I didn’t plan on joining the overemployed movement. It happened gradually, like how you don’t notice a pot of water starting to boil until it’s bubbling over. My first job as a content strategist paid well, but when my partner and I learned we were expecting, those dollar signs suddenly looked smaller.
The news of our baby’s arrival coincided with something less welcome – my company’s return-to-office mandate. Three days a week in-person, non-negotiable. I remember sitting in traffic that first Monday back, calculating childcare costs against my salary, feeling that familiar millennial anxiety creep in.
“We’re spending almost my entire paycheck just to have someone watch our baby while I work,” I told my partner that evening. The math wasn’t mathing, as the kids say. Something had to give.
That’s when I stumbled across a Reddit thread about people quietly working two remote jobs simultaneously. The comments section buzzed with stories of doubled incomes and reclaimed financial freedom. I was intrigued but skeptical. Could I really pull this off?
My second job search was strategic. I found a fully remote position with a startup that operated in a different time zone. Their team meetings happened during my lunch break. My calendar became my best friend, color-coded blocks creating invisible boundaries between my professional lives.
“I’ve never felt more productive,” confessed another overemployed parent I connected with online. “When you have limited time, you don’t waste it on office politics or hour-long meetings that could be emails.”
According to a recent survey by Financially Independent, nearly 18% of millennials with young children are quietly working multiple jobs to combat inflation and rising childcare costs. We’re not slackers – we’re survivors.
The juggling act isn’t without challenges. Some days I feel like I’m running a three-ring circus while sleep-deprived. There was that heart-stopping moment when I almost used the wrong company name during a video call. And the guilt – oh, the guilt of wondering if I’m shortchanging both employers.
But then I look at our savings account. For the first time since college graduation, the numbers are moving in the right direction. We’ve paid off my partner’s student loans. We’re building a real emergency fund. The financial anxiety that used to wake me at 3 a.m. has quieted.
“This arrangement won’t last forever,” I remind myself when things get overwhelming. “It’s a season, not a lifetime.” When our child starts school, or when remote work options shift again, I’ll reevaluate. For now, this is working – really working.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Companies pushing RTO policies to increase productivity inadvertently created the perfect conditions for workers like me to explore alternatives. When they limited our flexibility, we found it elsewhere.
I’m not advocating everyone try this approach. It requires organization, boundary-setting, and sometimes difficult ethical considerations about contractual obligations. But I understand why so many of my peers are quietly joining this movement.
Perhaps what we’re really seeking isn’t just more money, but the freedom to design lives that work for us and our families. In a world where traditional employment seems increasingly stacked against parents, we’re creating our own solutions, one calendar invite at a time.
What would it take for you to feel financially secure while raising a family today? The answer might surprise you – and your employer.
