How Gaming and Anime Binging Saved Me During My Darkest Days

Part 2: The Night I Almost Gave Up (And How My Son Saved Me Without Even Knowing)  

This is the part of my story I never planned on sharing. Honestly, I almost deleted this draft more times than I can count. But if even one person out there is where I was, then you need to read this.

If you read Part 1 of my story, you know how gaming and anime binging carried me through the storm of 2021. I lost my job, bills piled up, and with a baby on the way, rejection after rejection crushed me. Fortnite became my escape. Attack on Titan and One Piece became my fuel. I even leaned on a simple gaming chair and collected small anime figures as tiny lifelines to keep me moving forward.

But here’s the truth I didn’t tell you in Part 1—something darker. Something that almost ended my story before it could really begin

The Breaking Point

It was one of those nights when the silence felt heavier than the bills stacked on the table. Another “we regret to inform you” email had just lit up my phone. I stared at the screen, then at the dark ceiling above me.

And the thought hit: Maybe my family would be better off without me. Maybe if I unalived myself, they could at least claim something from death funds or pension.

It scared me how logical it sounded in the moment. Like maybe disappearing would be less painful than failing again. But then I heard it.

The Cry That Pulled Me Back

From the crib came the faintest sound—my son, just 2 months old, letting out a tiny cry. I walked over, picked him up, and held him against my chest.

That moment shattered everything. 

He was so small, so fragile, and yet in my arms he felt like the strongest anchor in the world. The truth hit me harder than any job rejection ever could: if I gave up, he’d never know me. He’d never laugh with me while we beat pixelated turtles on our retro console. He’d never sit beside me learning Mario’s jumps or Contra’s chaos.

If I left, his story would start with loss. And I couldn’t let that be his first chapter.

The Shift

That night didn’t magically erase the pain. I still drove Uber. I still faced rejection emails. But I kept going—because now it wasn’t just about me. It was about being there for him.

Every time I sat in my gaming chair, controller in hand, I reminded myself: losing isn’t the end. You respawn. You hit continue. You keep playing.

Every time I looked at my little shelf of anime figures, I reminded myself: every hero I admired fell, struggled, but stood back up again. Why should I be any different?

My son gave me the reason. Gaming and anime gave me the tools. Together, they kept me alive.

The Life Lesson

Here’s what I’ve learned: Sometimes we don’t survive for ourselves. Sometimes we survive because someone—maybe a tiny 2-month-old who can’t even say your name yet—needs us to.

So if you’re reading this, and you’re in that dark place thinking you don’t matter, let me be living proof: you do. You matter more than you’ll ever realize.

Because one day, someone—your child, your partner, even a stranger—might need your story to remind them to keep going.

For me, it was my son. He saved me without ever knowing. And now, every time we fire up that retro console, laughing at pixelated chaos, I know for sure: choosing to stay was the best decision I’ll ever make.

Game on, little man. For you, I’ll always hit continue.

How Gaming and Anime Binging Saved Me During My Darkest Days

I'm Skinnyhatchett, but online, I've got like a million different gamer tags. A few years back, during the whole crazy COVID thing in 2021, my life totally crashed. I lost my job, cash was super tight, and with a baby on the way, every no thanks email from jobs felt like a gut punch.

I'll be real—I thought about just giving up at one point. The feeling of letting my family down and just not being good enough almost did me in. But instead of just giving in, I found a weird way out: gaming and anime.

Fortnite, Escape, and a Whole New World

I totally remember the first night. Bills were stacked on the table, my girl was asleep, and I was just staring into the dark. Out of nowhere, I downloaded Fortnite. What started as just one quick game turned into hours of crazy fun, laughs, and—most of all—a break from all the stress. I wasn't Skinnyhatchett, the jobless soon-to-be dad. I was a player, building stuff, surviving, and laughing with random folks all over.

To make those late-night times a bit easier, I got a gaming chair. Nothing fancy, but sitting there, back comfy, keyboard and mouse, I felt like maybe I could make it through another day.

