Why I no longer want to sell my time for money

There have been periods in History when human time was extremely valued. Today, in Europe, I sometimes get the impression that this is no longer really the case.

Working five days out of seven to rest at the weekend, waiting for your five weeks of holiday a year, then starting again. That model suits some people very well. But not everyone.

And I think part of the unease we see around us simply comes from there: some people are living a life that does not match at all what they deeply want.

They know it. But they carry on. Because changing is frightening. Because a fixed salary is reassuring. Because everyone around them works that way. And because human beings have a fairly incredible capacity to adapt, even to a situation they do not really like.

So, over time, you sometimes end up giving up part of what you really wanted in order to fall into line.

Falling into line is natural

I don't think there is some big organised conspiracy to turn us into employees. It is much simpler than that.

School teaches us to follow a path. The people around us generally encourage us to look for security. Find a trade. Get a good job. Earn a salary. Buy something. Build a stable life.

And again, there is nothing wrong with any of that. The problem only starts when you follow that path while deep down you know you want something else.

Because by living a life chosen by default, a gap opens up between what you do and what you would really like to do. And sometimes, stepping off the path once is enough to make it impossible to look at it the same way again.

At 20, I had a choice

Around the age of 20, I found myself facing a fairly enormous dilemma. I had a job offer at CERN.

On paper, it was probably the sensible choice. A prestigious environment. Solid professional experience. Something very good to put on a CV.

And on the other side… Going walking.

I chose to walk. I set off on the Camino de Santiago. Around 1,850 kilometres in 70 days.

When I think back, the reason was in the end very simple. I had one idea in my head: being on this Earth and feeling an extremely simple life.

Walking. Finding something to eat. Finding somewhere to sleep. Meeting people. Carrying on the next day.

There was almost nothing else to do. And precisely because of that, there was an enormous amount to live.

Coming back was much harder than leaving

When you walk for several weeks, your relationship to time changes completely. A day is no longer divided between work, commuting, notifications, obligations and appointments.

You wake up. You move forward. You look at what is around you. You talk to someone. You eat. You carry on.

Time becomes almost something physical again.

And when I came back, the contrast was violent. Going back to a normal life after living that simply made me understand something I had probably never put into words before: my time was worth far more to me than what I was willing to accept in exchange.

Time is undervalued

That is in the end the main reason why I no longer want to sell my time for money. Or at least, not in the classic way. Because to me, time is undervalued.

You can always earn more money. Lose money and get it back. Create a company. Change careers. Make a good investment. Make a bad investment.

But nobody knows how to get a year back. At 30, you cannot buy an extra year of being 25.

And yet we are willing to sell entire days for an amount we then sometimes spend simply to keep living comfortably enough to go back to work the next day.

I am not saying you should not work. I work. I start things. I build projects. And sometimes I probably work far more than someone with a classic job.

The difference is elsewhere. I want to choose what I use my time for.

I am not looking for the rich life

You will not find any promise here of becoming a millionaire at 25. No Lamborghini in front of a villa in Dubai. No fake method for working fifteen minutes a week from a beach. That is not what I am after.

I don't even particularly want to do nothing. Quite the opposite. I like creating. I like working on my projects. I like travelling. I like learning. I like meeting people.

What I want to avoid is being forced to sell the majority of my days simply to finance the rest of my life.

To me, real wealth probably starts there: being able to decide more of what you do with your time. Even if it means earning less. Even if it means living more simply. Even if it means more uncertainty.

Because between losing money and losing time, I now know which of the two scares me more.

Money can come back. Time, never.

And here, I don't want to sell you a rich lifestyle. I simply want to document what I am trying to build, what works, what fails, what it costs and what I learn along the way. Concrete things.

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