If you're clocking out after 40 hours a week, Elon Musk has some bad news: that's why your name won't make it into the history books. The man who runs Tesla, SpaceX, X, and Neuralink doesn't believe world-changing work happens on a standard schedule—and he's got the Christmas Eve war stories to prove it.

Back in 2018, Musk responded to a Wall Street Journal piece highlighting Tesla as one of Silicon Valley's most sought-after employers. His take? Blunt as always: "There are way easier places to work, but nobody ever changed the world on 40 hours a week."

Naturally, that sparked some follow-up questions. When someone asked what the magic number actually is, Musk didn't hold back: "Varies per person, but about 80 sustained, peaking above 100 at times. Pain level increases exponentially above 80."

Then came the kicker: "If you love what you do, it (mostly) doesn't feel like work."

Christmas Eve Has a Different Meaning for Musk

This isn't just talk. Musk shared in 2021 that Tesla's make-or-break financing round—the one needed to actually pay employees—closed at 6 p.m. on Christmas Eve. "That was a crazy tough year," he wrote. Had the deal collapsed, employee paychecks would have bounced two days after Christmas. While most companies were winding down for the holidays, Musk was scrambling to keep Tesla alive.

Fast forward a couple years, and the pattern repeated. After acquiring Twitter and rebranding it to X, Musk faced a ballooning $100 million data center bill. According to Walter Isaacson's 2023 biography "Elon Musk," Musk ordered a massive server migration from Sacramento, California to Portland, Oregon. His team proposed a nine-month timeline. He gave them 90 days—and told anyone who couldn't deliver to submit their resignation.

When delays piled up, Musk didn't just send angry emails. He boarded a plane, diverted mid-flight to Sacramento, and showed up on Christmas Eve with a small crew of engineers and cousins from Tesla and SpaceX. Together, they tore up floor tiles with a pocket knife, crawled under server racks, and rewired electrical panels. Isaacson described the scene as peak recklessness. Musk called it getting things done.

Even Romance Gets the Musk Treatment

His personal life follows the same intensity. Isaacson's biography recounts how Musk once went barefoot into a snowstorm on Christmas Eve to find flowers for his then-wife Talulah Riley. He returned hours later, bleeding and frozen—but holding the bouquet. Romance, Musk-style, apparently involves frostbite.

Musk isn't just pushing his employees to work harder—he genuinely lives by this philosophy. Balance and rest aren't part of the equation. He believes this level of intensity is what it takes to change the world.

But Most People Aren't Chasing Breakthroughs

Here's the thing, though: most Americans aren't trying to colonize Mars or revolutionize transportation. They're trying to survive. According to Bureau of Labor Statistics data from September, roughly 8.8 million U.S. workers hold two or more jobs. For them, grinding beyond 40 hours isn't about disruption or legacy—it's about keeping the lights on.

Musk's work ethic is undeniably extreme, and it's delivered results that few can match. But his philosophy raises an important question: when does grinding stop being about passion and start being about necessity? For Musk, those 80-hour weeks come with equity, influence, and the chance to literally shape the future. For millions of others, those extra hours come with a second paycheck that barely covers rent.

Whether you see Musk's approach as inspirational or out of touch probably depends on which side of that equation you're on.