Anime Nights: Some Hope in Each Show

When I wasn't gaming, I watched anime. Shows like Attack on Titan and One Piece gave me something real life wasn't giving me at the time—hope. Watching characters mess up, fight hard, and get back up was huge for me. If Eren could keep going no matter what, why couldn't I?

I started grabbing little anime figures. Just plastic reminders to be brave and keep going, but when I saw them, they kept me pushing. They were more than just decorations—they were like anchors.

Driving Forward (For Real)

The money issues didn't just vanish. I still got turned down for jobs a ton, so I started driving for Uber. At first, it felt like I was failing—but soon I saw that the drives gave me time to think, to dream a bit. Between rides, I'd put on my headset, play some anime music, and just let it take me away. Little by little, I started to find a middle ground between just getting by and still finding some fun in life.

Being a Dad and Old-School Games

When my son came along, I knew I wanted to give him something good. Not the crummy feeling of being turned down, but the fun of playing and imagining stuff. I got a retro console, loaded with classics like Mario and Contra, and when he was old enough, we sat together laughing at those blocky turtles and crazy jumps.

Those times helped me heal more than any job offer ever could.

But Then Something Clicked…

Gaming and anime didn't just get me through it—they sparked something bigger. Something I never saw coming.

Because one night, while playing more Fortnite and watching more anime, I got an idea.

An idea that could change everything.

👉 And that’s where the real story starts… Stay tuned for Part 2.

Why I Handed My 4-Year-Old a Retro Console Instead of Fortnite (And Now He Won’t Let Me Stop Playing)

Alright, set the scene: my four-year-old’s got that wild-eyed look—like he just found buried treasure—halfway through a round of Super Mario Bros. He turns to me, dead serious, and goes, “Can I have my own Nintendo?” And bam, that’s when I realized I’d created a tiny gamer in my own image. Some parents are out here wringing their hands over screen time. Me? I’m raising a kid who thinks Goombas are public enemy number one.

Retro vs. Fortnite: Are You Kidding Me?

Everywhere I go, kids are glued to Fortnite, screaming into mics and busting out dances I can barely name. Fortnite is like a toddler hopped up on Pixy Stix—loud, messy, and just… too much for a four-year-old. Retro games, though? Man, they’re straightforward. Simple controls, bright colors, and challenges that actually require a little patience. No “build faster!” panic, just classic hop-n-bop fun.

Honestly, I want my son’s first gaming memories to be him giggling at pixelated turtles, not rage-quitting because some sweaty twelve-year-old just sniped him from across the planet.

Retro Games: The Gateway Drug To Good Gaming

Mario, Contra, Duck Hunt—these games are the real deal for beginners. No battle passes, no loot boxes, no “Dad, can I have your credit card?” nonsense. Just start the game and go. My kid has no idea what DLC even is. Let’s keep it that way for as long as humanly possible, please.

Instead of nagging me for V-Bucks, he’s begging to “beat the turtle guy.” That’s a parenting win if I’ve ever seen one.

Co-Op Couch Time: The Real Magic

The best part? He always wants me in the game. He grabs the controller, points at the screen, and says, “Show me how, Dad!” That’s not just parenting gold—that’s platinum. We’re not zoning out on separate screens. We’re battling through castles together, celebrating every ridiculous death, and somehow, in our house, Contra grenades have officially become “spicy meatballs.” (Don’t ask. Kids are weird.)

Cheap Thrills : The 602 Retro Games Console

Forget dropping a small fortune on a PS5 or some RGB monstrosity of a gaming PC. I grabbed one of those random “602 in 1” retro consoles, plugged it in, and boom—instant arcade. Thousands of games, no worries about strangers yelling at my kid online, and zero set-up stress. It’s parenting on easy mode, honestly.

