I can get a job. I can make lattes at Starbucks, but can I get flexibility? Can I get my life when I want it? Can I turn off for a few hours, pull over in Santa Monica, and walk on The Promenade, the beach? Can I do what I want when and where I want to do it? My driver nods in his mirror, confident and assured. This is where we’re headed, he says. Flexibility. My time.