If I said I wasn’t interested in money, everyone would laugh, and I’d be laughing too. What business does an ordinary working stiff have saying something so shameless?
To be precise, I’m not interested in money that comes from outside my salary. There’s an old saying that a horse doesn’t get fat without night grass and a person doesn’t get rich without outside income. I simply don’t care whether I get rich.
Maybe I was born with the temperament of someone who will drink watery porridge without complaint. Several years ago, something made me realize my job was already stable: the salary covered my needs—not enough to make me full, but enough to keep me from starving. Continuing to scramble for more, like ants massing in ranks, bees brewing honey in a frenzy, flies fighting over blood, struck me as pointless. So I gave up the ordinary path of promotions and raises.
That doesn’t mean I stopped taking work seriously. I’m conscientious by nature. Anything that falls within my responsibilities, I try to do well, no matter how much others slack off. What I abandoned were all the chances to collect honors, and I also voluntarily gave up rewards I was entitled to. My department would consider me for annual recognition, but every year I declined on the grounds that I didn’t need it. Several leaders and colleagues I got along with tried to persuade me, and my family couldn’t understand it either. They said: you wouldn’t have to do anything extra to move up, and everyone else does the same—why won’t you? I told them I wasn’t interested. They found it incredible. But I really was just not interested.
In my view, if I have no interest in something, no amount of benefit is worth doing it for. Conversely, if I’m interested, I’ll do it even if it costs me money. Some years ago, when I ran a resource website, I only shared things and never sold them. People told me to set up membership tiers; some added me on WeChat and sent red packets; a large website approached me about part-time work. I turned them all down. I liked the act of making the website itself, not the money it could bring. Those supposed advantages might motivate others to do better, but they would have spoiled the mood of leisure and play that the site gave me.
I can understand other people’s drive. I just want to steam my buns, not fight for pride. Once I have enough to eat and enough to wear, isn’t it pleasant to sit and watch the flowers bloom and fall by the courtyard?