Losing Like a Champ

You know what Fortnite doesn’t teach? Losing gracefully. My kid gets obliterated in Contra every 15 seconds, but instead of flipping out, he just shouts, “Do it again!” and jumps right back in. That’s the sweet spot. He’s not obsessed with winning—he’s here for the laughs, the chaos, and hanging out with me. If that isn’t a life lesson, I don’t know what is.

Passing Down the Controller: A Family Tradition

When I was his age, my dad handed me the controller and let me lose to Bowser a million times. Now it’s my turn to watch my son light up as we play together. Last night, he looked up in the middle of a level and goes, “Dad, I don’t need my own Nintendo. I just wanna play with you.”

Cue me, getting hit with the emotional uppercut. Didn’t see that coming.

The Bottom Line: Mario Wins, Hands Down

So while everyone else is busy flossing and screaming about Fortnite, I’ll be over here, teaching my son the Konami Code and cracking up about spicy meatballs. Gaming isn’t just about screens—it’s about connection. And for my money, retro gaming is where the best memories live.

Game on, little dude. Game on.

Teaching My 4-Year-Old to Game: Genius Move or Horrible Mistake?

Part 2: My Kid, the Button-Mashing Philosopher

 

So picture this: my four-year-old, eyes shimmering with that wild “I’ve discovered fire” look, just hit me with, “Can I get my own Nintendo?”

Honestly, I froze. You know in movies when the hero gets that thousand-yard stare, the orchestra swells, and you can practically see them doing existential math in their head? That was me—stuck mid-game, clutching a controller that’s probably seen more pizza grease than any actual cleaning product.

I mean, on the one hand, this kid just figured out how to jump over a pit in Mario without instantly face-planting. On the other, he now acts like gaming is a constitutional right. I made this monster. I handed him the keys to the Mushroom Kingdom, and now he wants the deed to the castle.

So, naturally, I panicked. Pulled the classic parent stall: “Let’s talk about that later.” Which, let’s be real, is code for “I gotta Google if letting you play Mario at age four will melt your brain.”

But here’s the kicker—he didn’t whine, didn’t flop on the floor, nothing. Just plopped down, grabbed the controller, and goes, “Let’s beat the turtle guy.”

It hit me right then—he wasn’t fiending for screen time. He was hooked on the vibe, the hanging out, the tag-teaming the chaos with me. This was less about pixels, more about partnership.

We dove back in, full turbo. He’d take Mario for a spin through the easy bits, I’d bail him out when things got spicy. We were an absolute unit—father and son, united by questionable plumbing skills and a mutual disregard for Goombas.

Cue plot twist: I fired up Contra. The old-school bullet bonanza that scarred a generation. Handed him the second controller and, in a low-key sacred moment, whispered the Konami Code. “Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start. Magic words, buddy. 30 lives. Boom.”

He looked at me like I’d just handed him the keys to the Matrix. And you know what? He held his own. Was he good? Absolutely not. The kid still thinks grenades are “spicy meatballs.” But he didn’t rage, didn’t sulk—just kept grinning, hitting continue, yelling, “Do it again!” after every digital demise.

That’s when it clicked. This wasn’t about the hardware. Or even the games. It was the play. The mayhem. The giggles. The weird, sacred ritual of passing down the controller—just like my dad did for me, letting me lose to Bowser until I could taste defeat in my sleep.

Eventually, we hit pause. He looks up, eyes still on fire, and says, “Dad, I don’t need my own Nintendo.”

I swear, I almost melted right there.

“I just wanna play with you.”

Cue emotional KO. I’m done. Wrecked.

So yeah, teaching a four-year-old to game? Galaxy-brain decision. Zero regrets.

Will I cap his screen time? Duh.
Will I lose it if he asks to stream on Twitch? You bet.
But right now?

We’re a co-op squad.
We’re storming castles.
We’ve got lives to burn.

Game on, little dude. 

Teaching My 4-Year-Old to Game: Genius Move or Horrible Mistake?

