Time is not money
You are never running out of time, you might be running out of sync
My 2.5-year-old recently asked me when her toy is getting delivered. I kept working on my laptop and replied, " It’ll take some time. To which she just laughed and asked, “What is time ?” And I just couldn’t explain to her what time is? I could see impatience on her face.
I kept thinking about it, not in a science-y way, but literally.
I found myself lost in small observations. Working on Saturday stings more than working on Wednesday, even if it’s the same amount of hours. Losing a Sunday to an emergency feels like it’s been stolen from me in a way that losing a Tuesday doesn’t.
Why? It’s the same amount of hours. Sixty minutes is sixty minutes. But Sunday hours just feel more precious. And I couldn’t shake why until I started thinking about time in a whole different way.
Why Time is not Money
We “spend” time. We “save” time. We “invest” time. We ask if something is “worth” our time. The whole attitude is like time is money. A resource you have a finite amount of, that runs out when you spend it, that you need to protect.
But time isn’t actually like money. Or gold. Or any of the other things we’re used to thinking about as resources.
Money is valuable even if everyone else doesn’t have it, infact it derives value from that. Gold in a vault is still gold. You can stockpile these things. They retain their value on their own.
Time doesn’t work that way.
Time, I’m beginning to realise, is a network resource.
The value of time isn’t intrinsic. It’s the value of the network of other people’s time that intersects with it.
Consider this. An hour when all the people you care about are available too is more valuable than an hour when all the people you care about are occupied. Not because the hour is different. Because the network is different.
That’s why weekends are so valuable. Not because Saturday is special. But because that’s when the network is accessible. Your friends are out. Your family is around. The city has a different vibe because everyone’s schedules overlap.
The overlap is what it’s worth. The hour is just a wrapper.
This way of thinking about time has helped me understand a lot of other things, too.
Why do people fear retirement even if they have enough money? Because you’re about to have all the time in the world, but the network will be shrinking. Best friend might still be working. Your relatives are occupied. Your kids have their own lives. Time is plentiful, but the network to spend it with is dwindling.
Why are long-distance relationships so tough, even with technology? Because you might have an hour to yourself, but not your partner. Or vice versa. The network doesn’t overlap much. You have tim,e but not shared time.
Why is unemployment so sucky even when you “should” be enjoying the freedom? Because your time is out of sync with everyone else’s. You’re free on a Tuesday afternoon. Nobody else is. The network has excluded you.
I have been through a few of the above situations, so I know what I am saying.
Out of sync! That’s the problem.
What about solitude?
What about spending time alone?
Some of the best times I’ve had are alone.
Reading. Thinking. Walking with no particular destination in mind.
Isn’t that evidence that time has value independent of the network?
I did think about this. And solitude is more complicated than it seems. Monks have spent ages answering this. I am just a middle-aged corporate employee. But I still keep taking shots at defining things from my lens.
Voluntary solitude, where you deliberately remove yourself from an available network, feels good. You’re taking a break from connection, not from the lack of it. The network is still there. You’re just taking a break from it.
Forced solitude, where the network isn’t even an option even if you want it, feels different. That’s loneliness. Same thing. Different context. Different experience altogether.
So even solitude could be a network phenomenon. Its quality depends on whether the network is in the background, waiting for you to return.
This is a tough spot for me to be in.
I hoard time. I protect my schedule. I’m leery of unnecessary commitments. I tell myself I’m being strategic. I’m protecting my most valuable resource.
But if time is a network resource, then hoarding it could be completely misguided.
You can’t bank on network value. An unused Saturday doesn’t carry over. The friend who was there last week may not be there next month. The time when your kids want to spend time with you is limited, and they don’t send out invitations.
In guarding my time so zealously, I may be preserving something that cannot be preserved. Optimising for the wrong thing. Viewing time as gold when it’s really more like a phone call. Valueless unless someone answers on the other end.
I keep returning to the weekend example because it’s so simple.
Suppose your boss asks you to put in eight extra hours. Option A: Work Saturday. Option B: work late Monday through Thursday, two hours each night.
People will choose Option B, which is the same eight hours. And people will not be able to articulate why. (everything else constant)
But if time is a network resource, it’s simple. Saturday hours are network hours. Everyone you know is in weekend mode. The opportunity for connection is at its peak.
Monday through Thursday evening hours? Lower network value. Some people are available, some aren’t. The alignment is partial.
By working Saturday, you’re not just losing eight hours. You’re losing eight hours at maximum network value. That’s the theft. That’s why it hurts so much.
This causes me to question how we measure wealth.
We measure money in absolute terms. If you have a million dollars, you have a million dollars. Doesn’t matter what anyone else has. (Well, it matters for status, but not for purchasing power per se.)
But if time is a network resource, then measuring it in absolute terms is foolish.
A person with a lot of free time but nobody to spend it with isn’t time-rich. They’re time-lonely. A person with limited free time but a highly aligned network may be time-wealthier even though they have less time.
The math of retirement is wrong because it measures hours but not the network. The math of productivity is wrong because it measures efficiency but not alignment. The math of work-life balance is wrong because it measures time as a quantity rather than a connection.
I don’t want to sentimentalise this into “time is only valuable with others.” That’s not quite right either. Because like time, you can’t hoard people. The network only gets its value from the people you want it to.
Sometimes, creative work requires being alone. Deep thinking requires being alone. Some of the most valuable uses of time are necessarily alone.
But even then, I wonder if the network isn’t still lurking in the background.
You write alone so that you can share what you wrote with others. You think alone so that you can bring the insight back to others. The alone time is a detour, not a destination. The network is still the end goal.
Maybe. I’m not sure about this part. This may be me taking the idea too far.
What I keep coming back to is the question of what you do with this?
Time when the people you want to be with are also available.
This might mean:
- Guarding network time more carefully than alone time. Not all hours are created equal. An hour when your whole family is available is worth five hours when they’re busy.
- Creating a life where your network intersects. Living in the same area as people you like. Having work schedules that overlap with the people you want to see. This is not just a matter of convenience. This is actually the mechanism by which time becomes valuable.
- Committing to things when the network is in place, even if you’re not up for it. Because the network won’t always be there. Alignment is the scarce resource, not time itself.
That Saturday, your boss wants to take? It’s not eight hours. It’s eight hours when the network is fully online, when the people you love are available, when the potential for connection is at its peak.
That’s what’s being stolen. Not time. Network time.
Out of time is not the problem; out of sync is.
This is such a beautiful perspective towards time. Really resonated with me a lot as I am going through a major shift in my life and I couldn't understand why it is stressing me out. But this network framework of time helps me to put so many pieces in place. The weekend example was a brilliant way of explaining this in an easy to understand manner!
Brilliant reframe on the netwrok value of time. That Saturday vs weekday work example is so good - I've felt that pain but never articulated why the same hours hurt differently. The retirement angle hit me too, becuase it's not about having time but having time synchronized with others. This completely changes how to think about scheduling and saying yes to things when people are actually available.