I thought this would be easy, or at the very least fun. I was wrong. The challenge? I had to spend a full 40-hour work week trying to make as much money as possible using my phone. Luckily, it didn’t have to be digital-only services. But if the gig couldn’t be found, booked, or managed from the palm of my hand, it didn’t count.
So I did what any normal person would do. I Googled “make money using my phone,” from the internet app on my Samsung Galaxy smartphone. Big mistake. Huge. Every result screamed the same ten words at me:
“Take paid surveys!”
“Freelance on Fiverr!”
“Flip stuff on Facebook!”
I signed up for Swagbucks, the top-recommended paid survey app, thinking I’d sit on my ass and cash out at the end of the week. Oh my god, I was so naive. In the end, I did figure out how to make nearly $340. But I had to get down and dirty, and not in the fun way.
Swagbucks Induced Rage
Paid surveys were a rage-inducing waste of time. I spent four soul-sucking hours trying to squeeze even a single dollar out of this app. I aimed for surveys offering 50+ Swagbucks. The biggest bang for my time, right?
Wrong. I was disqualified from every. single. one. Sometimes right away. Sometimes halfway through. Once, I got kicked out after 20 minutes, right before the payout screen. That one triggered me.
To tickle my brain, I tried playing MonopolyGO, one of the earning games inside the app. It promised big rewards for levelling up. Instead, it delivered pure chaos. My ADHD brain hated every second of that garish visual cacophony. And I made zero progress.
By the end of hour four, I had a headache and a pathetic 29 bonus Swagbucks I got for signing up. Just enough to keep the delusion alive.
Let’s do the math:
To cash out the minimum $10 to PayPal, I needed 830 Swagbucks. That means each one is worth $0.012. I earned $0 but was gifted 29 bonus Swagbucks, or $0.34, which is less than 9 pennies per hour. Four hours didn’t even get me a sad little $5 Amazon card.
I believe Swagbucks might actually be a form of psychological warfare. End rant.
Fiverr, Upwork, and Rover: The Pay & Pray Platforms
After Swagbucks murdered my will to live, I pivoted to the gig economy. Surely one of them would actually pay off, right? Right?
I created brand new profiles on Fiverr, Upwork, and Rover. That alone took nearly 3 hours. And doing it on my phone made me want to walk into traffic. The mobile interface wasn’t the issue. In my best Taylor Swift voice, “It’s me, hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.”
It took me forever to type anything without fat-fingering half the words, autocorrect was unhinged, and I kept accidentally closing the app and losing my work. But I pushed through, hopeful for some quick cash.
Fiverr: Now Featuring 90% Spam!
I had success on Fiverr back in 2021. It took about a month to get traction, but once I did, I landed consistent gigs, built a client base, and made decent money writing content. That’s actually how I got ‘discovered’ and became a pretty successful finance writer.
Fast forward to 2025? Welcome to hell.
I created a new profile with my husband’s email and profile pic, offering to “Humanize AI-generated content.” From the second I created that gig, my inbox was instantly flooded with spam. This didn’t happen to me back in 2021.
And as for quick cash? Oh, honey. No.
The marketplace is absurdly oversaturated. I was up against tens of thousands of people all selling the exact same service for rock-bottom prices. It was giving American Idol vibes, and I was William Hung.
To make any headway in the search results, I would need:
- Social proof (5-star reviews and past orders)
- Strategic keywords
- Scroll-stopping gig thumbnails
- Time
- And patience
So I resorted to what any smart hustler would do. I messaged an old client and asked if he would order my gig and give me an amazing 5-star review. I promised to pay him back. I really just wanted to hack the algorithm. He sent over some landing page copy, I spent an hour editing it, and he insisted I keep the money.
After Fiverr took its 20% cut, that left me with $4. His review didn’t even move the needle! My analytics stayed dead.
Oh, and he was charged a huge $5.44 service fee. No good deed goes unpunished.
Upwork Makes You Pay to Play
Upwork felt more professional until I realized I needed to pay real money to bid on jobs. Like, excuse me? I’m supposed to fork over $15 just to throw my hat in the ring for gigs I probably wouldn’t get? As a brand new seller with no social proof, I stood about a snowball’s chance in hell of landing a gig by the end of the week.
Immediately no.
Rover Had the Most Expensive Start Up Cost
This was the obviously the best choice for me. Or so I thought. I love dogs, I’ve walked many a pooch in my day, and I know lots of people willing to vouch for me. But nope.
First, they asked for at least three personal recommendations. I emailed six people. Then, immediately texted those people explaining what they needed to do. All agreed. Only one person followed through.
And that person was me. I was at my sister’s house, hijacked her email, and wrote a glowing review of myself. Genius, I know.