Part 1: Press Start to Cry (and Maybe Laugh a Lot)

 

 Alright, so picture this: I’m just chilling, trying to relive my childhood glory days with some classic Contra, and here comes my four-year-old. He’s got those big puppy-dog eyes, probably sticky hands, and that look like he’s about to ask for something.

“Can I try?”

Now, any sensible parent might’ve said, “Sorry, bud, this is one of those hard-as-nails games where even a pixel of a bullet sends you packing. You’re just not ready.” But nope—couldn’t help myself. Handed him the controller like I was passing on the family sword.

 Honestly, I was weirdly proud.

 

Let’s be clear: I wasn’t about to traumatize him with some modern nightmare like Elden Ring. I went with Mario and Contra, thinking “hey, these are old-school, they’ll be a breeze.” Ha! Yeah, no.

Mario? My kid ran straight into the first Goomba. Not once. Not twice. Four times. Like he was on a mission to hug the thing.  
Contra? Apparently, enemy bullets are collectibles now, because he jumped right into every single one. I’m over here, like, “No, bud, dodge the bullets!” And he’s all, “Why are they shooting me? I didn’t even do anything!” You know what? Fair point, kid. Welcome to the ‘80s, where games don’t care about your feelings—just pure chaos.

Then came the questions. So many questions.

    “Why isn’t that guy wearing a shirt?”
    “Why do mushrooms make you big?”
    “Can I shoot Luigi?”

(Luigi’s not even here, but sure, dream big, kid.)

Trying to explain “lives” in a video game to a four-year-old? Good luck. He’d lose one and look at me like I’d told him Santa moved to Mars. Then, out of nowhere:

“If Mario can come back, why can’t Grandma?”

Yeah. I almost unplugged everything and told him we were switching to board games forever.

But honestly? Watching him play was hilarious. He’d run, jump way too early, fall in a pit, and still shout, “I ALMOST MADE IT!” with this huge grin. I mean, the confidence is inspiring. Contra turned into a one-kid demolition derby—he mostly blew up himself, but he loved every second. He laughed so hard, I started laughing too. No one was winning, but it didn’t even matter.

We laughed, high-fived, and trash-talked pixel bosses like we were in some buddy cop movie. It was messy, chaotic, and just pure fun.

Then it happened. He hit me with the big one:

“Can I get my own Nintendo?”

So, did I just start him on the path to gaming greatness? Or am I raising a future sleep-deprived little gremlin who’ll call me “noob” before breakfast? Guess we’ll find out.

Stick around for part two—screen-time debates, existential questions, and how my four-year-old somehow finished Contra’s first level before I’d even had my coffee. This parenting thing is wild, man.

Hustles & Crisps: My Life Between TikToks and Trying to Pay Rent (Series)

My Forex Chart Analyzer Nearly Sent Me to the ER

 Part 3

“Build what you’ll use,” they said. So I did. Now I’m just wondering if I need therapy.” 

The Dream

Let’s rewind a sec.
You know that classic tech advice:
 

"Scratch your own itch. Build for yourself."

Honestly, after years of trading Forex, I figured out my real opponent isn’t the market—it’s me. One day I’m cool as ice, next day I’m yelling at my screen because a candle faked me out like a bad prank.

So, I thought, why not whip up something to take the emotions out of it? Just a chill little Expert Advisor (EA) to scan the chart, highlight trends, flag entries, and lay out take profits—like a buddy who never panics.

Sounds simple, right?

--- 

The Build

I called it ChartAnalyser (hey, at least it’s honest), and my big ideas were:

* Entry alerts, win-rate right there on the chart
* Buy/Sell lines so clear even I can’t mess them up
* Stop loss and take profit markers
* Oh, and reminders for missed trades—because apparently I like to torture myself

I went deep. Days and nights blurred together. At some point, I think I forgot what food was.

After weeks of tinkering, arguing with MT5, and running on pure caffeine—suddenly, it worked.

And for a few sweet hours, I felt like a wizard.

--- 

The Fall

And then—here comes The Trade.

