I’ve been a web designer for 30 years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that suits are for funerals and suckers. Me? I’ve made a tidy pile of cash from my couch, clad in flannel and spite, proving you don’t need a corner office to rake it in—just a Wi-Fi signal and a disdain for dress codes. Here’s a dryly triumphant rundown of my laziest lucrative gigs, plus some tips to turn your sweatpants into a business asset. Spoiler: it’s less about hustle porn and more about outsmarting the system.

First up, there was the “emergency redesign” racket. Picture this: it’s 2018, I’m halfway through a Netflix binge, and some panicked startup founder pings me because their DIY site looks like a Geocities reject. I fix it in three hours—two if you don’t count the nacho break—charge a premium for the “rush,” and bam, four figures in my PayPal before the credits roll. The trick? Let clients think they’re saving their own bacon while you’re just recycling a template you’ve had since 2005. Sweatpants status: unbuttoned, victorious.

Then there’s the “consulting call con.” I’d slap on a decent shirt—collar optional—crank up Zoom, and spend 45 minutes telling small biz owners their pop-ups are why nobody buys their artisanal soap. They nod, I nod, and $200 lands in my account while my cat naps on the keyboard. Pro tip: mute yourself during the inevitable “Wait, how do I share my screen?” fumbling—it’s free therapy. I’ve banked thousands over the years just nodding sagely from my recliner.

My favorite, though? The “passive plugin play.” Back in 2020, I hacked together a WordPress widget that auto-hides those GDPR cookie banners nobody reads. Took me a weekend, mostly fueled by leftover pizza, and I tossed it on a marketplace for $19 a pop. It’s not curing cancer, but it’s cleared me a cool five grand since—pure profit, zero effort, all while I’m horizontal. Want in? Find a niche annoyance, code a fix, and let the internet’s lazy masses pay you to snooze.

Here’s the real kicker: you don’t need to leave the couch to make this work. Three decades of web wrangling taught me that clients don’t care where you are—they just want results. I once closed a $5K gig during a power outage, hotspotting from my phone, feet up, in pajama bottoms older than my intern. The secret? Confidence, a half-decent portfolio, and knowing when to say “That’ll cost extra.” Suits? They’re for people who think boardrooms beat blankets.

So, how do you cash in from the cushions? Start small: fix a site, sell a tweak, or just tell someone their UX sucks for a fee. Price it like you mean it—nobody hires the cheapest guy in PJs. And if the cat walks across your webcam mid-pitch? Lean in. Call it authenticity. I’ve turned sweatpants into a six-figure side hustle without breaking a sweat—because after 30 years, I’ve earned the right to be lazy and loaded. Suits can suck it.