The Part-Time Paradox: Of Side-Hustles, Study-Funds and the Perfect Swing

The modern workplace is starting to look a lot like a high-school cafeteria. On one side, you have Gen Z, confidently scrolling through their "side-hustle" apps while sipping oat milk lattes on a Tuesday afternoon. On the other side, you have the Gen X and early Millennial crowd—the "Load-Bearing Pillars" of the corporate world—clinging to their 40-hour workweeks like a life jacket in a storm of rising tuition costs and mortgage interest rates.

I recently stumbled upon an article that confirmed what I’ve been suspecting while watching my godson: nearly one in three Gen Zers, at least in Belgium) (the 15-to-29-year-old cohort) has ditched the traditional five-day grind for a part-time schedule. They call it "work-life balance." I call it "having the energy to actually enjoy your youth," but hey, semantics.

The Side-Hustle Symphony

It turns out that Gen Z isn't just sitting on the couch during their "off" days. Many of them are engaging in the "flex-job" phenomenon. They work 60% or 80% at a corporate gig to keep the lights on, then spend their Thursdays or Fridays chasing a passion project.

Take my godson, for example. We were catching up last Sunday when he casually mentioned he has every Thursday off. Is he visiting museums? Learning to knit? No. He’s running a courier service. It’s a brilliant move, really. It brings in extra cash, and because of the way tax brackets and "flex-job" incentives work, he gets to keep a significantly larger chunk of that change than he would if he just pulled overtime at a desk.

He gets to taste-test different careers while his bones still have the cartilage to handle a delivery route. Meanwhile, I’m over here approaching 50, wondering if I can get through a two-hour meeting without my lower back staging a formal protest.

The Consultant’s Curse (and the Double-Tuition Trap)

As I edge closer to that half-century mark, the idea of a four-day workweek sounds like a fever dream of bliss. I can see it now: a quiet morning, a second cup of coffee, and perhaps a walk that doesn't involve rushing to a client site.

But then reality, dressed in a suit and carrying a spreadsheet, knocks on the door.

In the world of consulting, "part-time" is often treated as a myth, like Bigfoot or a software project that finishes under budget. If you tell a client you’re only available 80% of the time, they don't see "balance"; they see a 20% gap in project delivery. And let’s be honest: I actually like what I do. There’s a certain professional pride in being the "fixer." Except for one previous assignment where the "culture match" was about as successful as putting a cat in a bathtub, I’ve always felt welcome everywhere I’ve worked. I’m good at my craft, and that satisfaction is a powerful drug.

But then there’s the math. Oh, the cruel, unrelenting math of a father.

1. The Mortgage: We still have five years left on the house. The bank, unfortunately, does not accept "Zen-like inner peace" as a form of monthly payment.

2. The Scholar Fund: I have two children. I want them to have every opportunity, but education isn't getting any cheaper. Depending on whether they stay home or move into a "kot" (student housing), we’re looking at a bill between €25,000 and €70,000 per child.

Suddenly, my €70,000 mental calculation doubled to a potential €140,000 Everest. I’m not just a "wage slave"; I’m the CEO of "Tuition Fund Inc." To avoid mortgaging their future, I remain a card-carrying member of the 100% club.
I really do believe that it is our responsability to give them opportunities, it is up to them what they will do with those chances given to them!

The "10% Trap" and the Dream of the Green

My wife and I have discussed it. We’ve fantasized about having one extra day off every two weeks—a "Golden Friday" where we could actually do something together. But my wife is currently pulling 9 to 10 hours a day. If she went down to 80%, I fear she would just cram 50 hours of work into 32. She’d end up working just as hard for less money, which isn't a "work-life balance"—it's just "bad-at-math lifestyle."

And let’s talk about the hidden costs of working 90%. It sounds like a small dip, but the ripple effect is a tidal wave: 10% less income, 10% less pension, and—strangely enough—10% fewer vacation days. It’s the ultimate irony: you work less to have more free time, but the system punishes you by taking away your "official" free time.

But if we did take that leap, we know exactly where you’d find us: The Golf Course.

Golf is the perfect antidote to a consultant’s brain. It requires focus, precision, and a total disregard for your email inbox. Instead of managing stakeholders, you’re managing your swing. Instead of analyzing risk, you’re analyzing the slope of the 18th green. It’s the only place where being "out of office" feels like a victory.

The Freelance Road Not Taken

About a decade ago, I flirted with the idea of becoming a freelancer. The siren song of flexibility was loud. But I realized that being a freelancer requires a specific set of "hustle" genes. You have to be a salesman and a networking butterfly. You have to build relationships and, more importantly, keep them warm. My "social battery" is more like a AA battery from a discount store—it works, but it drains fast in a room full of strangers.

Final Reflections

I look at Gen Z with a mix of envy and bewilderment. They’ve looked at the "work until you drop" model of their parents and decided to opt out early. They’ve realized that time is the only currency you can’t earn back.

I’ll get there eventually. Once the house is paid for and the kids have their diplomas in hand, you’ll find me at 80%, or maybe even 50%. But until then, I’ll be here, at my desk, fueled by professional pride, the love for my family, and the occasional weekend round of golf.

I’ll keep grinding for the kids, because their future is worth more than my Friday morning lie-in. But mark my words: the day that last tuition fee is paid, you won't find me in a meeting room. You’ll find me on the fairway, finally enjoying that work-life balance—one hole at a time and hopefully in a place where there is lots of sun!

Cheers,
Peter