"[T]here may simply be not enough important things to do to keep everyone busy."

More and more these past few years I think of a favorite old science fiction story by Frederik Pohl called "The Midas Plague."

All production is done by robots. Production has become so, uh, productive that humans spend all their effort just wearing out everything made by the robots. "Poor" people must live in giant mansions with several robots and wear out more stuff than "well-to-do" people, who live in small cottages with few to no robots and enjoy leisurely, intellectual and social pursuits. Comically (or tragically), it's illegal to get a robot to wear something out for you.

I think I'll reread it today.