Chapter 1 — My Nameless Occupation

My name is To Van, forty-three years old, and I have worked at the Hang Vien Corporation for twelve years. Today, I was fired. The Human Resources Director, Lam Vi, pushed the resignation agreement across the desk toward me; her hands were trembling slightly.

"Ms. To, this... this is a decision from upper management."

I glanced at it. N+1 severance, calculated based on the lowest base salary.

"Understood."

I signed the document. Lam Vi froze, perhaps surprised by my lack of hesitation.

"Ms. To, aren't you... aren't you going to fight for yourself a little?"

I set down the pen. "Fight for what?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. I stood up, gathered my water bottle, and returned to my desk to pack. There was very little in my drawer: a thermal thermos, a box of tea, and a drawing my daughter had made when she was little. It took exactly three minutes to clear out. Then, I began the handover. The administrative process documents were in the third folder of drive D; the procurement comparison charts were on the shared drive; the reconciliation forms for the finance department were my own creations; the attendance statistics for HR were something I had just done out of habit; the event schedules for the marketing department were things I had always monitored; the project status reports for the engineering team were updated by me; the complaint classification system for customer service was built by me; and the meeting minutes for the General Manager’s office were always drafted by me. In total, eight departments. The person taking over was Tran Loi, the operations team leader. He looked at the list of tasks I had compiled, his expression shifting from confusion to shock, and finally settling into an indescribable pallor.

"Ms. To, these tasks... do you really do all of these by yourself?"

"Yes."

"For all eight departments?"

"Not all of it, just the things they didn't know how to do or didn't want to do. Over time, it all just ended up on my desk."

Tran Loi flipped through the list—twelve full pages. "Ms. To, I cannot handle this alone."

"Then go tell your superiors."

I put on my backpack and left. In the elevator, I ran into Lam Vi. She looked at me with a complicated expression. "Ms. To, to be honest, the decision to lay you off didn't come from me. The new Deputy General Manager said he wanted to optimize the personnel structure. Regarding your position... he felt that your replaceability was very high."

"Which Deputy General Manager?"

"Chu Han. He arrived last month, poached from a rival company."

I nodded. "Has he ever actually looked at the content of my work?"

Lam Vi remained silent for two seconds. "He said that a common administrative assistant drawing a team leader's salary was simply unreasonable."

I chuckled. "Then let it be unreasonable."

The elevator reached the ground floor. I stepped out of the Hang Vien Corporation gates; it was raining outside. It was a March rain, not heavy, but biting cold. I hadn't brought an umbrella. I stood at the entrance for a moment before calling a car to go home. Twelve years. Gone just like that.

***

By the time I reached home, my daughter, To Niem, was not yet back from school. I changed my clothes, fried a bowl of egg rice, and after eating, opened my laptop. Now that I was unemployed, I had to find a new job. Forty-three, female, a bachelor's degree, and my most recent experience was as an administrative assistant. Looking at the resume I drafted, even I felt it lacked any competitive edge. But I updated it seriously nonetheless. My phone buzzed; it was a message from Tran Loi on WeChat.

"Ms. To, which folder is the procurement comparison chart in? I can't find it."

I replied: "Shared drive, second subfolder, file name is '2024 Supplier Comprehensive Evaluation'."

Ten minutes later, another message. "Ms. To, the reconciliation form for finance won't open; it says I need a password."

I replied: "The password is heng2019yuan."

Twenty minutes later. "Ms. To, Ms. Trieu, the Marketing Manager, says there’s an event next week, but it’s not on the schedule. She says you’re the one who always handles the scheduling?"

I replied: "On the 25th of every month, I pre-enter the schedule for the following month. Since I’m off this month, tell Ms. Trieu to provide the details so she can enter it herself."

Within the hour, Tran Loi sent me seventeen messages. After the seventeenth, I replied with a single sentence: "Tran Loi, I have already resigned."

He sent back a sobbing emoji. "Ms. To, I really can't keep up."

I didn't answer again. At six in the evening, my daughter returned. To Niem was in eleventh grade, a good student, with a personality like mine—quiet but decisive. Seeing me home, she paused.

"Mom, why are you home so early today?"

"I quit my job."

"Were you fired?"

The child understood everything. "Yes."

She put down her backpack and sat next to me. "How much is the severance?"

"N+1, about 150,000."

"How long will that sustain us?"

"With my savings, if we are frugal, we can live comfortably for over half a year."

To Niem nodded. "Don't rush, Mom. Take your time looking."

I patted her head. This child had never caused me much worry. Her father left when she was three, claiming he was going abroad to seek better opportunities, only to vanish into the void, never returning. For fourteen years, it had just been the two of us leaning on each other.

At nine o'clock, Ms. Luu, an old colleague, called.

"To Van, were you really fired? Do you know the whole company has exploded?"

"Exploded? Over what?"

"The first day Tran Loi took over your work, the customer service system crashed, and he didn't know how to fix it. No one updated the engineering project timeline, and two projects almost overlapped. Tomorrow is the board meeting, but no one prepared the documents, and Boss Ha is furious."

I leaned back on the sofa, listening silently. "Does Boss Ha know that I was the one doing all those things?"

"He doesn't. He only knows that the company was in chaos today. He called Lam Vi in to ask what was going on. Lam Vi said it was because you were fired. Boss Ha asked how firing a simple administrative assistant could cause such a mess. And Lam Vi said—"

Ms. Luu hesitated for a moment.

"What did Lam Vi say?"

"Lam Vi said: 'She wasn't an administrative assistant. She was To Van.'"

***

Early the next morning, Tran Loi called. Not a WeChat message, but a direct call.

"Ms. To, I can't handle the customer complaint classification system. How do I log into that management system?"

"I left an instruction manual for the IT department. Go ask them for it."

"The IT department says it doesn't exist."

"I wrote it. It’s in the internal database; search for the keyword 'CSKH System Operation Manual'."

On the other end, there was the frantic sound of keyboard clacking.

"I can't find it."

"Then someone must have deleted it."

Tran Loi’s voice sounded like a man who hadn't slept in three days. "Ms. To, could you come to the company just once? Just once, please, help me organize these things."

"Tran Loi, my resignation process is complete."

"I know, I just... Ms. To, I’m begging you."

A thirty-five-year-old man, having to say "I'm begging you" over the phone. I remained silent for a few seconds. "Forget it."

After hanging up, I scrolled through job recruitment apps. I submitted three resumes: one for an Administrative Manager position, one for a Chief of Staff, and one for an Operations Assistant. At forty-three, there weren't many positions on the market willing to take me. At noon, Lam Vi sent a message.