Gen Z Balances Jobs And Side Hustles Daily

Five-to-Nine: How Gen Z Reclaims Time for Passions Beyond the Office

The alarm blares at 4:45am. Outside, the sky remains pitch-black, and the streets sit silent. Yet, for a growing number of Gen Z professionals, this ungodly hour marks the start of a fiercely guarded ritual: the “five-to-nine” routine. By 9am, when colleagues stumble into the office clutching lattes, these early risers have already ticked off gym sessions, side projects, and mindfulness practices. Meanwhile, their counterparts tackling the post-work “five-to-nine” slot—5pm to 9pm—swap happy hours for skill-building courses, creative ventures, or marathon meal-prep sessions. Across social media, this trend has exploded, with TikTok’s #5to9routine amassing 35 million views since late 2022. But what’s driving this obsession with optimising every waking minute? And is it sustainable?

The Rise of the Pre-Work Power Hours

For many, the answer lies in reclaiming agency. Take Elena Assimakopoulos, a 27-year-old Londoner who turned her 5am starts into a six-figure side hustle empire. After graduating in 2017, she juggled a fintech marketing role with selling books on Amazon and creating content for brands like Colgate. “Waking at 5am became non-negotiable,” she says. “I read that your brain enters its peak focus state 90 seconds after waking. So, I’d roll out of bed, splash water on my face, and dive straight into work.” By 2023, her side ventures generated over £100,000, allowing her to ditch the corporate ladder entirely.

Her story isn’t unique. A 2023 survey by Deloitte found that 46% of Gen Z workers globally rely on secondary income streams, up from 28% in 2020. Platforms like Etsy, Depop, and Fiverr have turned hobbies into revenue, but carving out time remains a hurdle. Hence, the appeal of slotting passion projects into pre-dawn hours. Still, the routine demands sacrifices. Assimakopoulos admits to a 9pm bedtime, missing late-night socials. “People joke I’m a grandma,” she laughs. “But when you’re building something, you prioritise.”

Wellness Meets Hustle Culture

The five-to-nine trend isn’t just about money. For many, it’s a rebellion against the soul-crushing grind of modern work. Anouska Shenn, founder of The Office Yoga Company, notes that post-pandemic return-to-office mandates have left younger workers feeling trapped. “During lockdowns, people tasted autonomy—flexible hours, midday walks, time for hobbies,” she explains. “Now, companies like Amazon and Goldman Sachs demand full office weeks. That whiplash fuels the desire to claw back personal time.”

Ironically, this rebellion often adopts the same rigid structure as corporate life. Pre-dawn routines mimic productivity hacks from Silicon Valley CEOs: Mark Zuckerberg’s 5am jogs, Michelle Obama’s sunrise workouts. Even Gwyneth Paltrow’s bizarre morning ritual—30-minute tongue scrapes, oil pulling, and transcendental meditation—has found its way into #5to9 TikToks. Yet, unlike traditional hustle culture, this trend merges productivity with self-care. A typical video might show a 25-year-old accountant deadlifting at 6am, followed by journaling and a green smoothie, all before logging into Slack.

Jordan Conrad, a psychotherapist specialising in workplace burnout, sees this as a coping mechanism. “When your job feels unfulfilling, pouring energy into pre-work passions creates a sense of control,” he says. A 2022 study in the Journal of Occupational Health Psychology supports this: employees who engaged in creative hobbies reported 34% higher job satisfaction. Still, Conrad warns against extremes. “Rigid schedules can become another source of stress. Balance is key.”

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The Dark Side of #RoutineTok

Not everyone thrives on 5am alarms. Ketki, a 24-year-old tech policy analyst, admits the trend leaves her feeling inadequate. “I’ll watch someone’s video of their perfect morning—yoga, coding classes, homemade breakfast—and think, ‘Why can’t I do that?’” she says. After graduating from a Russell Group university in 2022, she struggled to adapt to corporate life. “In uni, I had time for sports, friends, lazy Sundays. Now, I’m lucky if I microwave dinner before collapsing on the sofa.”

