The Four-Hour Workweek (for the Woman Who Works 164)

Have you noticed that the majority of “productivity hacks” and business wisdom literature is written by men? Yes, Tim Ferriss, I’m looking at you and your army of four-hour-workweek disciples. And all the other ambitious guys who’ve figured out how to batch their email, hack their to-do lists, and delegate their way to greatness — usually while someone else keeps the rest of life quietly humming in the background.

Meanwhile, we’re managing what might be the most complex, high-stakes startups in existence: our families. We’re running HR, logistics, health & safety, conflict resolution, and catering — often while trying to keep an actual business alive. So Tim, this one’s for you. An homage. A remix. A reality check.

1. Focus

Tim tells us to define and eliminate. Great. I define three things I must get done today. I jot them down on a sticky note — because full sentences require cognitive real estate I no longer own. Meanwhile, 127 other tasks swirl in my brain: pediatrician appointments, finding the one missing shoe, and acting as emotional support mammal for everyone under 5 feet tall.

I apply Parkinson’s Law — tasks expand to fill the time available — by giving myself a tight 22-minute window between a kid’s dentist appointment and another’s school pick up. It’s either wildly efficient... or a spectacular failure. Either way, I’m moving the needle. (On what, I no longer remember.)

2. Pareto Who?

The 80/20 Rule sounds great until you realize you’re living in a 20/80 reality. You give 80% of your effort to tasks that net you 20% return — and that’s on a good day. You cancel a career-defining meeting to make dinner, only to be told by your teen that she no longer eats pasta "because it feels weird."

You could’ve been a world-dominating CEO by now — if only it weren’t for swim practice and the gastrointestinal politics of your household.

3. Outsource

Tim suggests outsourcing low-impact tasks. Cute.

I outsource self-care by watching Instagram reels of people on yoga retreats in Costa Rica. I delegate mindfulness to my friend Melissa, who reads Brene Brown and texts me takeaways.

There’s not much to automate when you’re raising kids and building something from scratch. My current spa day is 20 minutes alone in the car with a bag of chips and silence. Deeply restorative. No robes, no eucalyptus, just the sound of nothing and the knowledge that no one can find me for a few minutes.

4. Liberate

Congratulations — you’re already location-independent. Your car is your office, snack station, therapy couch, and mobile command center. You take Zoom calls with a toddler in the back seat, answer emails at red lights (don’t @ me), and use voice ChatGPT to brainstorm product ideas while stuck on the Beltway.

If this isn’t digital nomadism, I don’t know what is.

5. Carpe Diem

Tim says don’t wait for retirement — design a life you don’t need to escape from. I agree. At this rate, retirement might just be a nap I get to take when I’m 70.

So yes, I seize the day. Even if that day includes blowouts (the toddler kind), tech issues, and explaining to a skeptical middle schooler why knitting in bed for 12 hours is not a valid career aspiration.

6. Mini-Retire

In Ferriss-world, you take months off to travel or learn Italian. In my world, I step away from work every 10 minutes — to drive someone to soccer, make dinner, or negotiate peace between siblings. I retire to the car. I retire to the shower — where at least one child will find me anyway, usually to demand a snack or explain a sibling injustice.

Designing my life with multiple retirements looks like: a podcast in my ears, a door locked (hopefully), and the deep, abiding hope that no one needs me for the next nine minutes.

7. Be the New Rich

According to Ferriss, being "rich" means having time and freedom, not just money. Well. I have no time, little money, and the freedom to be pulled in 43 directions at once. But I’m damn good at crisis triage and I run a tighter operation than most startups.

If wealth is about living intentionally, then maybe I am rich — just in a very emotionally-taxed, under-slept, gloriously chaotic way.

8. Escape

Escape the 9-to-5? Already did. I work 5-to-9, then again from 10:30-to-midnight, plus weekends, holidays, and during medical check-ups. I’ve developed a new productivity method: it's like the Pomodoro technique, but with more crying (mine and the kids) and less tomato imagery. The “9-to-5” was never designed for women who do this much. So we’ve outgrown it. We work when we can, how we can, and somehow keep everything afloat. That’s not chaos — that’s strategy.

9. Fear-Setting

Here’s where Ferriss really shines: fear-setting. The idea is to name your fears and plan around them. My fear is that I’m failing at everything, all the time, while existential career questions whisper to me at 1 a.m.

So be it if my kids turn out fine but weird, my startup limps along for years, and I end up writing an irreverent Substack post about productivity hacks for women who haven’t had a proper nap since 2009.

Could be worse.

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Tim Ferriss says life is for living now. Cool. Meanwhile, we’re out here already living it — just with a granola bar welded to our shirt and three carpool shifts to go.

So, here’s to you — the 164-hour-a-week woman with a business in one hand and a juice box in the other. You’re not just hacking productivity. You’re redefining it and doing a damn good job of it.

(P.S. If you made it this far, congrats—you’re basically my co-founder now.)

Hit reply and tell me, what’s the weirdest place you’ve taken a work call?

(For those of you who are wondering where the hell my Dream Box went, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten it. I’m working on changing the format a little so it’s more accessible. Watch out for it in the next issue.)