was just one small problem： The other staff who bunked with Xiong complained that he was constantly eating fruit whenever he wasnt working; all throughout the night， they could hear him crunching and gnawing， making it impossible to sleep. Song felt there was no way hed get rid of Xiong; in fact， if he could find another one like him， he would fire all those other whiners.

Song paused at this point in his story， and took a few big sips from the coconut. Li was completely entranced.

“So was this guy not human or something？” Li asked.

“You guessed it，” said Li. “We suspected from the start.”

“So then what happened？” Li asked.

“Well， I got more and more curious， but I didnt want to ask directly， so I thought up something—detective work.”

Songs astonishment turned to joy： “So then theres nothing to worry about？ No danger in keeping him around？”

“Relax， these animals are gentle. As long as they have enough food and sleep， theres nothing to worry about. However， you do need to be careful： They hate oath-breakers. If someone promises something and goes back on their word， it would be disastrous.”

At this point， Song paused his story again， looked at Li， who was deep in awe， then continued.

That day after the master left， Song was in great spirits. He bought a basket of fruit and went to talk with Xiong. Actually， he just asked a single question： “Mr. Bear， I see that youre quite good at this job. I guess everyone from your hometown is. Could you find some friends from home to come work here？”

Xiong agreed， and took a trip home. Soon， he returned with a few village mates who all looked and sounded like him. Song prepared all kinds of fresh fruit and received the new workers warmly. He didnt ask where they came from. On the second day， he laid off all the other dishwashers and brought in Xiongs people. There were no more complaints from the dormitory. They all lived together; they ate fruit whenever they wanted.

After this， the efficiency of the kitchen skyrocketed， and the business became better and better. Song saved up money to expand， and soon investors were coming by， wanting to finance a chain. That was all thanks to his efficient raccoon staff. People couldnt figure out how his restaurants could have such quick table turnover and low labor costs.

Li looked at Song with admiration as he finished his story. “I had to put so much effort into convincing my backers， whereas you didnt have to do anything; they came knocking on your door！”

“I dont have superpowers，” said Song. “Raccoons are auspicious animals; gods of wealth. They brought all the good luck to my restaurants.”

Li was totally converted.

“Now， its only because we were classmates that Ive told you my secret，” Song reminded him， tapping the now-empty coconut.

Li nodded. “I know， I know， I wont tell anyone.” He hesitated for a second before changing his tone to ask Song. “You know， if I could also hire some of these raccoons to wash fruit， I wouldnt have to worry about annoyed customers anymore. Song， could you， uh， have your raccoons introduce some employees to me？”

Song looked at him with an enigmatic smile， and Li added quickly and apologetically： “Song， please dont misunderstand， I wont steal your employees. Im just saying， raccoons might also suffer from unemployment problems， so if we provide good jobs and good salaries， we can lift them out of poverty， and wed be doing a good thing…”

Song waved his hand， cutting him off. “Youre overthinking it. Im willing to help you. However， it would help if you could do the raccoons a little favor.”

“What is it？ Tell me！” Li beat his chest with confidence.

“Well， you make fresh fruit juice， so you have your own supplier， right？ I hear that its all imported， and organic？”

“Of course， we have a great supplier who brings in new stock every day. Its all Grade-A stuff. Its hard to find on the market here， even if you have the money to pay for it！” Li declared proudly.

“Great. OK， well I have so many raccoons at my place， and they just burn through fruit like crazy every day. I do fast food， I dont understand fruit， and I dont have a suitable supplier. Can you go to your supplier and order a years supply of fruit？ Pay in advance， and have them deliver it every day to us. The money for the fruit you can consider my headhunting fee.”

Li was a bit taken aback; he hadnt expected this kind of request. The cost for a years supply of fruit wasnt small， although compared with his urgent needs， it wasnt much. It was the investors money after all. Plus， if he didnt improve the quality of his customers experience， the investors might back out. Thinking it over， he saw what was his priorities were， and said firmly， “No problem. Its done.”

Song kept his word. When he saw the invoice from the fruit company and got the first delivery， he immediately sent a few dishwashers over to Li—no， fruit-washers. These new employees were featured in Lis new advertising campaign： “Freshly washed and squeezed， cleanliness you can see.”

As night fell and business slowed down， Song closed his restaurant. A group of raccoons gathered around the table， waiting for Song to bring the fruit. Their eyes were round with hunger.

“This imported fruit is great！” The raccoons held the fruit in both paws， burying their faces in it， letting out sounds of joy.

“I didnt think Boss Songs trick would work. Humans are really easy to fool，” said one. “Still， wont they soon find out that we cant wash fruit？”

Thinking of the plump fruits rolling about in their stubby claws， the raccoons all guffawed.

