I have a friend who has been in the system until age 35 without a promotion. Watching the younger colleagues who joined later than him get promoted to deputy section chief, become section chiefs, he feels dejected every day, always thinking he's accomplished nothing, that he's completely lost in life.

I told him: Don’t be fooled by the lie that “only officials are successful,” which PUA’s you. Even if in 10 more years you still don’t have a position, as long as you’re not sitting around idly, not hooked up to a ventilator in a hospital bed, and not being summoned by the Discipline Inspection Commission for tea, you’ve already won over 80% of people in this big institution.
I’m not just comforting him; over the years, I’ve seen all kinds—those who got promoted early and then got into trouble following their leaders, those who worked tirelessly and suddenly died from overwork, those who schemed for relationships and ended up completely marginalized. I’ve seen all kinds of situations.
The more I see, the more I feel that in this power machine within the system, simply surviving intact is the greatest achievement. Cut off that ridiculous ambition like a tumor. Congratulations, being 35 without a position means you have no vulnerabilities; precisely, it’s your strongest shield in this circle.
At your age, you have experience and seniority; your leaders trust you, some things only you can handle. You know everyone’s background in your unit, and anyone who sees you is polite. What are you afraid of?
Look at those section chiefs and directors who are even younger than you—seemingly glamorous, walking with swagger—yet, in reality, they’re all bloodthirsty on the edge of a knife, drowning in daily debts, deep pits they can’t fill. The power they hold is just high-interest loans exchanged for their lives and dignity, which they’ll have to pay back sooner or later with interest. You envy their crowds following them, but they envy your ability to sleep soundly.
In our unit, there’s a leader who’s already a senior executive. The higher-ups are strict, and he doesn’t want to compete anymore. He simply requests a demotion to a regular staff member citing health issues. He earns less but is much more relaxed. When they meet, everyone still calls him “X General,” and he can still give orders? That’s real wisdom.
In this ecosystem of the system where power and responsibility are severely unbalanced, having no official title means no signing authority. No signing authority means you never have to take responsibility for unfinished projects, illegal approvals, or inexplicable disciplinary actions. You’re just a transparent insulator—when lightning strikes, the tall ones must bear the brunt, while you stay in the corner watching them burn to ashes.
At this age, you must see through the bloody logic behind promotions: the organization never promotes someone because they’ve worked hard and contributed; it’s because they’re useful or have useful resources behind them. If you’re still not promoted at 35, it means you’re neither a sharp sword nor a mine that can supply blood. If you still rush upward like a naive kid, you’re just courting death.
Your current position is the most cost-effective paradise. Earning nearly the same as your leader, but without any political risks—like a copper pea that can’t be boiled, hammered flat, or exploded. Your leaders have no way to control you; they can scold you, push burdens on you, or praise you for awards, but your state of indifference makes everyone who tries to manipulate you utterly hopeless because you’ve cut off all the channels of desire they could control.
The key is to learn to enjoy this marginalized “failure”—it’s your capital for the rest of your life. The biggest lie in the system is that achievement equals status; the truth is that inaction avoids trouble.
After 35, your body begins to decline, and family and old folks’ affairs pile up. If you still hold a position, you’ll eventually be squeezed from both ends into minced meat. But now, you have the most luxurious resource in this system: time. You can invest all the energy saved at work into your health and family.
Look at those colleagues fighting over a deputy section chief position, looking like a black-eyed chicken; look at their bloated bellies and thinning hair caused by long-term socializing—you should sneer inwardly. This marathon isn’t about who runs fastest but who lives longer, who can get a hundred-year retirement pension, who’s the biggest winner in milking the country’s wool.
Stop being disgusted by the success clichés outside; within the system, there’s no need for dreams—only survival. Being 35 without a position means you’ve been successfully filtered out, becoming a “discarded pawn.” This sense of security is something those who are always scheming to serve their leaders will never understand.
What you really need to do now is wrap your heart in a thick old cocoon, indifferent to warmth or cold, to right or wrong. Treat your unit only as a cash machine that pays social security and wages—clock in on time, eat on time, leave on time. In everyone’s anxious gaze, comfortably be a “useless person” who’s happy with nothing.
Remember, in this system full of schemes and traps, whoever manages to endure until retirement has already won.