Who wants a bet? It’s not a fair bet so you don’t have to pay me anything when I win.
The bet is this: that underwork is a far broader and more consequential problem than overwork. To win the bet, you have to support your case with evidence that compares the levels and impact of overwork with those of underwork in any major economy. (I told you it was unfair).
Overwork is a badge of honour. Even when you are working 80 hours a week, there is still a profound sense of pride in your contribution, in your employer’s need for you and your irreplaceability.
Underwork is a badge of shame. If you don’t have enough to do, it feels terrible. The hourly decisions you make about how to spend your time are personally demeaning and far more stressful than the pressure heaped on your overworked but more appreciated colleague down the corridor.And while overwork is over-reported (who has seriously never claimed to be busier than they are?) almost nobody reports underwork. Even without the fear that such candour could result in redundancy, it doesn’t do much for your sense of self worth to admit to making a negligible contribution to the shared enterprise.
So I’m afraid even if you’re the head of a governmental statistical body and show me irrefutable proof that I’m wrong, I’ll be asking you some unanswerable questions about how you measure underwork.And it’s the under-reporting of underwork that does the damage. What’s it costing your organization? Who knows?
And the moral of the story? Find a way to de-stigmatize underwork. When people who don’t have enough to do can proudly raise their hands and admit it, think how much more work your team can achieve. Think too of how much more fulfilled those lives will be. (You might even ease the burden of the 80 hours a week man down the corridor - but let’s not worry too much about him just now).