“One of the guys they sent over is Claws Joe， from the same part of the forest as me; his arms are so short he cant even wipe his butt. Hows he supposed to go wash fruit？” said another raccoon， making all of them laugh again.

“Who cares after they find out？” Song spoke up. “Hes not going to admit to anyone that he hired raccoons. Hes already paid for a year of fruit， so were covered for the year.” He no longer looked like the Mr. Song who had shared a lounge chair with Li. Hed taken off his suit and shirt， changed into a dull brownish-gray sweater， and wrapped a black-and-white striped scarf around his neck; all of a sudden， he was a raccoon again， albeit one with an air of authority， with some real raccoon gravitas.

“I gotta ask， Boss， how did you think this up？” one raccoon slurred， his mouth full of apple.

“Ah， just a little trick from business school. Present yourself， dangle profits， wipe away worries， and 80 or 90 percent of people will take the bait，” another raccoon answered on Songs behalf. “Humans only think about getting rich. They dont understand that the sweets you tricked someone out of always taste sweeter.”

“But what if Li finds out that the guys we sent over cant wash fruit？ What if he takes our stuff back？” asked the previous raccoon.

“No way.” Song chuckled. “You missed a little trick I threw in when telling my story. I made it clear to Li that the feng shui master said raccoons hate those who break promises， and will be sure to retaliate. Im sure Li wouldnt take that risk. Relax and enjoy the fruit.”

“Speaking of which， what are we going to do after the years up？” a young raccoon was worried.

The large raccoon next to him swatted his head. “Quit worrying. In a year， well just find another way to trick humans.”

Just like that， all the raccoons worries were gone. They lowered their heads and tucked in. The room was soon filled with the delicious fragrance of fruit， and the festive sounds of crunching and slurping rose in the air.

Kang Fu

康夫

Kang Fu graduated from Tsinghua University and has studied in Israel. Once a prolific traveler， she now spends most of her time at home as “an unknown screenwriter， idler， and author of unprofitable books， loving monster legends and food.” She has published The Jobless Journey based on her travels， and a novel， The Gray Cat Curiosities Agency.

Getting Lucky

I

n the capital， there was a poor merchant surnamed Hu who sold fish at the wet market. One day， he found a stray cat and took it in. The cat was orange-yellow， but its four paws were white—what people called a “snow paw” cat. It would also frequently rub the side of its face with its right paw—thus， Hu named it “Lucky.”¹

Hu rose early and lived frugally; after two or three years， he had enough savings to rent a store. After a few more years of hard work， he finally managed to buy a shop. Unfortunately， the building was condemned， and he wasnt allowed to start a business there. By the time Hu found this out and went after the seller， the man was long gone. Angry and worried， Hu fell sick. Without a source of income， his family subsisted on scraps， but Lucky still had a fresh fish every day， and never suffered.

After a month， Hus savings were almost depleted， and his case wasnt getting heard. The entire family was panicking. Hearing that the Temple of Great Awakening in the west of the city produced great results， Hu bathed， changed clothes， and went to pray in spite of his poor health. Recalling how his years of hard labor had been wiped out in a moment， leaving his family in dire straits， he couldnt help but start crying in front of the Buddha.

After Hu returned home， nothing much happened. Within a few days， the family was completely broke， without even enough money to buy warm clothes for the winter. Hu let out a long sigh; his sojourn in the capital was over—no choice but to return to the village and farm. Thus， he put together enough money to buy a train ticket， packed his belongings， and prepared to head out the next morning.

That night， Hu tossed and turned， unable to sleep. Suddenly， a young man in yellow robes appeared to him， saying： “Dont be in such a hurry to leave. Things may still take a turn for the better.” The man didnt look like an ordinary person， but had a round face with two big， bright eyes. Before Hu could ask for more， he suddenly woke up; there was nobody else in the room.

The next morning， someone from the sub-district office arrived with a document in hand. It said that in this time of peace， prosperity， and the glory of all things， the capital would construct subway lines to facilitate transportation. Hus building was on the planned route， and scheduled to be demolished. But not to worry， the nation cared for the welfare of the people and would handsomely compensate the owners.

So there was light at the end of the tunnel. Things were， indeed， taking a turn for the better. Thinking about the young man in yellow from his dream， Hu thought it must have been a bodhisattva. Hu quickly returned his ticket， prepared chicken， duck， and fruits， and took his family to the temple to give thanks. They bowed their heads and kowtowed before the Buddhas statue to show gratitude.

After some time， the compensation arrived—it was indeed a windfall. That night， the man in yellow appeared again by Hus bedside， instructing him. “Now that youve escaped poverty， you should make plans for your wealth. Use the money to buy a store in the city center with good foot traffic. Buy real estate in good school districts， the more the better.”

