April is already halfway gone. Quite a lot has happened in these two weeks, though none of it seemed large enough to stand alone as its own entry. Someone also told me not long ago that what I have written in recent years has been getting more and more perfunctory—mostly plain records, without much beauty to speak of. So on one of those rare occasions when I caught a trace of spring and thought, spring really is lovely, I should write something, I still had no idea where to begin. In the end, I let it pass.
But there is always some relatively quiet afternoon when, looking back over the past few days, I can still feel that life has been happening in a real and tangible way.
A possible transfer
Around April or May last year, I took part in a selection assessment for a transfer. During the interview, I ran into my mentor, and my confidence disappeared on the spot. The result later was exactly what I had expected: the two colleagues who were chosen were both extremely capable people with piles of awards behind them.
When this year's announcement came out, I spent an entire evening wavering over whether to apply. On one hand, I felt I ought to make some kind of change, and that even if I failed, it would not really cost me anything. On the other hand, I felt I would probably just be there to make up the numbers, so I might as well give up before starting. Fortunately, the first thought eventually beat the second. I submitted the application form and materials, then spent the night before the interview in a daze, never quite feeling as if I had slept properly.
By the time the interview was over, I already had a sense of the result. In fact, even while waiting for the interview, I had more or less figured it out. For transfers from the same school into the same subject, at most one person could be selected. Two people from another school simply did not show up. Of the five people who drew lots, the other four, apart from me, were all from the same school. That day, several colleagues also came over to ask questions or share the “inside information” they had heard. Still, I did not dare to be too happy. Before an official notice arrived, it felt safer to stay cautious.
A little after five on Monday afternoon, I got a call from the personnel office. I asked what place I had ranked. If I had been selected in third, fourth, or fifth place, then it really would have been luck, and I could already imagine people joking about it behind my back. When I found out I was first, the stone hanging in my heart finally dropped.
Getting to work, storm or no storm
On Tuesday morning I got up a little after five and left for work sometime after six. The wind had been fierce through the night, and there were broken branches lying across the road everywhere. It was still dark, and the headlights were not especially bright. Luckily, I was not driving fast, so I managed to avoid every obstacle along the way.
Then all of a sudden, there was a large tree lying across the road ahead. From where I was sitting, it looked as if the entire way forward had been blocked.
I reversed a little, turned on the hazard lights, and was about to get out to take a look. The car behind me could not wait and squeezed past along the side closest to the guardrail. I walked over with my umbrella. It really was narrow there, but since someone else had made it through, I figured I could too. So I carefully edged the car along the guardrail and squeezed past. The parking sensors kept beeping, the branches scraped loudly along the body of the car, and my heart was bleeding along with it.
At least I got through. Not long after, the same thing happened again, so I had to squeeze through once more. I even got out to clear away some of the thicker branches from the road. Fortunately, I had not left too late, so I was not late for work that day.
Afterward, I checked the car carefully and found a few fairly obvious scratches. But when I wiped them with my hand, the rainwater mixed with the dust on the car somehow made the marks less noticeable. If you did not look closely, you might not see them at all.
Whenever I think about how I pushed through wind and rain without hesitation just to get to work, I start wondering whether I have been psychologically conditioned by the workplace. After all, no leader is going to care how you managed to arrive.
Traffic rules and small lessons
On my way home last night, I ran into another drunk-driving checkpoint. It reminded me of the previous time I encountered one. The officer motioned for me to pull over to the right, and I cooperated fully, rolled down the window, and could not help smiling because I finally had a chance to participate in a drunk-driving check. The officer saw my expression and simply waved me on.
Last night, I kept my face completely expressionless. When it was my turn, the officer still waved me through. For some reason I behaved like an overly sociable person and asked, “Aren't you going to have me blow, officer?” He did not grant my wish. “I trust you. Go ahead.”
At noon today, on the way home, I was waiting at a traffic light when the sign for entering the waiting area lit up. I started moving slowly. The Mercedes next to me, however, hit the accelerator and shot straight through, while I stopped at the stop line and stared in disbelief. Well then: six points and two hundred yuan. I hope that driver pays more attention while waiting at traffic lights in the future. Just because an electric scooter runs a red light does not mean you should follow it. Electric scooters do not get points deducted.
And why am I not laughing? Because after a long highway drive, I once lost focus at a city intersection. The straight-ahead light turned green, and I made a left turn. I managed to reduce the six-point penalty through traffic-law study, but the two hundred yuan was enough to buy several very decent meals.