The bot flashes: EURUSD long. Reversal confirmed. Structure broken. Signal’s looking pretty.
 

 “BUY with 78% win rate,” it says, all confident.

So I hit buy.

And… instead of going up, it just dips. And dips. And dips some more.

By the time the third candle dropped, I was sweating bullets. Staring at the screen, trying to Jedi-mind-trick the market. Meanwhile, the bot?

Chill as ever:

 “Hold.”

HOLD? Seriously?
It’s been 14 hours, I’m 42 pips down, and I’m about ready to throw my laptop out the window.

--- 

The Comeback

Then—out of nowhere—the market flips.
Shoots straight up.
Take profit hit. Big green line across my chart like a pat on the back from the universe.

I just leaned back, kind of dazed, but honestly… pretty relieved.

--- 

The Lesson

Building this thing taught me something I didn’t expect:
Turns out, I trust my own panic more than my bot’s logic.
Even with solid data, I’m still hovering over the Close button like it’s a game show buzzer.

The EA wasn’t the weak link.
I was.

All this fancy tech to kill emotions, and I’m still the emotional one in the room.

--- 

So, Was It Worth It?

Oh, 100%.
Here’s what I got:

✅ Front-row seat to my own impulsiveness
✅ Way more respect for rules-based trading
✅ A working EA—even though my laptop sounds like a blender
✅ Proof that I can build cool stuff, even on sketchy Wi-Fi

--- 

What I’d Change If I Could

* Add a panic override button (for me, not the bot)
* Alerts when drawdown gets wild, just to calm me down
* Built-in journaling, because let’s be real, I’ll never do it otherwise
* Maybe a feature where the bot ignores me if I try to mess with a trade mid-run

--- 

If You’re a Trader, Listen Up:

You can’t erase emotions. But you can build stuff to keep your head on straight—even when your instincts are screaming “RUN!”

Trust your data. Or don’t. But if you build your own tools, be ready to get humbled.

Because this bot?
It didn’t just read charts.

It read me.

--- 

Next Week:

Either I’m making a broke-friendly AI content app for African creators, or I’m taking up gardening. Depends how fried my brain gets. 

My Gaming Setup Is Ready. Too Bad the Internet Isn’t

From Zero to Hero—How 1 Mbps Became My Secret Weapon 

Part 2 

Okay, so things didn't just magically get better right away.

But slowly, they did.

My internet, which used to be a joke at 0.98 kbps, started to become more stable. Now, on bad days, I'd get a solid 1 Mbps – not enough to stream well, but enough to at least be online. And on good days? I'd get surprise 5 Mbps, which I didn't want to scare away.

But the real change? It was in me.

I stopped waiting for everything to be perfect because that wasn't happening. So, I just started building anyway.

Live streaming? Nope. But recording and editing? And uploading when the internet behaved? Totally doable. I went all in on that. I changed from live streams to offline gameplay and started posting on TikTok and Rumble. Nothing perfect or fancy—just real videos about gaming with bad internet, about the Botswana grind, and about not giving up.

And guess what? People got it.

They could see the struggle. They saw the passion. I wasn't just a gamer; I was speaking for people stuck in the same situation: low signal but big dreams.

My setup? Still going strong:

*   Ryzen 7 1700X
*   RX 5700 XT
*   Three monitors lighting up my small space

This machine was made to go all out, but my internet slowed me down. Instead of quitting, I found ways to make it work. I became a better editor, and I uploaded with planning. I turned not ideal condition into something valuable.

And I'm not stopping.

My next goal? Getting the AMD Ryzen 5 5500, the CPU I've always wanted. This would seriously improve how I work – faster rendering, smoother editing, and more room to create. I'm saving up little by little. Because just like my internet, progress comes and goes.

Funny thing is, the same internet I used to hate? It showed me how to hustle, how to change, and how to create something people would want to see when no one's watching yet.

So yeah, my streams still aren't full HD.

But my story is very clear.

