Flexible working hours: reflections on the four hour day

I read it, enjoyed it, thought it made a useful contribution to the discourse on what it is to fly solo, disagreed with it and, unfortunately, have not been able to get the thing out of my head since.

It made me question my own issue of ‘working hours’ and made me realise I have an issue with them.

I fly solo primarily because I can. It suits my loathing of rules and being told what to do, suits the nature of the work I do, suits my desire to be an involved mother and suits the fact that my energy levels and creative juices don’t acknowledge the 9 to 5 thing. I am writing this at 1.28 am because I feel like it.

I now see my working life in terms of before I read the article, and since.

Before, I talked incessantly about flexible work hours and working when I was moved to and that kind of nonsense (who realistically do I think is interested?) I really did work flexibly across the week and very much not 9 to 5.

Importantly, I considered that I worked ‘full time’. I used those words proudly. I worked full time and got everything else done in and around that ‘full time’ commitment.

The four hour day concept jarred with my thinking as I saw it as using the same sort of corporate mindset that invents ideas and terminology like 9 to 5 and indeed, ‘full’ and ‘part time’ work.

I thought while a great idea, it was imposing a big business construct on doing our own thing simply by counting and working within specific hours. I also thought it changed the notion of the work commitment from full time to part time, whether or not that is its intention and perhaps more importantly whether or not that matters. But it seemed to matter to me and that’s why I kept thinking about it.

It led me to understand that I too was using a corporate construct – that of full time work – and applying it to my business.

Since reading the article (and I believe the author’s dame-hood is on the way), I have had a revelation that is likely my most significant mental shift in the nearly 10 years I have been flying solo.

I don’t work full time.

I don’t work eight hours a day and have weekends off. I don’t work part time either. I don’t have a regular starting time, nor finishing time even though I have experimented with all of those ideas.

Since the article, I know with clarity that I fly solo and no rules apply. I have a range of commitments to a range of people and I honour those. If I were counting hours, some weeks it would resemble over-the-top full time, others part, others like I’ve been stockpiling RDOs. There is no virtue in thinking about it as working ‘full time’ as if that somehow legitimises what I do.

I was conscious of how my work ethic would be perceived. "What’s flakier than working from home? Working from home part time!" I had in my mind some imagined nobility in the pursuit of balancing full time work with the challenges of full time mothering and a household to run.

Since the article and my subsequent inner struggle about hours, I have been liberated from the burden of full time work and have found a lot more time in my days and my week to do things other than work. I haven’t done any less actual work, I’ve just allowed myself to get up from my desk, doing more other stuff and less stuffing around.

I have never been more in control of my whole life. It feels great. We are talking major, permanent attitude shift here and it’s exciting.

How many hours do I work now? Doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant unless there is a time clock to punch. Do I work full time? Doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant to flying solo.

So thank you, the future Dame Weston. Your four hour day approach isn’t for me and nor is any other structure. But your beautiful, thought-stirring article challenged me to re-think my approach to how I live my life and what role work plays in it.

I am sure it helped others in the flying solo community too.