In 2026 I’m 36, sitting in front of the computer refreshing the BOSS Zhipin recruitment pages over and over. Almost every application record on the screen shows plain “read but no reply,” and the occasional interview invitation ends abruptly once the HR casually asks about “age.” In that moment, the memory sealed for 11 years suddenly surged up, and it struck me that I had already, without realizing it, completed a cruel workplace identity swap—from the young person who screened others back then, to the middle-aged person now screened by the industry and abandoned by age.
The Screener Back Then
In 2015, 11 years ago, I was 24, just a few years out of school, carrying a bit of greenness and drive, and joined a Hangzhou company doing CDN. At the time the department was short-staffed, and it happened that I was in CCIE training, and I had a suitable candidate on hand—31 years old, with solid technical skills. I thought it was a win-win referral, but the HR rejected it out of hand, with a reason as blunt as it was cold: “This one won’t do, too old.”
Back then the internet industry was loudly waving the banner of “youthfulness and flatness,” as if “young” were the greatest capital and “old” the original sin of the workplace. I didn’t feel anything was amiss at the time, and even tacitly accepted such rules—after all, I was the young person favored by the industry: 24, no family ties, able to pull all-nighters, able to obey unconditionally, easily placated with empty promises. Naturally I couldn’t empathize with the awkwardness of a 31-year-old job seeker. That 31-year-old candidate was shut out of the workplace, and I never imagined that eleven years later the same fate would land on me, unchanged, word for word.
Over those eleven years, I went from a clueless workplace newbie to a technical veteran who could stand on his own. I was thoroughly familiar with every link of the internet industry—front end, back end, mobile, operations, even IDC server-room operations and all kinds of middleware services. Now that AI has risen, I can adapt quickly too, using AI to independently complete all kinds of projects, and I considered that with such all-around ability I was more than enough to stand firm in the industry. But I forgot—the rules of the industry were never about how all-around your ability is, but whether you match the “youthfulness” screening standard.
The Marginalized Technical Veteran
In 2025 I was 35. Three years earlier, because of a big company layoff and business adjustment, I was forced to transfer from another group to a new department. My direct TL had the same job grade as me but was a few years younger. Perhaps because I had longer tenure and more experience, perhaps because I had long shed the obedience of youth, he always kept a certain distance from me. In daily work he never gave me any help or guidance; instead he often publicly praised the colleagues who had just graduated, in the department WeChat group, full of recognition and favoritism in his words.
Once he said in the group that the department needed to hire. I thought my network was decent, so I volunteered that I could ask around for suitable candidates. But his reply was like a basin of cold water, snuffing out my enthusiasm outright: “No need to find older ones, push some younger ones over—older ones are hard to manage.” In that moment I knew clearly that this remark, though seemingly about hiring standards, was actually a veiled jab at me—I was the “hard to manage” older employee he meant.
He also privately told people, “It’s very hard to persuade you.” That sentence, light as air, became a stone pressing on my heart. I thought the workplace competed on technology, on ability, on output, but in his eyes it competed on “whether you’re easy to manage” and “whether you’re obedient.” I know too much, have seen too many industry tricks, won’t obey blindly, won’t be easily placated with empty promises—traits I see as maturity and clarity, he sees as flaws: “hard to manage,” “hard to persuade.”
Within my first 5 years I was an outstanding employee for 3 consecutive years and got promoted in the first 3 years, and I achieved a lot and gained a lot of recognition. But as company business declined, the technical staff and us veteran staff were the first to be laid off. When my previous TL was laid off, I knew my fate was sealed—it had nothing to do with whether I worked hard. Since ancient times, a new sovereign brings his own courtiers.
Yesterday my former-former direct superior told me that a project I’d written for the finance department back then, a scraper for China Merchants Bank, had been thrown back to him, because my former department couldn’t pick up the RPA I’d written for finance. The bank’s pages had been redesigned. The people in the group I used to be in couldn’t pick it up.
In March I’d already been laid off for 3 months, and my former colleague still came to me for help because the RPA automation project I’d handed over had a fault.
I consider myself probably the best at technology in our group, and I’ve never doubted my technical ability. My salary was probably the highest in the group apart from the group leader. Precisely because of that, under the premise of cutting costs and raising efficiency, the higher-paid are the first to lie on the layoff list—the boss thought laying me off meant he could support 2 cheaper, obedient, compliant young people. Young people are obedient and compliant, can work overtime, can compete hard, while I, a veteran, sometimes disagree with his views and rebut some of his opinions. Perhaps that’s the main reason I was laid off and marginalized. Just like in A Quirky Retelling of 407 Years of the Han Dynasty (《趣说汉朝407年》) I recently read: Emperor Jing of Han looked on the surface like an eternal wise ruler, a model emperor of the “Rule of Wen and Jing,” but when it came to someone like Zhou Yafu, whose achievements overshadowed his sovereign—even though he helped the Han dynasty withstand the Rebellion of the Seven States—he still could not escape death. What emperors want are obedient, controllable ministers, not talented people with their own opinions who won’t submit to discipline. It’s really the same in the workplace.
On the workplace’s dislike of older people, you can also read the article I compiled: A Clear-Eyed Entry into the World: The Truth of a Worker’s Survival Under the Law
The Person Being Screened
At the end of the year, the news of the layoff came, and I wasn’t a bit surprised. It was as if my dozen-plus years of experience and my all-around technical ability were worth nothing. After leaving the company I began frantically sending out résumés, but most vanished without a trace. I didn’t understand: why, when I can skillfully handle the whole chain of internet work and use AI to complete projects efficiently, can I hardly even get an interview? Until rejection after rejection—even the client company of Alibaba Cloud’s outsourcing firm rejected me for being too old, even though my résumé and work experience matched 100%.
So it turns out that 11 years on, age discrimination in the internet industry has never disappeared; it’s just that the target being harvested changes batch after batch. In 2015 the industry drew the line at 30+; in 2025 the industry still draws the line at 30+; perhaps in a few more years that line will be pulled even lower. Those “rules” we tacitly accepted back then, those “screenings” we personally took part in, will in the end, one day, bite us back.
Finally Meeting the Me of Years Ago
I often think of that 31-year-old candidate I referred back in 2015 who was rejected. His feelings then were probably exactly like mine now—full of passion, possessed of real skill, yet shut out of the industry purely because of age. Back then I didn’t understand his helplessness; now that I’ve lived through it all, I understand how bone-chilling it is to be defined by age and abandoned by the rules.
I did nothing wrong, my ability hasn’t regressed—I’ve actually kept learning new technology throughout. I’m just living in a deformed employment environment that rewards only the young and abandons the middle-aged. The industry doesn’t need old technical staff; young leaders can’t tolerate an older colleague at the same level; grassroots positions favor only the young, obedient newcomers who can be over-extracted. We 35+ technical people, even with rich experience and all-around ability, ultimately can’t escape the “too old” label. Don’t tell me that a 35+ person still doing grassroots work means he’s incompetent—a company simply doesn’t need that many middle and senior managers. The vast majority just need grassroots execution to haul bricks.
Conclusion: An Unwilling Breakthrough
Eleven years in the workplace, one full cycle. I went from that clueless screener back then to the person being screened now. So the so-called workplace fairness, under the banner of “youthfulness,” ultimately seems so flimsy. And all I can do, perhaps, is accept this cruel reality, jump out of this fixed screening system, and, with my own technology and experience, find a way out for myself in the cracks. After all, I’m not willing to give in, and I won’t admit defeat—I’m not “hard to manage,” I just no longer want to be a screw, ordered around by anyone, used and discarded.
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