I suppose one needs to find the correct balance between work and … everything else.
At the moment 60 hours a week seems about right. And, you’d better believe I’m getting paid for every hour I work.
And that makes all the difference in the world.
I ran the student government-operated movie theater at MSU a couple years back. It was a lot of fun–but it paid a fixed (and miserly) stipend. And I did a damn fine job of it.
By the end of my year as director, I more doubled the theater’s revenue, relative to previous years. (The two years prior, the theater made $6000 and $4000, respectively. During my year, the theater made just shy of $12,000.) At the same time, I CUT operating expenses–in both relative and absolute terms. Despite tripling the number of weekly expenses, my operating expenses for the year came in ~$6,000 (20%) under budget.
Toward the end, though, my motivation flagged. After the first 600 hours, I would have earned my total stipend twice over at a dead-end $7/hour job. By the end of the year, my average hourly wage worked out out to something like $2.60 an hour.
And I burned out, hard. My love and excitement fueling the passionate intensity with which I took to the job gradually faded into an oblique sense of begrudging obligation. Which is a miserable thing to feel. My grades faltered. My mood soured. My motivation to do ANYTHING reached an all-time low.
Did I burn out because I worked too hard? Did I burn out after too many late and sleepless nights? Did I just run out of energy? I thought so, at the time.
But now I reject that conclusion. I didn’t burn out because I “worked too hard.” I didn’t overwork myself, and I didn’t “run out of energy.” I reject the idea that my energy is finite–that my productive capacity is limited.
I “burned out” because I gave too much–and received nothing in return.
Simply put, I received no reward for the work I did–aside from some measure of personal satisfaction and acknowledgment from my student government peers.
Maybe, for some people, that might be enough. But try buying a nice meal out with your sense of personal satisfaction. Try paying the bills with acknowledgment from your peers. Frankly, I earned some nice meals out. And I earned relief from the anxiety of making rent. But I didn’t get these things.
Economists are fond of saying that “incentives matter.” I realize, now, this applies to me, too. I’ve discovered that incentives matter–not just with respect to economic performance–but on a personal (maybe even psychological) level as well. Incentives matter–in terms of performance which, perhaps, is more closely linked to personal happiness than Alfred Marshall ever dared suggest.
Never again will I give my time away. Never again will I create value, and get nothing in return. If ever I give again–it will be only for the simple joy of giving. And I’ll only give if I receive joy in equal measure to the expense–be that my time, or my money.
There’s a shirt on Busted Tees that says “Volunteering: It Doesn’t Pay.” And that’s more true than I’ve realized. Volunteering drains you–and gives precious little in return.
(As a side note–the “joy of giving” requires some modicum “bounty”–that is, having more than you need. To volunteer, I need to have extra time–spare time. To enjoy giving gifts, I need to have extra money. I need to have enough money to cover my needs–and enough to buy gifts for myself, if I so choose. I’ve missed birthdays and holidays over the last six months–and unapologetically so. I’ve been borrowing against my future to pay rent and buy groceries. It’s hard to feel much joy in giving, not having money to spend on myself. Fortunately, that’s changing now.)
In short, I’m working 60 hours a week–and I’m thrilled. I’m in the thrall of being able to put my skills to productive use. I’m learning at an incredible pace–I can almost feel myself building human capital. I love it. And I’ll bet my bottom dollar that I never burn out again.
