The term “gig economy” might sound like a Silicon Valley buzzword, but its roots go back much further: to the smoky jazz clubs in the 1940s. In 1941, musicians used the word to describe concerts they’d play for quick cash, hopping from club to club without long-term job security. It was spontaneous and more importantly, paid the bills. 

Over time, “gig” came to mean more than just music. It became the slang for any odd job that didn’t follow the standard 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. time frame. Any kind of side hustle was your best friend’s “latest gig.” Once the internet entered the picture, gig work went global. Platforms made it possible for anyone to learn a skill from coding to tutoring to graphic design without ever leaving home. What began as a way for artists to make ends meet became a worldwide labor model.

Then, COVID-19  took desk jobs out from under our feet. As more and more people got laid off, more took to side hustles. And why wouldn’t you? You do something you like and get paid for it. This adaptation was a great movement because it allowed people of all caste and creed – those who never had a shot at fame, or who had fallen past their glory days stage comebacks in a variety of ways.

Even people who had never considered themselves gig workers suddenly tried streaming, teaching online,  or freelancing in digital media. For multi-talented workers, this was a breakthrough. The rigid career boxes of the past gave way to flexibility and experimentation.

Indeed, it was admirable to see so many rising stars–not just old generation YouTubers like DanTDM and Ray WIlliam Johnson-seeing their viewers return. This freelancing was fueled by spaces like Twitch, Instagram Reels, and TikTok providing creators new outlets to share their interests.  Musicians like Juice WRLD, XXXTentacion, Bad Bunny, and more had breaks because of famous TikTok sounds. 

TikTok sounds can only be so famous without their trends, but during COVID, trends were everywhere. Being stuck at home meant people could delve into their old hobbies, be it crocheting, collecting cards, or playing videogames. Obviously, more demand led to people selling what they already had – a great initiative for both the people who want to get into a hobby, and the experts with too much stock on their hands. Thus, reselling platforms like eBay started to thrive.

However, every boom comes with its abusive opportunists. As everything suddenly became much more popular, some people realised they could buy things that are in high demand (say, the PS5), and resell them for anywhere from twice the price to 10 times it, with no intention of making competitive prices. All they cared about was profit; this action was dubbed scalping.

Scalpers flourished, snatching up gaming consoles, sneakers, and concert tickets to resell at punishing prices. We saw their antics with incidents like the PS5 prices and Pokémon cards’ popularity bump. The scalpers’ success was a reminder that not every side hustle contributes positively to the ecosystem. After the pandemic eased, its popularity endured, much to the disappointment of long-time enjoyers of these hobbies.

Scalping and content creation are but the tip of the gig iceberg, though. Given that during COVID times, people were (rightfully) afraid of going out to eat, let alone leaving their homes, UberEats and DoorDash rapidly gained popularity because food could be accessed with a couple of clicks, and minimal risk of going outside.

These changes stuck after COVID much more than anyone could have assumed they would: we see today that the aforementioned apps are staples in everyone’s phone, and for good reason, too. The fact that gigs grew to be such a vital yet not overbearing part of our lives encouraged people to pursue their hobbies and  their real aspirations – app creators could be app creators, etc.

Workers had tasted independence, and many were unwilling to return to a purely traditional 9 to 5 model. Changing away from the standard work clock wasn’t something that only workers did. Rather, some employers would also prefer freelanced workers over 9 to 5ers, because the freelancers provided cost savings, access to specialized or niche skills, scalability to meet fluctuating workloads, and the flexibility to hire on demand without long-term commitments or overheads like benefits and office space.

Now, however, a new challenge looms: artificial intelligence. Expert Ashley Lutz from Fortune.com estimates that bots generate more than half of all internet traffic. “Imperva, which issues a ‘‘Bad Bot report,” found that almost 50 percent of internet traffic comes from non-human sources,” Lutz said. 

The rise of AI-generated ‘slop’ — generic, low-quality content mass-produced by bots — clutters the digital space and threatens to undercut real freelancers. For those who built their livelihoods on gigs, online like DanTDM or real audiences that stuck with them like JuiceWrld,  it raises a pressing question: will human creativity be drowned out by algorithms?

Despite this uncertainty, I believe the gig economy remains a net positive. It rewards versatility and makes space for people with multiple skills to succeed. Being a jack of all trades is no longer a liability, it is an advantage. The danger lies not in the idea of gig work itself, but in allowing AI driven clutter to erode its value.

The lesson from jazz still applies. Gigs began as a way for musicians to improvise, adapt, and keep moving forward. That same flexible, resilient, and unapologetically human spirit is what makes the gig economy worth defending, even in an age of automation. Just like the old swinging jazz music, people today can bounce between anything and everything that brings themselves and others joy in a sustainable way.