The Time We Sell: Rethinking Work in the Age of AI
There’s a line from Justin Timberlake’s In Time that’s stuck with me lately—not because it’s a cinematic masterpiece, but because it feels eerily relevant. In the film, time is currency; run out of it, and you die. It’s a dystopian concept, sure, but when Prime Minister Anthony Albanese recently described workers as having ‘nothing to sell but their time,’ it hit differently. Personally, I think this phrasing is more than just a political soundbite. It’s a mirror held up to our modern working lives, and what it reflects is both fascinating and unsettling.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how it reframes the way we think about work. We’re not just selling our skills or our labor; we’re selling slices of our lives. In my opinion, this is where the bleakness sets in. Exchanging time for money isn’t new, but Albanese’s framing strips away the euphemisms. It’s not about completing tasks or contributing to a team—it’s a raw transaction. And that raises a deeper question: Are we comfortable with this trade?
One thing that immediately stands out is how this idea clashes with reality. Gig workers, for instance, don’t control the price of their time; it’s dictated by demand. Even for the rest of us, the boundaries between work and life have blurred. Emails at midnight, weekend calls—our time is no longer ours. From my perspective, this isn’t just about lower wages; it’s about losing agency over our lives. We’re not selling time; we’re surrendering it.
What many people don’t realize is how this dynamic exacerbates inequality. Nobel laureate Claudia Goldin points out that jobs rewarding constant availability disproportionately penalize women. Couples with children often default to the man working long hours while the woman steps back. This isn’t just a gender issue; it’s a societal one. If you take a step back and think about it, we’re essentially subsidizing a system that undervalues caregiving and perpetuates inequality.
This brings me to the push for shorter workweeks, which feels both nostalgic and revolutionary. Historian Sean Scalmer argues that reducing working hours has been a central fight in Australia’s history, often tied to broader social movements. Unions are now linking this to AI, suggesting that automation should free up time, not just boost profits. A detail that I find especially interesting is how this echoes the utopian vision in Abundance, where AI’s collective benefits are shared through shorter workweeks. But here’s the catch: as economic historian Trevor Jackson notes, achieving this would require redistribution on a scale we’ve never seen.
What this really suggests is that we’re at a crossroads. AI could either deepen inequality or become a tool for reclaiming time. Centre-left governments, including Albanese’s, are grappling with this. They’ve shown a willingness to redistribute money, but redistributing time? That’s a different beast. It’s not just about policy; it’s about reimagining what work means in a world where machines can do so much of it.
Personally, I’m skeptical that we’ll see a four-day workweek anytime soon. But what excites me is the conversation itself. It’s forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about how we value time, labor, and life. If we’re selling our time, shouldn’t we at least know what it’s worth? And shouldn’t we have a say in how it’s spent?
As Albanese prepares to speak on AI next week, I’ll be watching closely. Not for promises of economic growth, but for hints of a vision where time isn’t just something we sell—it’s something we own. Because if we don’t start asking these questions now, we might find ourselves living in a future that feels a lot like In Time—and that’s a future I’d rather avoid.
