The English version is tranlate by ChatGPT, I will fix it later.

Let’s start with a simple test, and rest assured, I won’t retain any of your personal information.

If you had to choose among the following three types of fish, which one would you like to be? Please select the fish that best represents your current state:

1. Goldfish
2. Dolphin
3. Salmon

Well, regardless of which one you chose, there’s no correct answer. But that’s precisely the concept I want to discuss today, and it’s an idea I’ve been gradually developing over the past few years.

During my college days, Steve Jobs was still alive, and smartphones and social networks were just beginning to emerge as the next big thing. I certainly wasn’t a trendsetter, and I had no idea that smartphones would become the primary development core in the future. However, I did witness the constant advancements in web technology, and I experienced a mix of fear and excitement as new technologies arrived. What frightened me was the rising learning curve and the demand for specialization. What excited me was my passion for engineering, the pursuit of making things faster, more user-friendly, and more practical. Even though I didn’t believe that rapid technological progress was always beneficial, I was still inspired by the atmosphere and hoped that technology would bring about more progress in critical thinking.

Amid this trend, I became somewhat enamored with the aura of Steve Jobs, admiring his dedication to his passions and his famous commencement speech that had become widely circulated on the internet. In Taiwan, there was a wave of enthusiasm and praise for “passion,” and I still remember his mantra:

“Stay hungry. Stay foolish.” - Steve Jobs

I genuinely believed that this statement made sense. I also believed that life should be about pursuing what you love, or at the very least, continuously learning and satisfying your curiosity, something I thought I would do throughout my life.

But this brought about a dilemma: What did Jobs mean by “passion” in his speech? Was it a hobby you could persistently pursue? Was it finding a path that aligned with your inner aspirations? And even if you did find your calling, what if your passion kept shifting due to your ever-changing, adventurous personality?

The English version is tranlate by ChatGPT, I will fix it later.

“You really slow, you know?”

“Well, my bike is old, and it’s a bit of issue…”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Well…”

This happened during a certain occasion when I was working outside the store with my former manager. I can’t recall the specifics of the job or whether we were assisting in delivering board games to customers. What I do remember is that my motorcycle was moving at a snail’s pace. It was an old hand-me-down from my grandmother, and pushing it to exceed 50 kilometers per hour was a real challenge. On regular city bridges and steep slopes, it emitted a rumbling and sputtering noise from the exhaust pipe, trying its hardest to ascend the hill with its gas-guzzling effort, laboring on until it crossed the peak of the bridge.

At that moment, the former manager and I embarked on our journey back to the store. His motorcycle swiftly made its way, while mine sluggishly kept pace beside it on the road. I speculated that he might have presumed I had vanished, clueless about my whereabouts. Upon my arrival at the store, he suddenly inquired about what had happened earlier, with a slightly stern tone but an underlying concern in his voice.

The former manager, affectionately known as “Hou Hou,” was a somewhat plump individual, approximately a year or two older than me. He sported an unconventional youthful white hue of hair that didn’t match his age. His hairstyle featured elevated sides, with streaks of silver intertwined amid the black strands atop his head. His typical facial expression tended to be more serious, lacking a smile, which initially made me a tad apprehensive and unsure of how to interact with him. However, this demeanor didn’t extend to our board game sessions. When he smiled during those moments, it resonated deeply within.

“Are you done?”

I hesitated for a moment and replied, “Yes…”

The interviewer wore a serious expression and said, “You missed a rule in what you just explained. You didn’t mention…”

I had already forgotten which rule I had missed at that moment. If I remember correctly, it was a board game called “Bang!”, and I had been explaining its game rule for about 15 minutes to pass the interview. Despite feeling nervous mixed with excitement, I was conceited that after a week of preparation, I had performed exceptionally well, and there wouldn’t be any issues to be concerned about.

Well, just as I was feeling proud of myself, the interviewer began to criticize and pointed out two specific rules that I had missed.

“Drop it,” I told myself after undergoing such a rigorous interview.

I pondered, “After all, all I wanted was a part-time job. I wished to continue nurturing my passion for music and have the time to play my guitar every day. If applying for a part-time position requires such meticulous attention to detail in the rules, I really don’t know why I would want to work here…”

Maybe, is the place conveniently close to home? Or maybe, it is because of my interest in games? Regardless, I was simply hoping to continue playing my guitar, enjoy more leisure time, and combine my previous year’s experience in restaurant service with my love for games. I wanted to maintain my carefree life with a modest income.

As I grappled with the immense pressure from the interviewers and tried to calm my emotions over the course of a week, something unexpected happened.