I Deliver Parcels in Beijing by Hu Anyan: Shocking TRUTH about what it is like working in China ... we have no idea what hard work really is

When one of Hu Anyan’s colleagues is suspended by the Beijing courier company for which they work, you’d think they might spend the three days resting. Their low-paid work is physically tiring, after all.

And at least he’d be getting a break from the customer behaviour that led to the suspension in the first place – the courier asked the customer to sign for the delivery, the customer refused, and when the courier asked again, the customer complained about his ‘foul attitude’.

But no, the three days can’t be used for recuperation. Instead, the courier must go around the company’s depots ‘reading aloud his own letter of self-criticism’.

It’s tales like this that make large parts of Hu’s book, about the 19 different jobs he has held, a pretty dispiriting read. But then that’s his intention – he wants to document the ‘live-to-work’ existence many are forced to lead, and question how they can come to terms with it.

The grim nature of the work in China is documented in harsh detail. For instance, one warehouse in which Hu works is so hot – even though he does night shifts – that he drinks three litres of water but sweats so much he never once needs to urinate. In the same job, the nails on his index fingers turn black and fall off.

One company makes him pay for a second medical before they’ll employ him, citing his marginally high neutrophil [a type of white blood cell] count – a decision the doctor who re-examines him brands as ridiculous, saying slight inflammation can cause it. And one boss tells his team: ‘Don’t think we can’t do this without you, anyone could do this.’

How do the workers react? In his warehouse spell, Hu notices that no one wants to chat: ‘They reminded me of quiet old ­farmers . . .[they] had the same indifferent, guarded way about them with strangers.’

In other jobs, it can go one of two ways. His fellow couriers moan about managers: ‘It was reliable common ground . . .We built our friendships in opposition to this shared enemy.’

But when he works at a petrol station, the attendants and the low-paid drivers they serve ­dislike each other. ‘When ­disgruntled, the lowly among us only have each other to pick on, because going after the powerful will only cost us in the end.’

Hu himself is an intriguing character. Early on in the book he admits: ‘I have trouble socialising.’ Working in a clothes store, he knows he’s not cut out for sales: ‘I never tried to change anyone’s mind. I lacked the resilience to take a ‘no’ in stride, so I just didn’t ask.’

Later, when his business venture fails, he hides away for two years, refusing to answers calls even from friends.

So this certainly isn’t the cheeriest book in the world. But it does raise interesting questions about life’s challenges and ­seeing work as enslavement.

The final irony is this book has sold more than a million copies in China, making Hu financially secure. I wonder if he’ll write a soul-searching book about not having to work?