Stop enjoying things

Monetise everything

I read a post last week about a bloke who makes miniature furniture.

Tiny chairs. Little tables. Proper detail work.

Someone in the comments asked if he sold them.

He said no, he just enjoys making them.

Three people told him he was “leaving money on the table.”

One suggested he start a Patreon.

Another said he should launch a course teaching others.

The last one told him to “stop being his own worst enemy.”

The man makes tiny chairs for fun and apparently he’s sabotaging himself.

This is where we are at. Every single thing you do for enjoyment needs a business model attached or you’re wasting your life.

Playing guitar? You should be on YouTube with a course called “Master Guitar in 90 Days (Without Reading Music).”

Baking sourdough? Get on Instagram. Film the process. Launch a subscription box. Partner with flour brands. Monetise the yeast.

Going for a run? Track it. Post it. Build an audience. Sell a running plan. Turn suffering into content.

You can’t just do things anymore. Everything has to be a side hustle or you’re a mug.

The goalposts have moved from “have a hobby” to “have a business that started as a hobby but is now causing you stress and destroying the thing you used to enjoy.”

I saw someone on LinkedIn say they “optimised their downtime.”

Their downtime.

They turned relaxation into a productivity metric.

They were learning Mandarin, building a website, and doing freelance consulting in the evenings. All while working full time.

Someone congratulated them in the comments for “playing the long game.”

Playing the long game toward what? A nervous breakdown?

The side hustle guilt is everywhere now. If you’re not building something on the side, you’re going nowhere. If you’re not monetising your passion, you’re lazy. If you’re watching telly without also recording a podcast about watching telly, you’re falling behind.

There are people on Instagram who can’t go on holiday without turning it into a “personal brand photoshoot.” They’re not on a beach, they’re “creating content in Bali.” The sunset isn’t beautiful, it’s “engagement bait.”

Every experience gets filtered through “how can I monetise this?”

Went for a walk? Write a thread about the benefits of walking for creativity. Tag it “entrepreneur mindset.”

Read a book? Do a 10-part carousel summarising it so other people don’t have to read it. Charge for the full notes.

Had a thought in the shower? That’s a LinkedIn post. That’s a newsletter. That’s a lead magnet for your course on having thoughts.

And if you’re not doing this, if you’re just living your life like some sort of peasant, you get the guilt.

“I should be doing more.”

“Everyone else is building something.”

“I’m wasting my potential sitting here watching Netflix.”

No you’re not. You’re just watching Netflix. That’s allowed.

But try telling that to the productivity cult. They’ve convinced everyone that rest is laziness and hobbies are just businesses you haven’t launched yet.

I saw a post from someone who said they “fired themselves as a client” because they weren’t “investing in their own growth.”

They were talking about stopping Netflix.

They fired themselves for watching Stranger Things.

The rhetoric around this stuff has gone completely unhinged. You’re not “playing small” because you didn’t turn your love of painting into an Etsy shop. You’re not “settling for mediocrity” because you didn’t write an ebook about your morning routine.

You’re just a person who likes painting and wakes up at a normal time.

But that doesn’t sell courses, does it?

The entire side hustle thing runs on making people feel shit for not doing enough. Every guru with a rented car and a ring light is out here telling you that your 9-5 is a trap and financial freedom is one funnel away.

Just quit your job. Launch the thing. Go all in.

(Also buy my course on going all in. It’s £1,997 but I’m offering a payment plan.)

They never mention that most side hustles make about £3 a month and cost you every evening and weekend you used to spend not hating your life.

They don’t tell you that “passive income” means spending 60 hours a week replying to Instagram DMs from people asking if your course is legit.

They definitely don’t mention that the only people making real money from side hustles are the ones selling courses about side hustles.

It’s a pyramid scheme where the product is anxiety.

And it works because everyone’s terrified of being left behind. If you’re not building, you’re dying. If you’re not monetising, you’re failing. If you’re not “leveraging your skills,” you’re just some idiot with skills.

I know someone who turned their love of running into a coaching business.

Now they hate running.

They spend more time on Canva making quote graphics about discipline than they do actually running. They’re up at 5am posting motivation content to an audience who are still asleep.

They used to just go for a run because it cleared their head.

Now it’s “content.”

Now it’s a “brand.”

Now it’s work.

That’s what happens when you monetise the thing you used to do to escape from work. You don’t have two income streams, you have two jobs. And one of them pays you nothing while demanding you perform for an algorithm.

But sure, you’re “building something.”

The saddest part is how many people are one viral post away from quitting their jobs to do this full time. They’ll see someone on LinkedIn say “I made £10k this month selling Notion templates” and think that’s normal.

It’s not.

That person either got lucky, is lying, or spent two years doing it for free before it worked.

But they won’t tell you that part because “I struggled for years and nearly gave up” doesn’t sell as well as “I replaced my salary in 90 days.”

So people keep quitting stable jobs to chase the dream.

And six months later they’re back on LinkedIn with a post about “my entrepreneurial journey” that’s really just code for “I’m skint and need employment.”

None of this is to say side projects are bad. If you want to build something, build it. If you want to try and make money from a thing you love, go for it.

But you don’t have to.

You’re allowed to just have hobbies.

You’re allowed to do things badly.

You’re allowed to spend your evenings doing absolutely nothing valuable and not feel guilty about it.

The tiny furniture bloke doesn’t need a business plan.

He’s fine.