In today’s world, you’ve either got money or you got time. I only came to this realisation last year, when I was twenty-six. But what does that even mean? To either have money or time? Money’s easy. By money I mean cash—dollars, yen, dong—whatever allows you to buy things whether it be a week’s worth of groceries or a shiny red sports car. The reason money’s easier to understand is because in modern society, you either have it or you don’t. Money isn’t some metaphysical construct, it’s a physical—and increasingly electronic—means by which you can buy things. The more of it you have, the more things you can buy. Less money? Well, you know how that goes.
On the flip side, time’s more abstract. For one, while it’s not difficult to understand how you can either have more or less money, you might wonder how it’s possible for someone to have more or less time. Of course no one ever has more or less time in the literal sense. Everyone—whether man, woman, rich, poor, old, young—has the same 365 days in their year, 24 hours in their day, 60 minutes in their hour, and 60 seconds in their minute. How’s it possible then to have more or less of something that everyone, until death, has the same amount of? To explain that, consider what you actually spend your seconds, minutes, hours, and days doing.
For the majority of you, Mondays to Fridays are spent at work. You’re busy with all kinds of responsibilities that might leave you feeling tired, overwhelmed, and burnt out. Growing up in Tokyo, I witnessed the physical expression of these feelings on mornings when I took the train to school and afternoons riding it back. Salarymen, the term denoting a Japanese corporate businessperson, were always on the trains, and more often than not, were passed out or doing the thousand-yard stare. This left a lasting impression. I never wanted to be one of them. That wasn’t any kind of living. That was more like dying. Thankfully, however, even salarymen, like the majority of the working adult world, have days off. These tend to be on the weekend. It’s during these Saturdays and Sundays that these individuals might feel as if time slows down a little—as if they have more of it, at which point they can finally catch their breath and enjoy the day. This is what I mean by having more or less time. It’s more a feeling than anything, and while some might question the legitimacy of feelings, it’s difficult to deny the real sense people have of time being more plentiful in certain moments over others. Hours spent reading, gardening, going for a walk give you that feeling. As do slow mornings, vacations, conversations with loved ones—It’s a blissful ease, a freedom and control over life as a result of being able to do with your hours what you please.
I started thinking about this concept as a result of my move to Vietnam three years ago. Since arriving, I’ve been working as a part-time English teacher and freelance writer. Though total weekly working hours vary, they’re nowhere near the average of 40 hours/week that’s commonplace among people working nine to fives. As of writing this, I work weekends but I’ve got three weekdays off, and on the weekdays I work my shift only starts in the evening. What I’m trying to get at it is a very real sense of having more time since moving to Vietnam. I came with the purpose of having a job that would allow me to write more, which, since my move has resulted in freelance work with a number of companies, one novel finished and a second on the way, and, more recently, the start of District 0. Besides writing, the time I have allows me to have a social life, train jiu jitsu multiple times a week, weight lift at least twice, and at one point I was boxing as well—That was until I realised I was stretching myself thin. There’s only so much you can do with your time.
So, what about money then? I said you’ve either got time or money—Does that mean I have no money? Not necessarily. For someone living in Vietnam without a wife, kids, and all those other bills, I have more than enough. My first year in Saigon, I couldn’t believe how easy it was—for lack of a better word—to live here. I felt like I was using some video game cheat code that enabled me to live in a big, bustling city (depending on who you ask) and enjoy comfortable earnings without having to slave away. So in that case, what’s the either or about then? I said you either have money or time?
It was only in my second year that this dream of easy living somewhat faded. While I still make a good salary and I don’t have anyone to provide for, you start realising a few things. For one, eventually I’d like to start a family. At that point I can’t keep coasting with the work schedule I’ve got. I’ll have to sacrifice my time for the purpose of making money. Besides that, visits back to Tokyo seeing family and friends made me realise that while I make enough to live in Saigon, I don’t have an abundance of money in the same way some of them do. However, there’s a trade-off: when they tell me how much they work and talk about how tired they sometimes feel, is that money worth hustling for? I know I’m only asking that question because I feel a need to justify my decision to live in Saigon and work so casually. The reality is, you can’t help but compare yourself, even if comparison is the thief of joy. After all, most measure success based on money rather than how much time a person has, so when buddies I grew up with tell me they’re making x amount of hard-earned cash, I have to pause and think—What am I doing with my time? This is when the realisation really sunk in. You either got money or you got time. Some, unfortunately, have neither. Others, through luck or work, are blessed with both.
Once the realisation settled, I couldn’t help but wonder which was more valuable. Do people want more money or more time? In a way, this is something of a non-question. The natural answer is money and time, but again, not many are blessed with both. Besides that, as I wrote this essay I couldn’t help but ask myself why I even cared. People can want what they want. Leave them alone to their wanting. I guess what it comes down to is the fact that like I said, I feel a need to justify myself for not choosing money over time, for choosing the casual work weeks so I can do what I love in hopes that maybe, one day, this freedom will reap some monetary rewards too. Naturally, I consider time more valuable then. However, once again, most measure success with money, which would mean most of us believe it to be more valuable. The person with the shiny red sports car, white picket-fence house, who never has to worry about paying for the week’s groceries is always going to be deemed more successful over the one who can’t afford any of those things, even if the former’s constantly working and the latter has more free time. There’s no arguing with that logic. I’m not here to debate that fact with some hippy-dippy nonsense about how all those things are ephemeral, man, that they don’t actually belong to you. People need money and I believe a certain amount of money makes you happy as well, but what’s the point of money if you don’t even have the time to spend it? On the flip side, what’s the point of money if, like most people, you fall into the trap of always wanting more of it? With such an insatiable appetite you’ll never be satisfied. Time, on the other hand, can be spent on things money can’t buy. Hours with loved ones, hours doing what you love… More than that, there’s no such thing as actually getting more time in the same way that you can get more money. While you can feel as if you have more time, time is never anything more or less than time. It simply is.
At the end of the day, I’m not writing this to bash how people live their lives. It’s easy enough for me as a twenty-seven year old without many responsibilities to say I’d rather have more time than money. That choice itself is a luxury most people can’t afford. I’m also aware that I’ll likely have to give up time for money in the future, when responsibilities start piling and money becomes much more of a pressing need. I suppose that’s something of the natural trajectory of a person’s life. You go from having a lot of time when you’re young, less once you’re older and you need to work and make money, then, ironically, back to more time in your twilight years. As I move into this period of having to sacrifice time, I know it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Working, whether it be for twenty, forty, or sixty hours a week, can be especially fulfilling if you love your work and it supports yourself and those you love. Writing this essay, I suppose I was just trying to think this idea out. You either got money or you got time. Right now, living in Saigon, I’ve got more time. And I’m happy for that, happy for as long as it’ll last.
