When it comes to the art of conveying our discontent, we Chinese are learning. I mean, who can blame us, we only discovered a permissible level of dissatisfaction a few decades ago. We had no idea our lives weren’t perfect and now there’s so much discontent we need to get out of our system. In the old days we referred to our good old Confucian values to dispel any trouble: respect and listen to your elders no matter what. To 抱怨 (bàoyuàn, complain) was an alien concept in the workplace, too. As a small cog in the grand machine that is the glorious socialist motherland, one was proud to be put to any task so long as he or she was needed.

Everything has changed in this new age—with, proverbially, the squeaky wheel getting the grease rather than the nail that sticks out getting hammered down. But, we are still novices in the subtle art of complaints and how to deal with them. Surely, we are well versed in the technique of praise—to raise an individual to the state of immortal is a piece of cake to us. We can criticize, too—condemning our enemies with all kinds of grand gestures and flowery language. It is that middle ground, constructive criticism, that’s so hard to grasp. Be it the passive-aggressive grandstanding of Chinese newspapers or every online comment section in the whole of the world, so much of our planet is geared toward an economy of complaining.

The barrage of complaints one has to deal with effectively starts early in life—very early, childhood even. Chinese parents have become known for their harsh criticism of their children; thus, kicking and wailing, we are born into a whinging world. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Asian grading system, where “A” stands for “adequate”. That is the logic of many Chinese parents: you will never be good enough. To convey this point loud and clear, they lean on a semi-fictional figure with whom you will be compared in every aspect of your life: “the other family’s kid”. At school, your parents will say:

Look at Xiao Li next door, so self-disciplined at studying!
Nǐ kàn gébì de xiǎo lǐ, xuéxí duō zìjué a!
你看隔壁的小李，学习多自觉啊！

My co-worker’s daughter made it into a key high school this year. Why can’t you be like her?
Wǒ tóngshì de nǚ’ér jīnnián kǎo shàng zhòngdiǎn zhōngxuéle, nǐ zěnme jiù méi rénjiā zhème zhēngqì ne?

我同事的女儿今年考上重点中学了，你怎么就没人家这么争气呢？

The others can make it, why can’t you?
Biérén néng zuò dào, nǐ wèishéme zuò bù dào?
别人能做到，你为什么做不到？

Well, thanks mum and dad for reminding us that everyone is exactly the same (although back in your day, it was probably true). People often say that your worst enemy is yourself; in our case, it’s definitely “the other family’s kid”, the bastard. When we are finally done with school, our parents’ complaining stays with us.

The other family’s kid is going out with someone really nice, and you don’t even have the shadow of a boy/girlfriend.
Biérén jiā de háizi tánle gè tè yōuxiù de duìxiàng, nǐ lián gè nán/nǚ péngyǒu de yǐngzi dōu méi qiáojiàn.
别人家的孩子谈了个特优秀的对象，你连个男/女朋友的影子都没瞧见。

The other family’s kids are making good money and becoming bosses, and you are still working for other people.

Biérén jiā de háizi dōu zhēng dàqián, dāng lǎobǎnle, nǐ hái zài gěi biérén dǎgōng

别人家的孩子都挣大钱、当老板了，你还在给别人打工。

Just in case we want to express our disagreement and explain how stressful our parents’ complaints have made us, they switch the strategy to emotional manipulation.

Mum and dad only do this for your own good.
Bàba māmā zhèyàng dōu shì wèi nǐ hǎo
爸爸妈妈这样都是为你好。

Mum and dad worked so hard and worried endlessly for you growing up; why don’t you understand us in return?

Bàba māmā zhème xīnkǔ, cóngxiǎo dào dà bù zhīdào wèi nǐ cāole duōshǎo xīn, nǐ zěnme jiù bù zhīdào huíbào ne?
爸爸妈妈这么辛苦，从小到大不知道为你操了多少心，你怎么就不知道回报呢？

As befitting a son or daughter, you should recognize this as your cue to shut up and nod with guilt, which, truth be told, is the only response parents will ever get. Of course, if you have clever parents, they may use a combination of guilt and self-deprecation to explain the reasons you are an utter disappointment, leaving you with a feeling of both complete misery and futility.

