‘Bachelor‑Degree Cleaners’ at China’s Pang Donglai Fill in an Hour, Fueling Credential‑Inflation Debate

The company posted a recruitment bulletin on August 23 announcing 900 openings for the new “Sanpang” store, which opened its online application portal at 10:00 a.m. Within 45 minutes the portal displayed a “closed” status, indicating that the required number of effective résumés had been reached for every role. In total, 2,700 qualified applications were logged, a three‑to‑one ratio of candidates to hires. The surge was so intense that the website briefly crashed as would‑be applicants scrambled to submit their details.

Among the roles advertised were 200 positions earmarked for retired border soldiers and 20 reserved for former inmates—a move the firm touts as part of its social‑responsibility programme. The remaining slots spanned a range of front‑line positions, from cashiers to security guards, but the most talked‑about were the cleaning staff posts that stipulated a university degree as a minimum qualification. A company spokesperson, speaking on the condition of anonymity, confirmed that the base salary for those cleaners is close to 9,000 yuan (approximately $1,260) per month after deductions, a figure that dwarfs the typical earnings for comparable jobs in the region.

The combination of high pay, a comprehensive benefits package that includes the “five insurances and one housing fund,” generous leave entitlements and a reputation for profit‑sharing with employees appears to have turned what would ordinarily be a low‑skill occupation into a coveted posting for recent graduates. Social‑media users on Weibo quickly dubbed the phenomenon “bachelor‑degree cleaners,” and the hashtag #胖东来新店本科学历保洁岗已招满 (Pang Donglai new store bachelor‑degree cleaning positions fully booked) trended for hours.

Reactions have been mixed. Some commentators applaud the retailer for offering well‑paid, stable work to a demographic that faces a tightening job market, arguing that the arrangement represents a pragmatic “willing transaction” in which graduates trade academic credentials for financial security. Others warn that the practice underscores a broader trend of “involution” (内卷), where the value of higher education is diluted as increasingly stringent qualifications are imposed on jobs that have traditionally required no formal schooling. Critics have described the policy as an “over‑consumption of talent,” suggesting that it may encourage a kind of credential inflation that devalues the very degrees it seeks.

The rapid filling of the positions also reflects Pang Donglai’s strong employer brand. The chain is known for its “employee‑centric” culture, which emphasizes respectful treatment, profit sharing and a supportive work environment. Such attributes have cultivated a loyal workforce and attracted new talent eager to join a company that promises both financial reward and a positive workplace atmosphere.

While the recruitment drive was limited to applicants from the Henan province, the story has resonated across China, highlighting the intensity of competition in today’s labour market. Even highly educated job‑seekers are turning to roles once considered blue‑collar, drawn by the promise of higher wages and better benefits. As the discussion continues, the episode may serve as a barometer for how Chinese employers and employees are navigating a landscape where education, remuneration and job security intersect in increasingly unexpected ways.