The Secret of Persimmon Combs

Old Wang pushed open the glass door of the office, and a strong smell of perfume, along with the drowsiness of the afternoon, rushed towards him. He sniffed, trying to identify which colleague had changed their perfume, but eventually gave up. Since the company started implementing "personalized office" practices, everyone's workstation has been arranged like a small personal exhibition, varied and flamboyant. Old Wang felt like a zookeeper who had wandered into a zoo, observing these "exhibits" every day and trying to figure out the logic behind them.

His gaze finally landed on Xiao Li's workstation. It was a small corner piled with red persimmons, but upon closer inspection, those "persimmons" turned out to be combs. Xiao Li was the young man who sold 50,000 combs shaped like persimmons and was hailed as a "model of innovation" by the company. Old Wang remembered that half a year ago, Xiao Li was just an intern who didn't even dare to speak loudly in meetings, but now he has become a role model for the whole company to learn from.

Old Wang walked to Xiao Li's desk, picked up a persimmon comb, it felt warm and smooth to the touch. "Nice creativity," Old Wang said, with a hint of subtle sarcasm in his tone. "Thank you, Brother Wang," Xiao Li smiled, his eyes narrowed into slits, pointing to the dense order records on the computer screen, "I've recently received several large orders. If you need any, Brother Wang, I can give you a few."

Old Wang declined Xiao Li's offer. He knew that the popularity of Xiao Li's "persimmon combs" was not just because of their creativity, but more so because the company was sparing no effort in packaging and promoting them in order to build the image of an "innovative enterprise." It was like a carefully planned performance, with Xiao Li merely being a selected actor.

During afternoon tea, the company's administration sent a message in the group chat: "To encourage innovation, starting next month, the company will hold a 'Creative Workstation' selection event, and the first prize winner will receive a cash reward of 10,000 yuan." Old Wang looked at the text on the screen and silently turned off his phone. He felt like he was in the middle of a huge gear, everyone forced to rotate along a fixed track, and a slight carelessness would result in being crushed into dust.

Over the next few days, the atmosphere in the company became even more bizarre. Some people started placing potted plants on their workstations, others decorated their workstations into miniature cinemas, and some even brought their pets to work. Old Wang looked at these bizarre "creations" and felt it was all the more absurd. He vaguely felt that this was no longer about encouraging innovation, but about encouraging "involution," where everyone was racking their brains to come up with even more outlandish "creations" to catch the attention of their leaders.

On the day of the selection event, the company's leaders, along with a group of judges, began to visit each employee's workstation one by one. Xiao Li's workstation was naturally the key focus. As the leader picked up a "persimmon comb" and smiled brightly at the camera, Old Wang noticed a trace of weariness in Xiao Li's eyes.

In the end, Xiao Li won the first prize in the "Creative Workstation" selection without any suspense and was awarded a certificate and a bonus in front of everyone. After the award ceremony, Old Wang saw Xiao Li sitting alone at his desk, silently wiping the "persimmon combs."

Old Wang walked to Xiao Li's side and asked softly, "Xiao Li, are you happy?"

Xiao Li looked up, his eyes a bit dazed, "Happy, Brother Wang, why wouldn't I be happy?"

"Then why are you always wiping these combs?" Old Wang asked.

Xiao Li was stunned for a moment, then lowered his head and said softly, "These... are not my idea."

Old Wang was shocked.

"I just... followed an online tutorial to paint the combs persimmon-colored." Xiao Li continued, his voice very low, "These persimmons, they were all designed by the company, every angle, every color, has strict standards. I... I'm just a worker on the assembly line, responsible for painting."

Old Wang looked at Xiao Li and suddenly understood everything. The so-called "creativity" was just a tool used by the company to create hype; the so-called "model of innovation" was just a puppet packaged by the company. And behind those seemingly creative "persimmon combs," what was hidden was the deep alienation of the workplace and the distortion of human nature.

He picked up a persimmon comb, examining it carefully. The original bright red color now looked particularly glaring. Old Wang slowly placed the persimmon comb back. He looked at Xiao Li, and felt like a lead weight was in his chest.

"Don't wipe them," Old Wang said, "they can never be wiped clean."

Xiao Li did not respond, only silently wiping the "persimmon combs" in his hand, his shadow stretched long by the office lights, like a small part trapped in a huge machine, unable to break free. Old Wang turned and left, feeling a chill down his spine, not just because the air conditioning was too cold, but also because he had gained another level of understanding of this absurd world.