If you want to help, you can send a tip to Paypal.me/buyme401 and help make that CPU dream happen.

Clicks, Hustles & Crisps: My Life Between TikToks and Trying to Pay Rent (Series)

How My Son’s Kindergarten Lunch Box Made Me Rethink My Whole Hustle 

PART 2

“It’s just lunch.” That’s what I mumbled at 6:12 AM, half awake, half functioning. Then I saw his little face and, man, everything changed. 

 

Alright, so, set the scene: Wednesday morning in Botswana. The house is kind of stirring, kettle’s doing its thing (maybe?), and I’m stumbling around in an ancient T-shirt that’s basically begging for retirement. My phone lights up—yep, TikTok wants me to spiral down the rabbit hole. I almost give in.

But nope. Not today. I’m focused, people. It’s my son’s first week at kindergarten, and guess who’s in charge of his lunch? This guy.

*cracks knuckles all dramatic* Time to deliver.

---

 The Lunchbox Game Plan

What’s on the menu? Only the finest:

- Leftover rice (if it doesn’t smell funky, it’s good to go, right?)
- Vienna sausages, cut diagonally—because, obviously, he’s fancy
- Boxed apple juice (we pretend it’s healthy)
- Banana (a little bruised, but hey, that’s extra flavor)

I seal up the box, feeling like the proudest dad on the block. My kid’s gonna open this thing and think, “Wow. Dad’s a legend.”

Yeah, keep dreaming.

---

 That Look, Though

So after school, I’m pumped. Time for my lunchbox victory lap. But I open it and… everything’s still there. Like, untouched. Not even a suspicious nibble.

I look at my son, and he just shrugs, totally unbothered.

> “I told you I don’t like rice with sausage. I like sandwiches. Like my friends.”

Oof. That one hit harder than my morning coffee. My “Dad of the Year” trophy? Instantly imaginary.

---

 It Was Never About the Sandwich

Let’s be honest: it’s not about the sandwich. It’s about being the kind of dad he actually needs.

Between hustling for cash online, making goofy TikToks, chasing affiliate links, and pretending I understand AI, I totally missed the memo on what my son really wanted. Apparently, I’m supposed to be a lunch whisperer now, too.

None of my online “success” mattered in that kitchen. My boy just wanted a lunch that made him feel seen, like he belonged. And, yeah, I missed that. Big time.

---

Fatherhood: Not a One-Click Upgrade

Here’s the secret those “get rich before 30” gurus won’t tell you: sometimes, the best thing you can give your kid is just being there. Not some passive income stream or viral meme.

I was so busy ticking boxes and hustling for the future, I forgot to check in with the present. To him, that lunchbox wasn’t just food—it was proof I’d been thinking about him.

---

 The Comeback

So, the next day? I went classic: sandwich, peanut butter, basic bread. No wild experiments, no bananas in sight.

He comes home, lunchbox empty, grinning.
 

 “That was perfect. Thanks, Papa.”

Look, I’ve never made a cent online that felt as good as that.

---

Stuff That Actually Matters

- Hustle hard, but don’t forget who you’re hustling for.
- Kids? Brutally honest. Get ready for it.
- Chasing dreams is cool, but remember to ask, “What makes you feel loved?”
- Not all rewards are cash. Sometimes it’s a happy kid and a sticky juice box.

---

 Next Week:

Tried out AI for Forex trading. Spoiler alert: The bot almost broke me—and my sleep. That story’s coming up.

My Gaming Setup Is Ready. Too Bad the Internet Isn’t (Series)

The Gamer's Dream Hits a Wall—My Awesome PC vs. the Terrible Wi-Fi

Part 1 

Building my gaming PC felt like a dream come true, no joke. I didn't just grab whatever was on the shelf. I spent ages researching parts, saving every penny, and waiting for the best deals. I ended up with a Ryzen 7 1700X. It’s a solid mid-range CPU that I thought would handle anything I threw at it. I paired that with an RX 5700 XT graphics card, which I heard was great for high frame rates without costing a fortune. I threw in 16 gigs of RAM to keep everything running smoothly.