Hu heeded the advice. Not long after， property prices in the city blew up. Shops and residences， whether new or old， beautiful or decrepit， exponentially increased in value. Hu simply rode this wave and， with some smart financial planning， became quite wealthy in a few short years.

Hu was very well aware that this health was a gift from the bodhisattva， and his piety increased hand in hand with his prosperity. At the start， he just worshipped at the temple， but gradually he started to give to charity， free captive animals， and， later on， donate generous amounts to build temples and invite Tibetan monks to be his honored guests.

In just a few years， he found himself on the brink of his 40s. As a child， a fortune-teller told him that things would “go downhill” when he was 40. Because of this， he was cautious. On the eve of the new year， he promised that he would become an ascetic and cultivate good fortune. The entire family， old and young， driver and nanny， all gave up meat， even refusing to use pork fat for cooking. Lucky was no exception; his daily meals of fish， shrimp， and sashimi became tofu soup mixed with soft rice and buns， which was supposed to mimic the taste of dried fish.

One afternoon， Hu was copying scriptures near the window， lost in thought， when he suddenly saw the man in yellow outside; he quickly stood up and saluted. Seeing the mans hollow cheeks and furrowed brows， Hu was concerned： “I havent seen you in a while. Why do you look so tired？”

“Your life of luxury peaks here，” the man answered. “I came to say goodbye; take care of yourself.”

Hu was shocked， and hurried over to the man， seizing him by the arm. “Ive been earnest in my devotion to the Buddha. Ive not been neglectful. Why would the bodhisattva forsake me so？ Even if its too late， tell me what I did wrong，” he pleaded. The man in yellow robes shook his head and sighed， but left without answering.

At this time， Hu woke with a start， and discovered he had fallen asleep in his chair while copying scriptures. He hurried outside， but there was no sign of the man in yellow. Beneath the parapet， though， he heard voices. It seemed like a few people were chatting， but the voices didnt sound human.

One voice spoke： “The High Minister descended to the mortal realm as a cat， and saved Mr. Hu from poverty as thanks for saving his life—tis truly exemplary conduct in heaven.”

Another answered： “Mortal life was bitter， but that wasnt the issue. Its just that this Hu takes whole fish and chunks of meat to the clay statues in the temple， yet treats my true body with tofu and soaked bread. Preposterous！ How could he possibly not be aware that cats are the so-called bodhisattva of this world？” It was the voice of the young man in yellow.

A female voice joined in： “Humans have always focused on the trifles without looking at the core; they value appearance， but neglect the substance. In practicing religion by the book， they believe they can accrue merit through good works， but theyre just fooling themselves and others.” The other voices joined in in agreement.

Hu was shocked to hear these words， and ashamed. He peeked over the wall， and saw five cats under the rafter; in the middle was Lucky. The cat on the left had a black forehead and white face， with the look of a judge about him. To the right was a female calico， which looked like a grand lady. There were also two stocky black cats with bright eyes， which looked like guards.

Lucky enjoined： “The mortal world is foolish and theres no need for us to stay. Lets go back to heaven.” The two black cats saluted， dropped down on their forepaws， and pushed back on their hind legs， their hair standing on end. Seeing this， Hu hopped over the wall and practically rolled over to them. He prostrated himself upon the ground and kowtowed repeatedly： “We humans are stupid. I thought the statue was the true deity; I really was foolish. Now that I know that cats are the real gods of all things， I promise to serve faithfully and with dedication. I beg you to please forgive us our ignorant crimes.”

Hearing this speech， Lucky strolled toward Hu， and patted his forehead consolingly with a white paw： “Although Ive already made up my mind to go， you did save my life， and take care of me for so long. I will not forget.”

As he finished speaking， five colorful clouds descended， and the cats stepped aboard with dignity. Hu stayed on the ground， kowtowing as they flew away.

After this， Hu no longer built temples or bowed to bodhisattvas， but fed every stray cat he came across. He placed statues of Lucky all around his house， and， rather than burning incense and presenting flowers， made offerings of chicken， duck， fish， and shrimp. In the years later， even though the property market tanked， Hus assets always avoided disaster， and the returns stayed plump.

Hu would tell everyone he met： “If you desire wealth， be a slave to cats.” People liked the saying， and followed suit. In time， it became a tale known to all.

– Translated by Moy Hau （梅皓）

Authors Note：I hesitated to write about these raccoons—I didnt want to reveal their secret to the public. My roommate disagreed： “People would be happy to know there were such animals among them. Many people are unhappy about living in a world of humans.” Our cat didnt object， either. “Just dont give away too much，” it instructed， licking its chops. “If these stories make money， I can get better food to eat.”