Her experience mirrors broader generational struggles. A 2023 Mental Health UK report found that 58% of 18–24-year-olds feel “constantly drained” by work, compared to 38% of over-55s. Meanwhile, the cost of living crisis forces many to monetise free time. “Side hustles aren’t optional anymore,” says Assimakopoulos. “Rent in London eats 60% of my friends’ salaries. You need extras to survive.”

This pressure breeds resentment. On TikTok, parodies of the five-to-nine trend rack up millions of likes. One viral clip shows a woman arriving home, screaming into a pillow, and eating cold pizza in the dark. Another features a bleary-eyed worker snoozing seven alarms before sprinting to the tube. “We need more honesty,” argues Ketki. “No one posts about missing the gym because they overslept or opting for Pret over meal prep. But that’s real life.”

Striking a Sustainable Balance

So, can the five-to-nine lifestyle work long-term? Shenn urges caution. “Wellness isn’t a checklist. If your morning routine feels like a second job, it’s counterproductive.” She recommends starting small: a 10-minute walk before work, batch-cooking twice a week. Assimakopoulos agrees. “I tell my followers to adjust alarms gradually—10 minutes earlier each day. And forgive yourself if you slip up.”

Science offers mixed insights. A 2021 study in Nature Communications linked early rising to better mental health, while a 2023 University of Oxford paper warned that chronic sleep deprivation—common among 5am risers—impairs cognitive function. The key, experts say, is aligning routines with natural chronotypes. Night owls forcing dawn workouts may sabotage their efforts.

Ultimately, the five-to-nine trend reflects a generation’s hunger for meaning beyond pay checks. Whether through pre-sunrise sprints or post-work pottery classes, Gen Z is redefining success—one stolen hour at a time.

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The AI Revolution in Job Hunting: A Double-Edged Sword

While Gen Zers hustle to reclaim personal time, another revolution quietly reshapes their professional lives: AI-driven job hunting. Take Federico Elia, a 23-year-old Italian software engineer who created AIHawk, a free tool automating LinkedIn applications. After graduating into a brutal job market in 2023, Elia designed the program to apply for 1,000 roles while he slept. By August 2024, his GitHub project had 20,000 users globally, with over 6,000 members in its Telegram support group.

The tool’s appeal lies in its efficiency. Users set filters for roles, upload CVs, and let AIHawk blast applications—sometimes 250 daily—while tweaking résumés to match job descriptions. Guilherme, a 28-year-old Brazilian laid off in 2022, applied to 500 jobs through AIHawk, landing six interviews. “Without it, I’d still be manually applying,” he says. Yet risks abound. Early versions inserted false qualifications into CVs, and LinkedIn’s terms prohibit automated applications. Tommi, a Mexico City freelancer, admits fearing account bans but says, “When rent’s due, you take risks.”

This desperation reflects a wider crisis. Despite a 3.7% UK unemployment rate in 2024, white-collar sectors like tech face hiring freezes. LinkedIn data shows IT role postings dropped 20% since 2018, while Deloitte reports 62% of graduates feel “chronically underemployed”. Consequently, tools like AIHawk and LazyApply (charging £99-£249 for mass applications) thrive. Anthony Ettinger, a Silicon Valley engineer laid off in 2023, used AIHawk while driving Uber shifts. “It’s survival,” he says.

The Paradox of “Productivity Theatre”

Ironically, as Gen Z automates job hunts, they’re also performing productivity—for themselves. The five-to-nine trend’s rise parallels what psychologists call “productivity theatre”: meticulously documenting achievements to prove self-worth. Dr Rebecca Harris, a behavioural scientist at UCL, links this to “hustle culture hangover”. “After years of ‘rise and grind’ messaging, young workers equate busyness with value,” she says. “Now, they’re directing that energy inward.”

TikTok brims with this performative diligence. A typical #5to9 video might show a 22-year-old consultant reviewing CFA notes at 6am, then editing her novel draft. Another features a barista practising coding after shifts. While inspiring, critics argue it glamorises burnout. “It’s just hustle culture in yoga pants,” says Mia Chen, founder of the Work-Life Balance Project. Her 2024 survey found 41% of five-to-nine adherents reported chronic fatigue, versus 29% of non-practitioners.