Storage-wise, I went all out. A 260GB SSD for the operating system made things boot up super fast. Then, a 500GB NVMe drive just for my games. I wasn't taking any chances there. And the monitors? Three of them! I set them up like a cockpit so I could really get into the game, whether I was playing an RPG, streaming, or just keeping up with chat and stats.

I had this whole thing planned out in my head. Hours spent streaming, talking to viewers, building a community. I saw myself as more than just a gamer. I wanted to be a content creator that people knew.

But here's the reality: I haven’t streamed even once. Not even a little bit! I couldn't even get started.

The reason? The internet, of course.

Out here in Botswana, good internet is not easy to find. Some days, it felt like I was trying to catch smoke. On the worst days, my internet speed would drop to 0.98kbps. Seriously, it was slower than watching paint dry!

On good days—if you could even call them that—it might hit 1 megabit per second. And if I was really lucky, and no one else was using the internet, I might see 5 Mbps. Still super slow for any kind of decent streaming.

My gaming PC could handle anything. It was a beast. But the internet? That was the problem. It was holding everything back.

I’d turn on my PC, start up the streaming software, and just stare at the loading icon. Or the buffering symbol. Or even worse, the Connection Lost message. Lag would kick me out of games and stop me from talking with anyone, totally stopping me from building the community I wanted. It was super annoying.

I kept wondering, how did things get to this point? How could I have all this power in my PC, but be held back by something you can't even see?

Was it my fault? Was I expecting too much? Was my dream too big for where I live?

Every loading wheel was like a reminder that my dream was only halfway real. The internet was preventing me from doing what I wanted to do.

 

If you enjoy my content and want to support my journey, feel free to donate at paypal.me/buyme401. Thank you!

Clicks, Hustles & Crisps: My Life Between TikToks and Trying to Pay Rent (Series)

I Signed Up for 5 ‘Lazy’ Money Apps in One Night—Here’s What Happened by Morning

 

Tuesday, 11:47 PM. 

The house was quiet. My son was finally asleep, my wife had tapped out after one too many TikToks, and I was staring at the couch’s dusty outline, phone in one hand, leftover chips in the other, and the thought of money trickling in while I lie flat was too loud to ignore. No boss. No meetings. Just a light glow and the soft crunch of a chip, the fantasy of passive income draping over me like a blanket.

At precisely 11:47, I tossed the crumbs aside, opened a new tab, and typed the sacred query: "lazy ways to make money online."

The rabbit hole opened wider than my son’s mouth during a tantrum.

---

The Setup: My Arsenal of Hustle

Before I walk you through the neon bait I clicked on, here’s the war room I was working with:

Phone: Android, mid-range, screen slightly cracked at the corner like my patience  
Internet: Three bars if the moon was in the right position, courtesy of an overworked mobile hotspot  
Wallet: Empty. Emotionally and financially  
Mindset: Desperate but slightly drunk on ambition  

I needed apps that wouldn’t ask me to be a genius, just to be here. I wanted no quizzes, no resumes, no long reach-for-the-sky lectures. I wanted to quietly glow green while I scrubbed the kitchen or half-listened to a podcast. I wanted programs that wouldn’t judge me for dad life, TikTok life, or being broke life.  

So I chose five, scrolled fast, and hit download.

---  
 

1. Honeygain – “Share your internet and we’ll slip you pocket change.”**  

I loved the vibe. Let the app run, slip my wallet loose, and rack up dollars overnight. Internet calories burned, profit earned.  

I was in.  

Reality:

* Downloaded.  

* Logged my debut hour: earned 0.01 USD.  

* Home Wi-Fi turned into molasses.  

* Junior’s YouTube ate its own buffering tail on Cocomelon.  

* Spouse narrowed eyes and pointed. Fair.  

