Discovering New Beginnings from Endings
Someone once asked me, “How did a 20-year-old girl from a small town in western Guangdong, surrounded by mountains, with just a high school education, end up working for an American company?”
There’s a story behind this, full of unexpected turns, many of which started with an “ending.”
I clearly remember it was about two weeks before my 19th birthday. My dad took me and my younger sister, who was just a year younger than me, on a long bus journey. After over six hours of bumpy, nonstop travel, we arrived at the Guangzhou train station. The bus was packed with girls our age, most of them also looking for work. My uncle picked us up in Guangzhou and took us to a basic guesthouse. Space was tight, so we stayed on extra beds in the hallway. My sister and I shared a bed, getting ready to catch a train to Shenzhen early the next morning.
Dad’s plan was to get us jobs in an electronics factory run by one of his former students. Thanks to that connection, we were able to secure positions there. At the time, Mum had been bedridden for years, and our family’s finances were in a dire state. During my three years of high school, I often skipped evening study sessions to stay with Mum in hospital. Dad didn’t think I had much chance of continuing my education, even though I desperately wanted to. With few other options, he decided to send me and my sister to Shenzhen to work.
And just like that, my high school life abruptly ended, and I found myself on an uncertain path.
Life in the factory was monotonous and exhausting. My daily routine was tightening screws and packing boxes. But amidst the repetitive work, I often missed Mum. When I thought of home, I’d quietly hum songs like “The Clouds of My Hometown” and “Mother’s Kisses.” These songs often brought me to tears, and soon, other girls in the workshop joined in. Singing together brought a little warmth to the dull factory environment.
Three months later, I was made a permanent employee, and my salary was bumped up to 240 yuan a month—a decent amount in 1987. But I soon noticed other production lines were earning more than ours, even though our quality and efficiency were better. It didn’t feel right.
I raised my concerns with the team leader, but she brushed me off. After waiting a week and seeing no change, I decided to take a stand. I led my group in a strike, which got the attention of our Hong Kong-based boss, Liu Husheng. He personally looked into the matter, confirmed our complaints, and increased our wages.
This was my first win in standing up for fairness. It was also the first time I realised that even an ordinary girl could make a difference by speaking up and staying persistent.
A few months later, I was moved to the warehouse, where I got to learn about electronic components—their names, functions, uses, and assembly. It was all new to me, something I’d never come across in school. Later, I was transferred to the office to do clerical tasks, like copying documents. Looking back, I can see these changes were laying the groundwork for my future as a customs declarant.
I eventually became a full-time customs declarant, working at the Shangbu Customs Office in Shenzhen. My job was to handle the factory’s import and export procedures, dealing with an average of five 3-ton trucks of materials coming in and three 20-foot containers of goods going out daily. Because of my neat and clear handwriting, the young customs officers nicknamed me “Xiao Bu Dian” (Little Dot). Their compliments made me realise how important the role of customs declaration was in connecting production lines to the market.
In quieter moments, I’d often observe the drivers at the customs office. Many Hong Kong drivers struggled with Chinese documents, and I’d help them sort out minor issues. I never asked for payment; I just wanted to lend a hand. This habit of helping drivers eventually led to an unexpected opportunity.
One day in 1988, a man and a woman approached me in the customs hall and invited me outside. The man, dressed smartly in a white shirt and carrying a briefcase, introduced himself as a Vietnamese-born Chinese American businessman. He explained that three months earlier, I had helped a driver clear customs for equipment worth over US$3 million. Without my help, the delay could have been costly. He then said, “We’d like to invite you to dinner tomorrow and formally hire you as our dedicated customs declarant. The job comes with meals and accommodation, and we’ll double your current salary.”
The next evening, I joined them for dinner at the revolving restaurant atop Shenzhen’s most luxurious World Trade Building. The setting was dazzling, and among the group were their American boss and several well-dressed gentlemen. Also with them was Ms Fang, a friendly and polished secretary from Guangdong who worked as the boss’s interpreter. The warm atmosphere and their genuine offer opened my eyes to a whole new world of possibilities.
Looking back on my journey, I can see how every ending led to new opportunities. The sudden end of my high school years, the monotonous factory days, and the challenges I faced as a young worker all became stepping stones to growth. Sometimes, it’s the small, everyday efforts and acts of kindness that plant seeds for unexpected rewards.
Have you experienced an “ending” that opened the door to a new beginning? Maybe it was a job change, the end of a relationship, or an unplanned decision.
Don’t fear endings—they might just be the start of an exciting new chapter.
-To Be Continued EP004-