Still, proponents insist the trend fosters autonomy. Jordan Conrad, the psychotherapist, notes that structured routines combat the “void” left by rigid jobs. “When work feels meaningless, these rituals become anchors,” he says. Elena Assimakopoulos agrees: “My 5am hours are mine. No boss, no deadlines—just progress on my terms.”

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Corporate Pushback and the Flexibility Wars

Employers, meanwhile, send mixed signals. While JP Morgan and Goldman Sachs demand full office returns, others like Unilever and Salesforce adopt “choice boards” letting staff pick hybrid models. This divide fuels Gen Z’s time-reclamation ethos. “If companies won’t bend, we’ll build our own structures,” says Ravi Patel, a 26-year-old accountant running a candle-making Etsy shop before work.

The stakes are high. A 2024 Randstad report found 73% of Gen Z workers would quit jobs lacking flexibility. Yet, as AIHawk’s rise shows, many can’t afford to leave. Instead, they squeeze passions into mornings or evenings. Take Sophie Lewis, 25, a Bristol-based NHS nurse who paints commissions from 5am to 7am. “It’s exhausting,” she admits, “but patient loads doubled since COVID. Art keeps me sane.”

Employers increasingly notice this “shift”. Anouska Shenn’s corporate workshops now address “the five-to-nine effect”. “Companies realise burnt-out staff aren’t sustainable,” she says. Some, like Adobe, offer “passion project stipends” up to £500 annually. Others, like Accenture, host internal marketplaces for side hustles. Still, sceptics abound. “It’s a plaster on a bullet wound,” says Ketki. “Why not just shorten the workday?”

Generational Divides and the Myth of “Having It All”

Older generations often misunderstand the struggle. Baby boomers, who entered stable job markets, question the need for side hustles. “In my day, one job paid bills,” says Margaret, 63, a retired teacher. Gen Xers, sandwiched between crises, sympathise but cite different pressures. “We raised kids during recessions,” says Mark, 49. “Your ‘hustles’ were our second mortgages.”

Yet data reveals stark contrasts. Resolution Foundation research shows Gen Z earns 10% less than millennials did at their age, despite higher education costs. Meanwhile, soaring rents—up 16% UK-wide since 2020—force 55% of under-25s to side hustle, per NatWest. “It’s not about lattes or avocados,” says Assimakopoulos. “My generation is poorer. Hustling isn’t optional—it’s survival.”

This reality fuels the five-to-nine’s darker edge: the normalisation of overwork. “We’ve rebranded exhaustion as empowerment,” warns Dr Harris. Her team’s 2023 study found Gen Z sleeps 6.4 hours nightly, 45 minutes less than millennials. Chronic sleep loss, linked to heart disease and dementia, rarely features in aspirational TikToks.

The Role of AI in the Five-to-Nine Ecosystem

AI doesn’t just hunt jobs—it enables the hustle. Apps like Otter.ai transcribe meetings for later review, freeing evenings. Canva’s AI designer helps create Etsy listings during commutes. Even fitness apps leverage AI: Freeletics tailors 15-minute workouts to 5am risers. “Tech lets us cheat time,” says Omar Khan, a 24-year-old content creator using AI to edit videos during lunch breaks.

But reliance on AI risks homogenisation. When everyone uses similar tools, side hustles stagnate. “My Depop shop got buried under AI-generated listings,” says Priya, 22. Others, like Tommi, fear job markets flooded with AI-crafted CVs. “Soon, even bots will struggle to stand out,” he quips.

Still, innovators adapt. Elena Assimakopoulos now sells AI prompt bundles for aspiring entrepreneurs. “Automate the mundane,” her TikTok preaches, “so you can focus on creating.” It’s a mantra resonating with a generation determined to craft meaning—one automated task at a time.

