Imagine a nationwide chain of upmarket coffee shops in India building their fortune on slave labour — or almost. Well, much to her dismay and anger, that is what a starry-eyed twenty-year-old discovered in China last month.

Tired of working nights as a waitress and as a beer-seller in bars, Xiao Ying had decided to put her life in order. Her erratic hours and diet had changed a plump, scrubbed-clean, ponytailed teenager into an emaciated-looking girl with an unhealthy pallor, damaged skin and hair grown straggly with frequent dyeing and curling. Worse, she revealed that even her monthly periods had stopped.

Flitting from dormitory to dormitory, then from one rented room to another, sometimes alone, sometimes sharing it with a friend; going back and forth from her village to the city where she worked, Ying was now determined to hold a steady day job. She wanted her old unblemished skin and her health back. So she jumped at the “waitresses needed” notice outside this well-known chain of coffee shops. It seemed a godsend — she had just moved into the very building where the coffee shop was located; and, with her advantage of being able to speak English, even if with a strong rural accent, she was sure she would soon realize her dream of becoming ‘Captain’ in a ‘West café’.

Long nights

The first hurdle was crossed easily — the shop wanted girls with a minimum height of 165 centimetres. Her first visit to the café revealed that hardly any of the waitresses fitted that requirement — a pretty unreasonable one for Chinese girls in the South specially. But the visit also blew her hopes of a day job — the café closed at 1 a.m. and she would have to do night shifts every two weeks. But tempted by the convenience of just going upstairs to sleep after a night on her feet, she decided to try it anyway.

A week after having joined, Ying left. It was not just the contemptible salary — 500 yuan. That is what she had been getting when she was managing a tiny grocery store three years back. There, in addition, she got two meals and a bed; here, dormitory accommodation, normally provided for free by Chinese employers, cost an additional 200 yuan. Fortunately, she did not need it. Also for a change, here she could eat all she wanted — but within 15 minutes.

The salary, she was told by the others in the café, would go up within three months if she worked well. But to do so, she would have to spend most of it. Since Ying was from another province, her employers decided she would have to have a local work permit. That would cost her 150 yuan. They also wanted her to do a complete health check up costing 80 yuan.

Bonded labour

While they gave her a uniform, she was expected to buy her own stockings and shoes. They cost 15 yuan — a recurring expenditure because the shoes were so flimsy, they would barely last a month. Finally — and this she hated the most — they insisted on make-up: lipstick, rouge, eyeshadow, all of which she had never worn. Failure to do so would result in forfeiting half a day’s leave. And all she would get by way of leave for the first three months was precisely one day a month.

“Without earning anything, I have already spent 45 yuan on this stupid job. And at the end of the month, I will get not even 300 yuan!” wailed Ying. As it happened, Ying got nothing. The café’s rule said that anyone who left within two weeks would get no salary. “That’s the way it is, wherever you may work,” the employer told her when she protested. “I’ve worked at many places; yours has to be the worst,” yelled Ying.

But even as she was shouting at him, Ying knew, in her communist party-ruled country, there was nobody who would get her her rightful dues.