Maybe you've heard the term "quiet quitting." Or maybe you've quietly quit the internet, in which case you are well on your way to blissful self-actualization.

The premise is this: Working folks, fed up with toiling around-the-clock for pay that isn't keeping pace, are deciding to ... do less. "You're not outright quitting your job, but you're quitting the idea of going above and beyond," TikTok user zaidleppelin said in a viral video. "You are still performing your duties, but you are no longer subscribing to the hustle culture mentality that work has to be your life."

Doing the bare minimum is not a virgin concept; just ask my 11th grade Algebra 2 teacher. Homo sapiens have been lying low since the dawn of ancient lute-making. But this phrase has gotten traction because everything about American work life in the clarifying light of a pandemic is up for examination.

Do we work from home? Hybrid? Four days or five, part time or overtime? Standing? Walking on a treadmill? Bouncing on a yoga ball? Are we essential workers? What does essential mean? Hey, who ate my leftover fettuccine from Olive Garden?

Lots of variables here, lots of room for debate. Some have argued that doing exactly what you're paid for within the hours you're paid to do it is not quiet quitting, but rather, just ... work? And the rest is, like, abuse?

Ambition will always hinge on personality, too. We all know the plot of "Hamilton" by now. Alexander Hamilton was never going to quiet quit. Aaron Burr, meanwhile, was begging for chill time to watch "Gilmore Girls" with a pumpkin spice candle nearby, but that was not the revolutionary vibe.

Work is worth thinking about as Labor Day approaches. Yes, that's Monday. While some consumers think this holiday exists only for screaming deals on Maytag agitator top-load washers, there's more to it. The day celebrates the labor movement and trade unions, which advocate for better conditions, hours and pay. Fighting worker exploitation is very much the current revolutionary vibe.

Quiet quitting could use a reframing, though, an extension outside the office. The fetish of busyness seeps into every corner of modern life. We love to sigh and say, "I am so BUSY," because it is not that alluring to say, "I have a lot of free time and my blood pressure is finally in check."

Picture a world in which life is not so trammeled with invisible labor. Quiet quit the dishwasher twice a week. Guess what? No one will die. Quiet quit dinner by boldly proclaiming Honey Nut Cheerios night. Quiet quit seasonally themed bento boxes of carrot sticks and organic millet. Sometimes, lunch can be processed and beige.

Book club selections not hitting? Quiet quit the discussion and post up by the all-you-can-eat turkey pinwheels. Co-worker suggesting happy hour under the guise of asking you to join a subcommittee, any subcommittee? In this new world, subcommittees are out. Quietly do not go!

Margarita and taco festivals are fun, but every weekend does not need one. When did we start going to so many festivals? It's time to start taking kids back to Bank of America waiting rooms and funeral visitations, where they belong. It's time to relearn to be bored, to accept strange lollipops from bank tellers named Pam.

The pandemic gave us license to quiet-quit casual acquaintances who sop up precious Aaron Burr time. This goes triple for internet friends. Ask yourself, does this person bring me joy at all? Or is he waiting in the shadows to launch an aggressive thread with 14 collapsed comments?

This Labor Day, feel the freedom in disengaging. It will be fine to read about President Joe Biden's return to a campaign theme of "democracy in peril" on Thursday instead of Wednesday. Do nothing for a minute. Shh. Do you hear that? Right. Neither do I.

Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephhayes on Twitter or @stephrhayes on Instagram.

Photo credit: congerdesign at Pixabay