There are 367 people in Beijing Automotive Research Institute, including 13 senior engineers at researcher level, 25 senior engineers at researcher level, 189 engineers and assistant engineers, and the rest are technicians such as lathe operators, fitters, and milling workers, as well as ordinary workers.
From this data, we can see that the strength of Beijing Automotive Research Institute is still quite impressive. If they can ensure continuous investment in research and development funds, they will definitely achieve some outstanding results. Unfortunately, they encountered a group of short-sighted idiots. If it weren't for Lucas Shen's appearance, their second half of life would have been wasted.
Zhang Deyou sat on the worn sofa, puffing on a freshly rolled bag of dry tobacco. Because it was a tube-shaped building and on the first floor, the lighting was not very good, and the living room was not big, and there were a lot of sundries, giving people a very depressing and cramped feeling.
"Crunch...Crunch..."
The homemade electric fan next to him was creaking, but it couldn't blow away Zhang Deyou's frown. He was the only eighth-level worker in the institute. A few days ago, Banon, the director he respected very much, found him and told him that he had resigned and invited him to a private car company. He didn't say whether to go or not, but just said he would consider it.
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