The 89 people who work at Buffer, a company that makes social-media management tools, are used to having an unconventional employer. Everyone's salary, including the CEO's, is public. All employees work remotely; their only office closed down six years ago. And as a perk, Buffer pays for any books employees want to buy for themselves.
So perhaps it is unsurprising that last year, when the pandemic obliterated countless workers' work-life balance and mental health, Buffer responded in a way that few other companies did: It gave employees an extra day off each week, without reducing pay—an experiment that's still running a year later. "It has been such a godsend," Essence Muhammad, a customer-support agent at Buffer, told me.
Miraculously—or predictably, if you ask proponents of the four-day workweek—the company seemed to be getting the same amount of work done in less time. It had scaled back on meetings and social events, and employees increased the pace of their day. Nicole Miller, who works in human resources at Buffer, also cited "the principle of work expanding to the time you give it": When we have 40 hours of work a week, we find ways to work for 40 hours. Buffer might never go back to a five-day week.
[...] In 2018, Andrew Barnes approached the employees of his company, a New Zealand firm called Perpetual Guardian that manages wills, estates, and trusts, with an offer: If they could figure out how to get more done in a day, they could work one fewer day per week. In consultation with employees, the company installed lockers in which workers can voluntarily stash their phones for the day, and soundproofed meeting spaces to reduce the sound of ambient chatter. Meetings were shortened; employees started putting little flags in their pencil holders whenever they wanted to signal to coworkers that they didn't want to be disturbed. It worked: Perpetual Guardian's business didn't suffer, and the four-day workweek is still in place three years later.
[...] Natalie Nagele, the CEO of Wildbit, a small software company, introduced a four-day, 32-hour week in 2017, after reading about research indicating that the optimal amount of intense cognitive work is no more than four hours a day. (The four-day schedule even applies to Wildbit's customer-support team; their days off are staggered so they can respond to inquiries all week.) "I have this dream that knowledge workers can get to a point where we can clearly define what enough means," Nagele told me. "We don't do a good job of saying, 'This is done,' or 'I can put it away.'" She wonders if Wildbit's next schedule could be four six-hour days.
[...] Not all business leaders favored the change. "Any man demanding the forty hour week should be ashamed to claim citizenship in this great country," the chairman of the board of the Philadelphia Gear Works wrote shortly after Ford rolled out its new hours. "The men of our country are becoming a race of softies and mollycoddles." Less aggressive but just as resistant, the president of the National Association of Manufacturers, a trade group, wrote, "I am for everything that will make work happier but against everything that will further subordinate its importance."
(Score: 4, Insightful) by Thexalon on Tuesday June 22 2021, @09:04PM (1 child)
Counterpoint: A lot of jobs are completely useless and exist for basically bullshit reasons [strike.coop]. If you've ever worked in a larger corporation or non-profit, you will have no difficulty identifying a bunch of Wallys or Peter Gibbonses walking around who are accomplishing absolutely nothing but vaguely looking like they might be working. And no, that's not limited to government, because despite what a lot of libertarians seem to think private corporations are not even close to perfect models of efficiency.
The only thing that stops a bad guy with a compiler is a good guy with a compiler.
(Score: 2, Insightful) by khallow on Wednesday June 23 2021, @02:40AM
Notice how the whole service industry has become "bullshit". This ignores that a large part of it is effectively manufacture (such as the creation of valuable software to power all that hardware that has been manufactured). And that another large part of it is valuable support for the non-bullshit jobs (such as those administrators, HR, dog washers, all-night pizza delivery, etc).
Once the author has failed to understand the value of "bullshit" jobs, he then spins conspiracies about why they exist.
[...]
In other words, he's an idiot.
Now, we're doubling down on the idiocy. Nurses, garbage collectors, and mechanics get paid pretty well contrary to the narrative. And elimination of those otehr jobs would result in an unsubtle destruction of human organization down to the hovel level (private equity CEOs is a pretty big category of human organization, for example, even covering labor unions and non profits). You'd end up with those fantasy towns in RPGs that have a blacksmith, a farmer, a mayor, a bartender in an inn, etc with nobody having a clue what to do about these huge rats in the basement.
Here's another example of the cluelessness.
First, there is a massive number of artists out there. Just because a skilled indy band doesn't make it, doesn't mean that there's something wrong. What's ignored here is that the rock band market is vastly oversupplied. It just takes some cheap instruments and a garage to make a rock band. That's not hard to come by. Meanwhile our society supports a vast abundance of music. It's far less limited than the past.
The 1% envy is meaningless. Corporate lawyers contrary to assertion are valuable. That's why there are a fair number of them and they get paid a lot. And a ton of corporate lawyers has no impact on the supply of rock bands.
This is the sort of clueless rant that adds nothing. What are we supposed to do about these alleged bullshit jobs? Fire people? Mandate that only valuable work is done? Force people with the good jobs to share?