When Alex Wong was growing up, his father spent most of his time at work instead of at home. Family holidays were also limited to summertime.
But his father made a promise: After retirement, they would surely make up for lost time.
That promise was shattered when, shortly after Wong’s 18th birthday, his father suffered a spinal injury that left him paralysed.
It was a life-changing moment for Wong. If his father had worked tirelessly for a future that never came, he thought, what was stopping the same from happening to him?
“Previously I’d spent most of my time studying,” the 22-year-old said. “Now I want to enjoy myself enough first and think about the future only in my 30s.”
His commitment to this altered path is unwavering, even in the face of financial hardship. His mother, the family breadwinner, supports not only his father, but also his six-year-old brother. They also had to hire a domestic helper from Indonesia.
Wong copes by taking on warehouse jobs a few days a month, earning just HK$310 (US$40) a day when there is work to be found. But he is not in any rush to secure something more stable.
His mindset is far from unique. A Hong Kong government-related survey last year found that among youth (aged 15 to 29) not studying or working, 36 per cent had no plans to get a job.
Indeed, the phenomenon called “tang ping”, or lying flat — a rejection of the culture of hard work — has gained ground in the city.
About 44 per cent of secondary students in a Hong Kong Young Women’s Christian Association poll last year said they were lying flat or planning to do so.
For some, it is about freedom. For others, it is boredom.
Ken Hui, 26, worked full-time for about six months before quitting in 2023. His admin job, tied to sports and event planning, seemed exciting at first but quickly became repetitive.
“I don’t want to go back to full-time (work) because I don’t want my job to be very monotonous — repeating the same work every day (and) knocking off at the same time,” he said. “There’s no life.”
He now gets by with freelance gigs, like photography.
Some Gen Z professionals, meanwhile, are freelancing full-time or juggling multiple part-time jobs. They are a growing group known as “slashers” — so named because of the slashes in their job descriptions.
Make-up artist Joyce Fung, for instance, is also a part-time bagel maker at a cafe. “I’m lucky that the cafe is flexible about working hours,” the 25-year-old said. “They know that I’m a ‘slasher’ and I take on freelance work.
“After I finish my make-up work or on days with no make-up jobs, I can work there.”
She does not plan on stopping, perhaps ever. “I’m very scared of boredom,” Fung said. “If I must … work 9 to 5 every day and do work that’s pretty much the same, that isn’t a way of life I desire.”
As young Hongkongers like her eschew stable careers, the programme Insight explores whether the city’s Gen Z are growing work-weary altogether and what can move the needle for them.
FROM FINANCIAL SUPPORT TO COVID-19 IMPACT
In 2022, government data showed that Hong Kong had lost around 116,600 young workers (aged 18 to 39) over a two-year period. Many either left the city or simply opted out of the workforce.
Experts posit that one reason behind the shift in Gen Z is the financial security achieved by previous generations.
“(Their) parents are … better off and don’t expect the new generation to earn a lot to take care of them,” said Benson Chan, chief officer of the Mental Health Association of Hong Kong. “This generation doesn’t really face financial pressures.”
As a result, many young adults remain financially dependent on their families, with a majority still living at home.
This has given rise to the buzzword “full-time children”, young adults who live with their parents and help out with household chores in exchange for an allowance.
Beyond their parents’ purse strings, many Gen Zers are also focused on the present rather than on long-term financial goals.
Most of Wong’s friends, he said, have a spend-now, work-later mentality. They would rather earn just enough to buy games, upgrade their devices and enjoy life. “They think about going back to work only when they run out of money.”
Chan suggested that growing up in a world of social media and instant gratification has left Gen Zers feeling unfulfilled when their wants are not met immediately.
At the same time, long-term financial goals seem out of reach. A 2024 HSBC survey found that 61 per cent of Gen Z Hongkongers believed home ownership was “far-fetched” for them.
After all, Hong Kong is one of the world’s most expensive property markets: The average private home costs US$1.15 million.
It does not seem worth it for Hui. “I don’t want to put my money in property and cars,” he said. “I work so that I can earn money to go travelling.”
Chan believes this disillusionment runs deeper. “Many youths feel, ‘If I can’t meet expectations anyway, why should I work?’” he said.
The pandemic also helped shape Gen Z’s perspectives. It cut off their social interactions and deepened feelings of seclusion.