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The Legacy of Lifestyle Design and Its Modern Evolution

The roots of the five-to-nine movement stretch back further than TikTok. In 2007, Tim Ferriss’s The 4-Hour Workweek popularised the idea of “lifestyle design”, urging readers to escape the 9-5 grind through automation and outsourcing. Laszlo Nadler, a New Jersey-based entrepreneur featured in Ferriss’s case studies, built a £2 million-a-year planner business, Tools4Wisdom, while prioritising family time. “The book made me question traditional work structures,” he says. “Why wait until retirement to live?”

Ferriss’s philosophy resonates today. A 2024 survey by Startup Genome found 38% of Gen Z entrepreneurs cite The 4-Hour Workweek as inspiration. Yet modern adaptations differ. Unlike Ferriss’s focus on passive income, Gen Z often blends hustles with activism or creativity. Take Ben and Camille Arneberg, a Texas couple who launched Willow & Everett, a homeware brand, after reading Ferriss. They outsourced manufacturing to China but infused products with eco-friendly materials—a nod to Gen Z’s values-driven ethos.

When Automation Meets Burnout

Not all Ferriss-inspired stories end triumphantly. Allen Walton, founder of SpyGuy Security, hit £1.9 million revenue by 2023 but later faced existential dread. “I’d wake at noon, check profits, and think, ‘Is this it?’” he admits. His experience mirrors Ferriss’s warning about the “void” after financial success. For Gen Z, this void often manifests earlier. A 2024 Mind survey found 52% of 18-24-year-olds with side hustles report burnout symptoms, compared to 33% of over-35s.

Psychotherapist Jordan Conrad links this to societal shifts. “Gen Z entered adulthood during crises: pandemics, climate anxiety, recessions. Hustling isn’t just about money—it’s about proving resilience.” This pressure fuels cycles of overwork. Even Ferriss acolytes like Jayson Gaignard, founder of MasterMindTalks, warn against glorifying busyness. “I kept my business small intentionally,” he says. “Growth ≠ fulfilment.”

Redefining Success in the Age of Hustle

The five-to-nine trend’s longevity hinges on rebalancing. Some, like Sol Orwell, co-founder of Examine.com, transition from automation to purpose. After selling his nutrition site for seven figures, Orwell now organises charity bake-offs raising £30,000 per event. “Money lets you choose what matters,” he says. Others, like Ketki, reject hustle entirely. “I deleted TikTok. Now I paint—badly—at 7pm. It’s chaos, but it’s mine.”

Employers are taking note. Companies like Buffer and Basecamp now offer “anti-productivity” perks: four-day weeks, meeting-free Fridays. Unilever’s 2024 pilot linking bonuses to team wellbeing (not output) saw a 22% drop in staff turnover. Anouska Shenn argues such shifts are inevitable. “Gen Z won’t tolerate burnout culture. They’ll vote with their feet—or their pre-dawn routines.”

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Conclusion: The Future of Time Reclamation

The five-to-nine phenomenon isn’t a passing trend—it’s a generational reckoning. As AI reshapes work and climate crises loom, Gen Z’s fixation on “stolen time” reflects deeper anxieties. Yet their solutions—rigid routines, side hustles, AI tools—carry contradictions. Automation breeds homogeneity; hustle culture masks systemic issues like stagnant wages.

The path forward lies in hybrid models. Elena Assimakopoulos now mentors freelancers, teaching them to “scale sustainably”. Platforms like Kickstarter democratise access to capital, while unions like the UK’s Independent Workers’ Union advocate for gig economy rights. Meanwhile, parody TikToks normalise imperfection, with creators like @CorporateBurnout gaining 1.2 million followers by filming “unproductive” evenings spent napping or baking frozen pizzas.

In the end, the five-to-nine movement’s true legacy may be its flexibility. Whether through 5am sprints or 9pm pottery classes, Gen Z is rewriting the rules—not to optimise every second, but to carve spaces where life, in all its messy glory, can thrive. As Ferriss wrote in 2007: “Focus on being productive instead of busy.” Seventeen years later, a generation is testing what that really means.