**As China's youth grapple with rising unemployment levels, many are opting for "pretend work" environments to find camaraderie and structure while job hunting.**
**Young Chinese Adults Pay for Fake Jobs Amid High Unemployment**
**Young Chinese Adults Pay for Fake Jobs Amid High Unemployment**
**A growing trend sees young workers trading money for the semblance of employment, seeking community and engagement in a stagnant job market.**
In a unique response to soaring youth unemployment, young adults in China have turned to "pretend work" setups, where they pay to occupy office spaces and share a sense of community while searching for jobs. This trend has emerged as the nation's economy struggles, with youth unemployment rates exceeding 14%.
One such participant is 30-year-old Shui Zhou, who, after a failed business venture in 2024, began spending 30 yuan (around $4.20) each day at a facility called Pretend To Work Company located in Dongguan. Despite the unconventional arrangement, Zhou finds fulfillment in the office environment, where he interacts with fellow attendees, working together informally while seeking job opportunities or developing personal entrepreneurial projects.
Places like Pretend To Work are rapidly expanding across major Chinese cities, embracing an office-like atmosphere complete with computers and meeting spaces. The daily fees often bundle additional perks like lunch and snacks, making the experience akin to joining a workplace community.
Dr. Christian Yao, a researcher affiliated with Victoria University of Wellington, explains that these pretend workspaces address a mismatch between educational pathways and job availability, acting as a transitional solution for the economically-displaced youth. Zhou, for instance, reported significant improvements in his self-discipline and mood after joining.
University students are also leveraging these environments for practical reasons. Xiaowen Tang, a 23-year-old graduate, used a workstation to fulfill her university's internship requirement, even though her activities essentially involved writing online novels. She encapsulated the essence of the experience playfully, stating, "If you're going to fake it, just fake it to the end."
The founder of the Pretend To Work Company, who refers to himself as Feiyu, sees his venture more as a means of restoring dignity to unemployed individuals rather than just providing a workspace. Having previously experienced unemployment himself during the pandemic, he sympathizes with those seeking refuge from societal pressures.
In Dongguan, roughly 40% of the participants in these offices are recent graduates looking for tangible proof of employment to share with potential employers or to satisfy parental expectations. The remaining clientele often includes freelancers and digital workers, highlighting the diverse motivations behind the trend.
Feiyu acknowledges the potential uncertainties surrounding the long-term sustainability of his business but views it as a social experiment, hoping to ultimately help users transition from a facade into genuine employment. Meanwhile, Zhou is enhancing his AI skills—a move he believes will increase his prospects for meaningful work as companies begin to prioritize technological proficiency during recruitment.
The rise of pretend workspaces represents a crucial adaptive strategy for many young Chinese adults navigating an increasingly competitive job market while also reinforcing the sense of community that often dissipates in times of economic hardship.
One such participant is 30-year-old Shui Zhou, who, after a failed business venture in 2024, began spending 30 yuan (around $4.20) each day at a facility called Pretend To Work Company located in Dongguan. Despite the unconventional arrangement, Zhou finds fulfillment in the office environment, where he interacts with fellow attendees, working together informally while seeking job opportunities or developing personal entrepreneurial projects.
Places like Pretend To Work are rapidly expanding across major Chinese cities, embracing an office-like atmosphere complete with computers and meeting spaces. The daily fees often bundle additional perks like lunch and snacks, making the experience akin to joining a workplace community.
Dr. Christian Yao, a researcher affiliated with Victoria University of Wellington, explains that these pretend workspaces address a mismatch between educational pathways and job availability, acting as a transitional solution for the economically-displaced youth. Zhou, for instance, reported significant improvements in his self-discipline and mood after joining.
University students are also leveraging these environments for practical reasons. Xiaowen Tang, a 23-year-old graduate, used a workstation to fulfill her university's internship requirement, even though her activities essentially involved writing online novels. She encapsulated the essence of the experience playfully, stating, "If you're going to fake it, just fake it to the end."
The founder of the Pretend To Work Company, who refers to himself as Feiyu, sees his venture more as a means of restoring dignity to unemployed individuals rather than just providing a workspace. Having previously experienced unemployment himself during the pandemic, he sympathizes with those seeking refuge from societal pressures.
In Dongguan, roughly 40% of the participants in these offices are recent graduates looking for tangible proof of employment to share with potential employers or to satisfy parental expectations. The remaining clientele often includes freelancers and digital workers, highlighting the diverse motivations behind the trend.
Feiyu acknowledges the potential uncertainties surrounding the long-term sustainability of his business but views it as a social experiment, hoping to ultimately help users transition from a facade into genuine employment. Meanwhile, Zhou is enhancing his AI skills—a move he believes will increase his prospects for meaningful work as companies begin to prioritize technological proficiency during recruitment.
The rise of pretend workspaces represents a crucial adaptive strategy for many young Chinese adults navigating an increasingly competitive job market while also reinforcing the sense of community that often dissipates in times of economic hardship.