Wong experienced this firsthand. While studying in mainland China as a cross-border student, he found himself trapped under strict quarantine measures.
“In the small neighbourhoods, you were all boarded up, with only one point of entry and exit. You could only use delivery services to get groceries,” recalled Wong, who became “even more reclusive”.
The isolation, combined with exam stress, took a toll on his mental health. At his lowest point, he even considered taking his own life.
Chan, who works with young people experiencing mental health issues, said many of them struggle because “they face outside pressures or lack a clear goal for their future”.
“So they feel indifferent towards having (success) or not. … They think it’s okay to lie flat at home.”
CAN GEN Z AFFORD TO BE PICKY?
Despite their reluctance to work full-time, Gen Zers might not have the luxury to hold off on seeking permanent employment as opportunities are dwindling.
Take 24-year-old Ada Siu. A recent communications graduate, she and some of her classmates struggled for six months to land a full-time job. They had to submit over 100 applications each to secure a few interviews.
Hong Kong’s post-pandemic recovery has been sluggish. Gross domestic product growth last year — 2.5 per cent — was at the lowest point of the projected range. This year, growth is expected to be between 2 per cent and 3 per cent.
Small and medium enterprises have been hardest hit. High interest rates, a property slump and an exodus of investors have left these businesses struggling to stay afloat.
They make up more than 98 per cent of Hong Kong’s total enterprises, employ more than 44 per cent of the private sector workforce but must scramble to attract young talent.
A few months ago, Siu secured a full-time role at a small agency, where she helped with events and public relations. But her time there did not last long.
“On the fourth day, … I already felt (the company) was unsuitable for me,” she recalled. “I went right back to job hunting. … I left after a month.”
Two in five Gen Zers and millennials in Hong Kong often think about leaving their jobs, according to a survey last year. Many of them may be in search of greater engagement.
“I’d feel like a frog … in boiling water,” Siu said about staying long in a company. “If I feel that I’ve already learnt enough in this position or have experienced enough, then I think it’s natural to want to change.”
Job hopping is frowned upon, however, in Hong Kong’s traditional work culture.
“(Job hoppers) are … seen as a high cost for companies because you train them and then they leave,” noted Wendy Suen, the head of talent solutions for recruitment consultancy ConnectedConsult.
Adding to the challenge for Hong Kong’s Gen Z is competition from mainland China. Since 2022, relaxed visa rules have allowed more mainlanders to live and work in the city.
In 2023, there was an upsurge in applications for the Immigration Arrangements for Non-local Graduates visa, which allows non-local students to stay in Hong Kong and work after graduation, cited Natixis Corporate and Investment Banking senior economist Gary Ng.
And since November, the government has also allowed non-local undergraduates to work part-time. This applies to around 20,000 students, equivalent to more than 3 per cent of the 15 to 24 age group in Hong Kong.
That is an influx of job hunters into a labour market that is not growing, observed Ng.
“If (non-local students) want to stay in Hong Kong, … it’d be fair to assume that some of (them) may be willing to work harder to basically compete for the same jobs,” he said.
Suen added that mainlanders are increasingly drawn to Hong Kong as a stepping stone to the global arena and tend to be more receptive to traditional work expectations such as long hours.
WHAT WILL GET GEN Z TO CLOCK IN AGAIN?
To attract more Gen Z Hongkongers, who are increasingly concerned about burnout, anxiety and mental health, Suen suggested that companies should focus on implementing well-being initiatives.
A survey released last year by mental health startup Intellect and digital wealth platform Endowus found that 31 per cent of Hong Kong millennials and Gen Zers wanted their workplaces to offer mental wellness workshops.
In another recent survey, global communications firm Edelman found that Hong Kong’s Gen Z have high expectations for their leaders. They want a manager who is hard-working and someone like a friend, whom they can connect with naturally.
Young workers are also known to seek out flatter hierarchies and more collaborative work environments. Many of these preferences, however, could prove challenging in Hong Kong’s workplaces, which remain largely hierarchical, with an emphasis on rules and professionalism.
Then there is the city’s long-hours culture. According to a Hong Kong Federation of Trade Unions survey in 2023, more than half of workers put in over 45 hours a week; 7.3 per cent of respondents worked over 70 hours.
