In China’s North-east, a Daily Jostle for Jobs Produces Mostly Despair By JAVIER C. HERNÁNDEZ and OWEN GUO in The NY Times, May 3, 2026

SHENYANG, China — Not long past the break of dawn, after downing a bowl of hot porridge and dropping off his son at school, Zhang Yuzeng made his way to a street corner near the Nanyun River. There, under the poplar trees, he rummaged through his toolbox.
Pliers, check. Club hammer, check. Cigarettes, check.
Mr. Zhang hung a sign on his scooter — “Electrician, carpenter, plumber” — and pumped a techno mix through his headphones. Then he waited.
“There is no other way,” he said. “If you don’t show up, you won’t be able to make a penny.”
Nearly every morning for the last two years, Mr. Zhang, 42, has advertised his skills and looked for work here at the Lu Yuan labor market in Shenyang, one of northeast China’s largest cities. Not so long ago, his prospects were decent: A day of painting walls or fixing toilets could fetch $50 or more.
But as the economy has slowed and parts of the northeast have fallen into recession, temporary jobs have grown scarce in Shenyang. Restaurants are cutting back, and construction companies are struggling to pay workers. For the few remaining positions, the daily rate has dropped below $30.
At the Lu Yuan market, the days begin with muted promise, as hundreds of workers gather along the banks of the Nanyun before sunrise, smoking cigarettes, eating sunflower seeds and sharing jokes.
There are cooks who were once famous for elaborate buffets but now go hungry at night, and maids who spend their days tidying closets but live in squalid rooms that cost $1.50 per night. The workers wave signs and show off their tools, and pounce at the sight of halting cars.
By early afternoon, after the street cleaners have swept away the last of the morning’s plastic wrappers and the construction vans have disappeared, the workers set out for home. Some wander the streets, depressed and defeated.
Shenyang, with a population of over eight million, was once a boom town, with its economy growing by 10 percent as recently as 2012. But under the pressure of a property glut and a downturn in manufacturing, the economy has slowed; last year, it grew by 3.5 percent.
Mr. Zhang moved to Shenyang from the countryside when he was 18. With his knack for laying electric cables, he had grown accustomed to working almost every day.
Now, sometimes more than a week passes without work. He worries that his wife, a waitress, might leave him. They have a 10-year-old son and a 20-year-old daughter, and their savings of about $3,000 are dwindling.
“I’m sad,” he said. “I’m a man in my 40s, and I can’t give my family happiness.”
As Mr. Zhang spoke, a beggar named Wang Baocheng appeared. Mr. Wang hobbles through the Lu Yuan market each day carrying a black trash bag filled with clothes and a statue of a monkey that he keeps for good luck.
This morning, his forehead was bruised and almost entirely purple. He tried to persuade a manager at a heat insulation factory that he was fit for work. The manager was dubious, accusing him of having a drinking problem.
“If you don’t hire me, I will lie underneath your car right now,” Mr. Wang threatened.
The man offered a 50-renminbi bill, about $8, and Mr. Wang took it and stumbled away.
On another corner, Zhao Yan, 58, a widow, struggled to get attention from potential employers in passing cars. She was looking for painting work, but said it had become more difficult for older laborers, many of them illiterate, to land jobs. She wore a blue hat with a Superman shield to set herself apart.
“It’s like a war,” she said. “Bosses are picky. They will choose younger people over me.”
Ms. Zhao said she often did not have enough money for food, subsisting on pastries that cost a few cents. “Other people can eat cooked rice, but I only get porridge,” she said.
On a sidewalk near a gazebo, a group of construction workers cracked open eggs that had been boiled in tea. They joked that they lived in “lantian lüguan,” meaning “the blue sky hotel,” or outdoors.
Still, some were confident the economy would eventually rebound.
“It can’t always be like this,” said Huang Wei, 58, an electrician. “It’s just like the stock market. After it declines, it will bounce back. But you never know how long that will take, and it’s hard for ordinary people to estimate. Fate is in the hands of the state.”
In a nearby exhibition hall, dozens of cooks gathered with cards pinned to their shirts identifying their specialties: pancakes, noodles, dumplings. They dressed neatly but not too neatly, they said, so the bosses would know they had experience. Workers who exaggerate their skills are often chased out of kitchens, they added.
Outside the hall, a bulletin board promoted a government buzzword, entrepreneurship, and urged residents to start their own businesses. The display offered brief biographies of an eclectic set of role models — including Walt Disney, the inventor James Watt and the radio pioneer Guglielmo Marconi — and explained how the toy manufacturer Mattel has turned Barbie dolls into valuable collector’s items.
“Innovation is the inexhaustible source of the progress of a nation,” read one slogan.
Workers ignored the display, gathering by the nearby noodle stands to smoke instead.
Mr. Zhang sat on a stool in his corner, passing the day listening to music and talking with friends. He had polished and organized his tools, tucking them away in towels and plastic bags.
When a black BMW 740Li stopped on the street, Mr. Zhang and several electricians rushed to the passenger window. A man needed help hanging a light. After a few minutes of negotiations, the car sped away: The man had refused to pay more than $30, and the workers said the job was too far away to be worth taking.
On days like this, Shenyang can seem especially gray. The river flows slowly. Arguments break out over jobs, sometimes turning violent. People talk about solving their problems by jumping into the river. Usually, they are joking.
Mr. Zhang said he often felt frustrated by the uncertainty of the job market. As a child growing up in a village in the eastern province of Shandong, he had dreamed of becoming a soldier. But his family did not have the connections to get him into the military, and he did not attend high school.
When he moved to Shenyang in 1991, his ambitions were revived, and he became a carpenter, thinking he could one day be a boss. “I was like a newborn calf, unafraid of tigers,” he said, invoking a Chinese proverb.
Now, Mr. Zhang said, he had no choice but to return to the Lu Yuan market each morning, even if his prospects are dim. “I have no other options,” he said.
A friend motioned to the water. “There’s always the river,” she said. http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/03/world/asia/northeast-china-economy-jobs.html?ref=asia&_r=0