In a struggling Chinese job market, a new trend is blurring the lines between employment and performance. Young people are paying to work in fake offices, complete with desks, Wi-Fi, and “colleagues,” to maintain appearances, satisfy university requirements, and escape the stigma of joblessness.
No one dreams of working without pay, let alone paying their boss for the privilege, but in parts of China, that’s exactly what’s happening. With youth unemployment soaring past 14% and more than 12 million graduates flooding the market this year, a curious new industry is emerging: “fake offices” where people pay to pretend to work.
The concept is simple but surreal. For a daily fee often between 30 and 50 yuan ($4.20–$7) participants sit at desks in fully equipped spaces that mimic real companies, complete with computers, internet access, meeting rooms, and tea lounges. Some use the time to search for jobs, build side businesses, or sharpen skills; others simply want the structure, social atmosphere, and self-discipline an office environment brings. Lunch, snacks, and drinks are often included.
In Dongguan, a company fittingly named “Pretend To Work” charges 30 yuan a day. One of its regulars, 30-year-old Shui Shou, joined in April after his food business collapsed. He now shares the workspace with five “colleagues” who are also paying to be there. “I’m very happy it feels like teamwork,” he says.
Such operations are now appearing in major cities like Shenzhen, Shanghai, Nanjing, Wuhan, Chengdu, and Kunming. For some, the setup helps meet academic or family expectations. In Shanghai, 23-year-old Xiaowen Tang joined a fake office earlier this year to fulfill her university’s requirement for proof of a job or internship before receiving her diploma. She sent staged photos as evidence and now earns money writing novels online from the same space.
Experts say the trend reflects deeper economic fractures. Dr. Christian Yao of Victoria University of Wellington calls these spaces “a temporary solution to the mismatch between education and jobs.” Dr. Biao Xiang of the Max Planck Institute adds that they give disheartened youth “a small space outside mainstream society” to regain confidence.
The owner of Dongguan’s Pretend To Work, known as Feiyu, says 40% of his clients are fresh graduates fabricating internships for their universities, while the rest are freelancers many in digital industries looking for community. He insists it’s more than a business; it’s a social experiment. “This is about using lies to maintain respect, but also helping some people find the truth,” he explains.
Whether the model will be profitable is uncertain, but for now, it’s filling a social need. Shou, for one, is using his “office time” to master artificial intelligence tools, hoping the skill will make him more employable. “It’s not just about pretending,” he says. “It’s about preparing for the real thing.”
