I was walking the concourse during a day game at work last week; the usual things were happening such as the noise, lights, and the usual controlled chaos. As I was standing in line for what seems an over priced hotdog, I caught a fragment of a conversation. A young guy, maybe early twenties, frustrated, saying he needed two jobs just to make rent. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just tired.

And it stuck with me.

Because I’ve heard that sentence before. I’ve said it, just with different numbers.

In my twenties, it wasn’t two jobs. It was three. Three kitchens, three schedules, three versions of me showing up half-awake and smelling like whatever the last shift left behind. I wasn’t chasing a dream. I was chasing the gap between what I earned and what life cost.

Back then, I told myself a story: this is temporary. This is what paying your dues feels and looks like. Grind now, stabilize later. One day, you grow up and the math will work.

That was the deal, right?

So hearing that kid, same frustration, same equation that doesn’t quite balance, I couldn’t help but wonder:

When did “temporary” become the business model?

There’s a moment, usually late at night, maybe over a cheap takeout meal or a drink that’s lost its edge, when you realize the rules have changed. The old script doesn’t work anymore. The idea that one job, one path, one steady climb is enough… it feels almost quaint now, like a rotary phone or dial up internet.

Welcome to the gig economy. Not the glossy, app-designed version they sell you. The real one. The one where stability is a rumor and flexibility comes with a price tag.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: most people don’t want a side gig. They need one.

Not because they’re chasing passion or trying to “optimize their hustle,” but because the math doesn’t add up anymore. Rent doesn’t care about your salary plateau. Groceries don’t respect your annual raise. Gas is slowly becoming a luxury just to get to work. Life, in its raw and unapologetic form, keeps sending the bill.

So you adapt.

You pick up something on the side. Maybe it’s freelancing. Maybe it’s driving, flipping, designing, consulting, whatever gets you across the gap between where you are and where you need to be. It’s not glamorous. Sometimes it’s not even enjoyable. But it’s yours.

And that matters more than people think.

I learned that early, before anyone dressed it up with words like “portfolio career” or “multiple income streams.” Back when it was just survival.

When I started cooking, I worked at three different places at the same time. Not because I was ambitious in some grand, strategic way, but because I couldn’t make ends meet otherwise. One kitchen bled into the next. Long shifts, quick turnarounds, different menus, different expectations. You learn fast or you get burned, sometimes literally.

The strange part? I thought it was normal.

I didn’t question it. I figured this was just what you did when you were starting out. Pay your dues. Grind it out. Keep your head down and trust that eventually, when you “grow up,” things would be different. Simpler. More stable. One job, one paycheck, enough.

It is different now, in some ways. The titles might be better. The kitchens, turned into a stable office job. The paychecks a little more predictable. But still have the side hustle. And I am not the only one, more people I work with have a side hustle just to survive in this area.

But the question lingers: why do so many people, even now, still need that second job? That extra stream? That late-night hustle after the “real” work is done?

Because the system didn’t evolve the way we thought it would.

Wages didn’t keep pace with reality. Stability became conditional. Companies got leaner, expectations got higher, and somehow the margin for error, the space where a single job could comfortably support a life, got thinner.

So the side gig didn’t disappear. It just followed us into adulthood.

That’s where the shift happens.

See, most people are taught to ask, “What job should I get?” But the better question is the one that actually changes your trajectory: “What can I offer?”

That’s purpose, stripped of the motivational posters and buzzwords. It’s not about finding something you love every second of the day. It’s about identifying where your skills, your interests, and the world’s needs intersect… and then doing something about it.

A side gig, at its best, isn’t just a financial patch. It’s a proving ground.

It teaches you things your day job won’t:

• How to deal with uncertainty when there’s no safety net
• How to sell, even when selling feels uncomfortable
• How to fail quietly, adjust, and try again without applause

It’s gritty. It’s inefficient. It’s real.

And yes, it’s exhausting.

There will be days when you question why you’re doing this at all. When the extra effort feels invisible. When you’re stretched thin and running on caffeine and stubbornness. That’s part of it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something.

But there’s also a different kind of reward, one that doesn’t show up immediately in your bank account.

It’s the realization that you’re not stuck.

That you can create options.

That you don’t have to wait for permission, a promotion, or a miracle.

You start to see the world differently. Problems look like opportunities. Skills become assets. Time becomes something you invest, not just spend.

And maybe, if you stick with it long enough, that side gig evolves. It grows teeth. It becomes something bigger. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it just stays what it is: a reliable second engine keeping your life moving forward.

That’s enough.

Because in this economy, resilience isn’t optional. It’s the baseline.

So no, needing a side gig isn’t a failure. It’s a response. A rational, grounded, clear-eyed response to the reality we’re living in.

You don’t have to romanticize it.

But you also shouldn’t underestimate what it can become.

I hope that kid figures it out and realizes that the fact that he is willing to have the side gig, the side hustle, is the very empowerment of his grit and that he is well on his way to embody his future self. Don’t sell yourself short, you are on your way!