Seeing you in this state, I admit that the fault is mine because of the old saying “like father like son”.
Kàn dào nǐ zhèyàng, wǒ jiù zhīdào yīdìng shì wǒ cuòle. Yīnwèi “yǒu qí fù bì yǒu qí zi” ma!
看到你这样，我就知道一定是我错了。因为 “有其父必有其子”嘛！

Complaining in the workplace is even trickier. In an employer’s market, the relationship between the employer and the employee is fragile to begin with. Any amateurish complaints from the staff could break it entirely. It is not the time for poetic sentiment and ornate rhetoric in an attempt to paint yourself as the protagonist of a tragic play. However, in 2013, an unfortunate Ms. Li who worked in a Beijing beauty salon learned this the hard way when she posted a complaint in her WeChat, forgetting the virtual existence of her boss.

[I] am lying in bed, asking myself; I believe I’m strong but don’t know how long I can keep going. Maybe it will end soon; tears running down my face.
Tǎng zài chuángshàng, ménxīnzìwèn, zì rèn jiānqiáng, bùzhī hái néng jiānchí duōjiǔ, yěxǔ kuàile, lèi liú mǎnmiàn.
躺在床上，扪心自问，自认坚强，不知还能坚持多久，也许快了，泪流满面。

Then, she took it up another notch:

[I] have a clear conscience, not afraid to face heaven and earth; the thunder is roaring outside my window: the gods are crying for me. They are watching your every move!

Wúkuì liángxīn hé tiāndì, cǐ shí chuāngwài léi shēng bùduàn, lǎo tiān wèi wǒ zài liúlèi. Rén zài zuò, tiān zài kàn!

无愧良心和天地，此时窗外雷声不断，老天为我在流泪。人在做，天在看!

In all fairness, to whom this impressive message was addressed is not exactly clear, but Ms. Li’s boss, Ms. Tang, immediately took offense.

She replied to the post by saying: If a job is making you so sad, there’s no point in keeping it!
Rúguǒ yī fèn gōngzuò ràng rén rúcǐ bēishāng, bù zuò yěbà!
如果一份工作让人如此悲伤，不做也罢!

The boss’s message was clear: she fired Ms. Li on WeChat. The whole incident later turned into a lawsuit (which Ms. Li ultimately won), becoming a piece of popular online news fueling much discussion. Bosses are naturally sensitive about workplace complaints. After all, they have the power to turn into a united force and start a “revolution”, and at the very least they result in “negative energy” or 负能量 (fù néngliàng), which is detrimental to morale.

In life generally, we talk to our friends and family about what is bothering us and ask for their advice. However, there is also the gloomy type who buys into the “glass half-empty” philosophy. To them, complaining is an obsessive, emotional compulsion. A million heartfelt pieces of advice won’t stop them. If you don’t want to be an emotional garbage can, here are some typical complaints you need to recognize:

I feel so sad.
Wǒ hǎo nánguò.
我好难过。

You have no idea how much I did for him.
Nǐ dōu bù zhīdào wǒ wèi tā fùchūle duōshǎo.
你都不知道我为他付出了多少。
I remember that it was not like this before.
Wǒ jìdé cóngqián shìqíng bìng bùshì zhèyàng de.
我记得从前事情并不是这样的。

As you can see, complainers love to dwell in the past, drowning in their emotions while refusing to view the situation with even a little bit of reason. Sometimes, they will get your hopes up in the middle of their long, tedious complaining sessions by saying:

I don’t even want to talk about it.
Wǒ dū bùxiǎng shuōle.
我都不想说了。
But of course, that’s just a figure of speech, which will be followed by even more complaints. Just like:

I don’t want to complain all the time, but…
Wǒ yě bùxiǎng lǎo shì bàoyuàn, kěshì……
我也不想老是抱怨，可是……

All in all, complaining is an intricate art form we desperately need. One suggestion of the phrase 对事不对人 (Duì shì bùduì rén) is “to treat it as an issue instead of taking it personally”. That’s as good a place to start as any.