I Work in Hollywood: Everyone Who Once Produced TV is Now Covertly Developing AI.

Individuals who once felt restricted by their NDAs started to speak up. Helena, the moderator of the Mercor subreddit who avoids conflict, worked tirelessly to delete angry outbursts from disgruntled workers who relished naming the “secret projects”—a clear violation of the non-disclosure agreement every contractor must sign before becoming an Independent Contractor.

Meanwhile, on another project, Handsome Swede faced difficulties. Stricken by Covid, he informed his team leaders that he couldn’t meet the minimum weekly requirement and was promptly terminated. He re-entered the fray to seek out yet another project.

Wages were declining week after week. When I began browsing contractor jobs in early 2025, companies like Mercor, Handshake, Turing, Task-ify, and Outlier offered $150 an hour for “experts” and $35 to $75 an hour for “generalists.” Today, Mercor claims the average hourly rate on its platform is $105. However, during my searches at the start of 2026, experts were frequently earning $50 an hour, while entry-level workers were making as little as $16—below California’s minimum wage. Contracts were now dubbed “sprints.” The work needed to be completed urgently, often within 24 hours. The pressure was intense, self-important, and incredibly frustrating.

Burnout has driven many contractors to seek legal action. Several lawsuits allege that Mercor is improperly classifying its workers as independent contractors, highlighting that the job requirements—frequent onboarding, endless retraining, constant email and Slack checks, being on call at short notice, and maintaining a certain number of work hours weekly—indicate actual employment. Compared to regular employees, contractors face almost no workplace protections against erratic scheduling, excessive work hours, lack of breaks, or employer retaliation. This poses significant risks, especially if, like me, you’re exhausted by the nonsense and vocal about it. Loudly. Often.

Christmas day arrived. I hadn’t earned the extra $3-5K I had anticipated from Project Dead Language, and my bank balance lingered around $14. Steeped in existential dread and barely able to afford cereal, I accepted two separate invitations to work on a massive $16-an-hour project in its final stages. It involved several thousand annotators across various platforms working on monotonous tasks. The whole operation felt like a bustling, makeshift refugee camp, managing just enough to meet basic needs but not quite comfortable. I had already completed most of the onboarding requirements. The most crucial element, the materials stressed, is to connect on Slack.

I couldn’t find the Slack.

I called the Zoom helpline.

“Do you just hang out here all day?” I asked a faceless man while another video showed an elderly woman scrutinizing her camera, wearing a nasal cannula connected to an oxygen tank, with palm trees in the background. “Pretty much,” the faceless man replied. “I hope they compensate you well,” I said genuinely. “They don’t,” he replied, then informed me that I was already part of the Slack channel I’d awaited for two days, and that I had missed five critical onboarding quizzes in a document I hadn’t bothered to read.