But then I hit a wall. Rover wanted me to pay $50 for a background check. I get it. People need to know their fur baby isn’t being walked by Michael Myers. But if you’re flat broke, paying $50 upfront just to access the platform is a big no from me.
I wouldn’t say digital platforms are a dead-end street, though. There’s definitely great income potential there. But it takes time and money upfront to get traction. If you need cash right now, major gig platforms are not it.
Then it Hit Me: Make Analog Great Again!
I was done with digital. I was sick of algorithms. I needed something AI couldn’t do. Something physical. It was time to get hot and dirty, literally. And in my own backyard, sort of.
I posted in my local Facebook mom group offering to walk dogs, pull weeds, mow lawns, you name it. I also tried my best not to look sketchy and desperate. The post was deleted after an hour by a salty Facebook mod. But not before two people DMed me about weeding gardens.
Pulling Weeds Was My Meal Ticket
The first garden belonged to Denarah B., and it was a nightmare. It was overgrown, full of rocks, and hiding massive spikey weeds that peeled my skin like a grape. I spent 9 hours over two days on that hellscape and earned $90. She was a sweetheart, though, so that helped.
Proof of payment.
Stacey W’s garden looked easier at first glance, but her plants were bougie and fragile. I had to weed around them like I was diffusing a bomb. That job took 5 hours, paid $50, and left me covered head to toe in dirt.
After three days of hard labour, I was in so much pain I could barely move. My legs were covered in bruises, my back was throbbing, and I was popping Advil like Skittles. So of course, that’s when Denarah referred me to her friend, and he booked me for a 3-hour weeding job.
Brenden J. had the easiest garden. No complaints, other than the obscene number of spiders that scared the sh-t out of me. In the middle of all the dirt and arachnids, I was also juggling dog walking gigs.
I think I prefer four legs over eight.
Dog Walking Was a Huge Relief
A day after my post was deleted, dog walking DMs started rolling in, which surprised me. First was Marley, a half-hour walk that earned me $15 and the sweet relief of standing upright.
Then came Cooper, booked for two walks. First, a half-hour walk, followed by an hour-long walk a few days later. I fetched $45.
Just when I thought my gigs were drying up, I was referred to another guy with a high-energy American Bully. Bubba needed three 1-hour walks, one per day for the next three days. I charged $90 total, but I had to drive out of town, racking up almost two hours of commuting on that gig alone.
Bubba was built like a linebacker on steroids, but he turned out to be the sweetest tank I’ve ever met. Still, after all that bending, stretching, walking, and sweating, I was so. over. it. I needed something less physical and, hopefully, closer to home.
Flipping on Facebook Marketplace
My knees were screaming. My bank account was weeping. Time to scroll. I turned to flipping free stuff on Facebook Marketplace. First, I stalked my local Buy Nothing groups, which are goldmines if you’re fast and prepared. I was neither of those things.
I have kids, distractions, and not enough hands. I missed out on a free IKEA POÄNG chair while I was measuring my SUV to ensure it would fit. Insert cry emoji here.
These things retail for $119! And it was in mint condition. But it was gone within minutes, only to reappear on Marketplace a few days later, listed for $45. I knew it was the same chair because of the ever-so-slight discoloration on the headrest. Snooze, you lose.
Clearly, I suck at this. So I made a “help me, I’m poor” post on my personal Facebook page asking for hand-me-down kids' clothes. These sell like hotcakes on Marketplace if they’re name brands in decent condition. I’ve never had a problem selling my kids' clothes on Facebook in the past.
My friend Tamika came through with six bags of clothes. It took me two hours to sort through everything, take nice pictures, and write two listing descriptions. The first bundle sold in less than two hours for $30, and I hand-delivered it to the buyer. The second bundle is still sitting here, listed for $40. * Cricket Noises *
The Final Tally After 40 Hours of Phone Hustling
Voila. After 40 hours, a bruised ego, and nearly an entire bottle of Advil, I have $339 to show for it. Looking at my chart, you may be wondering why I factored in travel.
Because time is a limited resource! I’ve got one kid home on summer break and another who needs to be picked up from daycare at 4 PM every day. So the time required to generate money dictates what I can and cannot do, and where.
I only had 40 hours to spare, and travelling was a huge time suck that snuck up on me. It was also a hidden tax on my earnings. That $90 dog-walking gig sounded great. But I spent nearly two hours just getting there and back. Suddenly, my hourly rate started looking like 2008 minimum wage. I earned a whopping $8.34 per hour because I forgot to consider the shoe leather costs and plan accordingly.
Based on my experience, in-person services were the real quick money-maker, despite the commuting. But it wasn’t as simple as tapping a screen. I needed some sticktoitivness, strong painkillers, and a banger Spotify playlist.
Now, excuse me while I go buy some kneepads to weed my own garden.
