DingTalk's Big Boom: Jokes and Wisdom of a New Work Model

When people talk about "chur bao work" on DingTalk, they’re not referring to physically breaking bricks at a construction site, but rather an out-of-body experience of workplace energy. The moment the boss drops a message in the group saying, “This project is due tomorrow,” the entire company seems to hit the “fast-boil egg mode” button. DingTalk instantly becomes an adrenaline shot for office workers. Notification pings echo nonstop; unread red dots pile up like an avalanche. Some reply to messages mid-shower, others type “Received” in their dreams—this is the legendary “DingTalk-style workplace extreme challenge.”

But do you think this is just exploitation? Wrong! It’s precisely this absurdity of being “so chur that you end up laughing” that has given rise to a unique office subculture. Employees begin psychological warfare using DingTalk’s read receipts: “I saw it doesn’t mean I’ll reply.” They use “DING someone” as a workplace fireworks display—whosever cracks first takes on the task. Some have even developed the “DingTalk procrastination method”: silencing all notifications and then completing everything in a storm of activity during the final three minutes, followed by the classic line, “Just got out of a meeting, handling it now”—a performance worthy of an Oscar.

Even more interestingly, when remote work meets this chur rhythm, DingTalk becomes the thread binding teams together through a shared sense of “collective suffering camaraderie.” Late at night while burning the midnight oil, a cat meme suddenly pops into the group chat saying, “I’m back again.” Everyone instantly gets it—not a cry for help, but a declaration: we’re all still alive in this crazy game, and somehow, we can still laugh about it.

“Ding! You’ve successfully clocked in. Today’s energy points +10. Achievement unlocked: ‘Early Bird’!” This isn’t a mobile game notification—it’s a typical day under DingTalk’s “chur bao work” regime. When the dull silence of the office is broken by a crisp check-in sound, employees start competing over “signing in seven days straight to earn a digital badge.” Even the admin lady jokes, “Used to be like debt collection chasing people to clock in—now they’re fighting to tap the button themselves.”

DingTalk’s playful features have long transcended mere utility, turning it into a generator of small workplace joys. Memes are no longer LINE or WeChat’s exclusive domain. Original images like “Boss, don’t say more—I’m already fixing it” and “It’s not that I’m not trying, I’m just Ding-ga-ed” go viral in groups, instantly lightening the mood of formal meeting announcements. Some teams even use animated GIFs as secret signals—a “Bro shaking head” means opposition to a proposal, saving hundreds of words of debate.

One design firm even held a “Clock-In Marathon,” where the employee with the most weekly check-ins wins a “Meeting-Free Pass.” As a result, the office’s biggest latecomer became the attendance champion. Other teams created a custom “Slacking Alert” emoji—if someone delays their work, they get bombarded with ten in a row, forcing colleagues to rush their tasks amid laughter and groans. These seemingly silly features are quietly reshaping communication culture—replacing pressure with humor, using gamification to foster responsibility. Who says going to work can’t feel like leveling up? In the world of DingTalk, every day feels like completing quests and upgrading gear—you’re just missing loot boxes.

“Boss, I’m working my chur off from home today!” This is no longer an excuse for laziness—it’s a declaration of remote work in the DingTalk era. When the pandemic forced everyone out of offices and into their homes, DingTalk stepped in like a super-butler, handling video meetings, document collaboration, clock-ins, and even reminding you not to forget to mute your mic—because who hasn’t accidentally let one rip during a call?

DingTalk’s video conferencing is as stable as an old dog. Even if your internet connection is so bad it can barely load emojis, your face will still appear—blurry but present—in front of your manager. Even more impressive is screen sharing: no more worrying about projecting the wrong PPT. With one click, your entire team witnesses the masterpiece you were editing right up until the last second.

Online collaboration is where DingTalk truly shines. Multiple users editing a single document turns work into a game of “Who’s the Mole?”—you can clearly see who’s slacking and who’s actually grinding. One company used DingTalk to coordinate a team spread across five locations, launching a product within three days. The boss was so moved he wanted to hand out digital “Cloud Labor Model” awards to everyone.

Moving from physical desks to virtual workstations, DingTalk isn’t just a tool—it’s a generator of comic relief for remote survival. After all, who wouldn’t love attending meetings from under the blanket without being late?

While the lights in remote offices are still on, DingTalk has quietly activated its “future mode”—not to make you clock in from Mars, but to use AI to stealthily upgrade your work IQ. Don’t think of it as just a ding-dong assistant anymore. Today’s DingTalk wields big data like a spatula, stir-frying dishes of high-efficiency smart solutions. That report you wrote yesterday? It doesn’t just understand the content—it can predict which part the boss will underline in red and quietly revise it three times for you.

Even more astonishing: DingTalk’s AI meeting assistant has learned to “read the room.” Who’s avoiding eye contact on camera? Whose speeches always go in circles? It silently records these behaviors and later generates a “Team Focus Heatmap.” Next time you meet, the system might pop up: “Suggestion: shorten Xiao Li’s speaking time—he’s spent 17 consecutive minutes talking about ‘roughly’ and ‘possibly.’”

In the future, DingTalk might even launch an “Emotion Translator,” converting the boss’s vague “You think about it” into plain language: “I disagree, but I don’t want to argue.” Paired with big data analysis, it could recommend the optimal time to request leave: “Based on data from the past three years, submitting a vacation request at 3:47 PM on Wednesday increases approval chances by 68%.”

This isn’t science fiction—it’s everyday life loading in real time. DingTalk doesn’t just want you to work; it wants work to “start moving on its own.”

“Ding once, soul arrives!” This incantation, muttered tearfully by countless employees during late-night overtime, has long ceased to be just a notification alert. It symbolizes how DingTalk culture has seeped into corporate DNA. When clocking in shifts from access control machines to phone GPS, when morning meetings move from conference rooms into video squares, DingTalk doesn’t just change how we work—it quietly reshapes corporate culture itself, shifting from “obedience” to “instant response,” from “waiting for orders” to “not replying after reading is a sin.”

A startup once shared that after adopting DingTalk’s task boards and group collaboration tools, project cycles shortened by 30%. But the real surprise was cultural transformation: managers stopped sending emails like imperial decrees and instead commented directly on posts, “Great idea—try it out?” Authority flattened, and even jokes could spark decisions. At a major manufacturing firm, a factory supervisor recorded safety guidelines in his local dialect via DingTalk’s voice feature—and it racked up more views than official HR training videos. Employees joked, “Hearing the boss curse in Cantonese is more refreshing than watching PowerPoint slides!”

This “chur bao” (Cantonese slang meaning intense dedication) work atmosphere may seem driven by tools, but it’s actually born from the psychological safety of transparent communication. When everyone’s progress is visible, procrastination can’t hide, and contributions won’t go unnoticed. Over time, “being active on DingTalk” has become a new form of workplace capital—not about sucking up, but about defusing awkwardness with memes, delivering precise roasts with screenshots, and subtly steering meeting outcomes via voting functions.

Thus, work groups become real-time mirrors of corporate culture. A team brave enough to send a “slacking cat” sticker in front of the CEO is likely far more creative than one endlessly typing “Received, thank you.” DingTalk didn’t teach us how to work harder—but it did teach us how to finish the job… while still laughing.