How to Have a 10 Hour Working Week

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How many times have you seen articles with titles like this, promising to share the secret of how to get a better work/life balance? Don’t they make you dream of afternoons in the sunshine drinking beers with amigos? Do your thoughts drift to imagining what life would be like if every weekend was a long weekend?

Well, it’s possible, and this ten hour lifestyle is my current reality. I wake up when I want, I spend days hanging out with friends, and I’m generally having a bloody brilliant time.

But, it ain’t that simple, and I’m making some pretty crappy sacrifices to maintain my excellent lifestyle. Lemme tell you what I really have to do to barely work.


First, I had to stop buying shit. I love buying shit, and by shit, I mean all the moreish material things that I use to validate my existence.

Now, I have no shit.

I own three bras and they’re all properly gross. The white one hasn’t been white in months, the black one’s wires are poking out to the point that I actually have cut tits, and my ‘special occasion’ one is ripped in several places. My knickers aren’t faring much better, and I defy you to find one pair in my drawer that’s suitable to be seen by another human being (I’m even embarrassed to hang them on the washing line).

Makeup is out the window too. I haven’t bought any new stuff in one full year, and now I only cover spots and draw on my eyebrows for extra special events. Let’s not even get into how much money I’m saving by rejecting hair removal (I’m using feminism as an excuse – it sounds better than simply being workshy).

I bet you look hella better than I do because you have a real job that allows you to spend money on being your sexiest self.


Next, it’s important to stop living in a nice house. My accommodation has been less than desirable during my time in South America, and I’ve slept in places that were genuinely bad for my health (damp/cold/bed bugs/general terrible filth).

The last apartment I endured was the most challenging place I’ve ever lived (sorry boys, but you know this is true). I mean, we had maggots in the kitchen one day. Yep, maggots. Water also poured through the light fittings whenever it rained, so there was a constant concern over death by electrocution. But, I stayed there for six weeks because rent was £150 per month, which I can afford on my tiny income. Eventually I gave up and moved to a slightly pricier place, but it’s still far from ideal.

I mean, I had AN ACTUAL COCKROACH in my bed this week. Did you? Probably not.


You’re also going to need some pretty rad parents who are chill with the fact that their 30-year-old daughter is more high maintenance than most toddlers. They let me live with them for a month or two at a time, and they don’t make me pay board because they know that I physically cannot. They’ve also totally got my back, so when my plan finally backfires and I realise that my dream of working ten hours per week is fucking delusional, I know that I won’t be completely screwed.

Thanks mum and dad, and sorry you produced an idiot. But, my genes are your genes, so essentially this is your own fault.


Finally, let’s talk about our futures. You’ve got one, right? You’re climbing that success ladder or whatever it’s called, you’ve got a pension or savings, and you’ve bought a house that you’ll have that paid off by the time you’re an OAP?

Me? Nope.

I have £25 in my savings account, and I don’t really understand whether or not I have a pension (I vaguely remember signing something at my last job but I don’t know anything more than that). To choose time over money like I have, it’s important to remember that it’s not a great long-term plan. I really hope the UK state pension is still a thing in 45 years (yeah right lolllllll).


So yeah, anyone can work ten hours per week if they really want to, but you’re going to have to get really basic to make it happen.

And you never know, my no-work plan might pay off and I might be able to sustain myself while still having an obscene amount of free time. I guess we’ll see.

Until then, know that the next time you see me I’ll be wearing ripped underwear.


Is anybody in the world actually making a living from a ten-hour working week? If you are, PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU’RE DOING IT.

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