Verdict:

Yes, the meter ticks. No, the speed sinks. If your download’s already wheezing up the stairs, steer clear. Sweet gig for fiber folks. Meantime, I’m on starry-eyed wish lists.  

---  

2. TimeBucks – “Watch junk, fill in boxes, pretend you’re working.”**  

They promised I could pocket change for scrolling memes, so I dropped the click like I was launching a crypto coin.  

Reality: 

* Home screen flashed like a 2009 time capsule.  

* Surveys either timed out or rerouted me to “Get a green card, amigo.”  

* Ad views spat out 0.002 cents like a vending machine on a diet.  

* Longest purse I ever carried: 40 minutes for 10 cents.  

Verdict:  

It’s real, but the clock ticks louder than the payout. Filling a pool with a teaspoon? I’m already soggy.

Better suited for insomniacs or anyone who wants to feel productive while actually stalling.

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3. Swagbucks – “Do stuff you already do and earn points!”**

This one looked promising. I already shop, search, and fill out surveys when I’m stalling on bigger tasks.

Reality:

* Got booted from surveys for being “too exotic” apparently. Never knew Botswana was a deal-breaker.

* Points feel like Monopoly money. I can’t tell if I’m winning.

* Most offers assume you pay for delivery from Kentucky.

Verdict:

Unless your VPN can convince the Internet you’re sipping sweet tea stateside, you’re better off scrolling your feed.

Swag, sure. Bucks, nowhere near enough.

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4. ClipClaps – “Watch funny videos and earn.”

Think TikTok, but the algorithm occasionally hands you quarters. I’m here for it.

Reality:

* App is surprisingly good. I already want to adopt the duck with sunglasses.

* Coins pour in like a good meme, then slam the brakes like a distant text bubble.

* Random wheel spins and slot mini-games feel like they want my soul.

* Cash out is turtle speed unless you can make a small army of friends use your link.

Verdict:

Great for noise while I fold laundry. Okay for pocket change if you’re chill. Amazing if you can turn your whole group chat into a referral machine.

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5. Remotasks – “AI needs humans to teach it. Get paid to be that human.”**

Couldn’t resist that line. Teach machines to know what they’re staring at? Seemed as easy as breathing.  

Reality:  

* Onboarding went longer than they bragged; every “quick” video added another twenty minutes.  

* The task tracker looked like a spaceship control panel.  

* I clicked so many tiny boxes that the edges of my vision dimmed.  

* Pay per task is decent, but it takes a metric ton of clicking to see it.  

Verdict:  

Definitely not “money for nothing.” You’re trading hours for data points.  

Still, it sharpens your eye for detail, and it’s a baby step into the freelancing jungle.  

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By 4AM...  

I was wedged between yesterday’s pizza and the cat, eyes like crust, swapping screen light for cold, dark light.  

Final check: earnings across all five platforms?  
 

$0.61 USD.  

Couldn’t buy a cup of coffee.  

But it felt like the first raindrop before the storm.

 So, What Would I Actually Recommend?

If you’re in Botswana, stuck on a cheap data plan, and want a little side hustle that won’t eat your bandwidth:  

✅ Honeygain (provided you can snag a solid, uncapped Wi-Fi connection)

✅ ClipClaps—it’s goofy, it’s brief, and it’ll throw coins your way

✅ Remotasks—it’s actual work, but it can pay decent if you’re focused

Skip: TimeBucks unless you’re killing time in the waiting room. Swagbucks is a dead end if you’re not in the U.S.  

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What I Learned  

* You’ll never find pure passive income unless you’re the Wi-Fi landlord, and I’m not.
* Apps often forget that Africa exists—play with them, don’t treat them like gospel.  
* Your time is a currency. $0.10 for an hour isn’t lazy money; it’s a pay cut in disguise.  

At least I’ve got a short-list of time-wasters I can delete.  

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Next Week:  

I’ll try to stuff a lunchbox my son will actually eat—and discover I’m packing the wrong stuff, again.