I have a weird job. My commute usually involves a plane and my ‘cubical’ is a table in a ballroom of a hotel. I fly somewhere, work four or five 16 hour days, and then I fly home. And that’s it: job’s over and my time is my own until the next job. I do this about 25 times a year and that pays the bills. I don’t have any extra money, but I do have something that is much more valuable: time. My own time, in my own house, where I can play games and write stories and read books to my heart’s content.
But every once in a while I end up working from home. I know this is just me being crabby, but I HATE working from home. I don’t hate my job, but keep it out of my house! It feels like an invasion. It makes home feel less home-like. I am uncomfortable in a place that should be my sanctuary. (I can’t say no to this work if I want to pay the rent next month.)
I have a story in my head right now, one that I would love to spend the day working on. But I can’t, because I have homework to do. *whine* I send the homework to a client, but the client never thinks it’s good enough and always sends it back. One more revision, one more tweak until I start to lose my mind. (It would just be easier to teach the client how to use After Effects and be done with it.) They know they have me trapped because I am home. “You’re not doing anything important, right, Jill?”
Reading and writing and gaming are not important to them, those work-a-holics who think if they aren’t using every second to make money (money they never take the time to spend) that time is wasted. But those activities are very important to me. They are how I bring joy into my life.
I have arranged my life so that I work just enough. No one is dependent on me and I am dependent on no one. I don’t have fancy clothes or a fancy car, and my apartment is small, but I have TIME. When I am home, that time
is should be my own.
What is more important to you, time or money?