The brokeness of a 9 to 5
or is it the brokenness in our thinking?
For a long time, I had a nagging feeling that something is somewhat off with the concept of a 9 to 5.
For some people, it works — but for me, it just didn’t seem quite right.
Perhaps it has to do with my lower-middle-class upbringing, where money was always a subject of scarcity. There were times where we sat through power cuts because the bill had gone overdue and there were about three eggs in the fridge and nothing else.
Was it poverty? Who knows. I was a kid and my parents weren’t the greatest with money.
My mother worked from home at the time, unable to go into a 9 to 5 because the schedule would never work with school hours, which ended at 3:20pm. Sure, I was self-sufficient enough to get myself to school by the time I was 11, I was also a master at instant noodles and sandwich making — but I was still a kid and for that reason, my mother decided to work from home.
