Money. It can’t buy you happiness, you know. Or love. It’s one of the earliest lessons we learn in life: that noble pauperdom beats evil wealth every time, and boo hiss to anyone who disagrees. But beyond song lyrics and storybooks is the issue so simple?
Since leaving my job to go freelance last year, I’ve discovered the almighty thrill of saying no. “Sorry, all booked up until after Christmas!” I’ve lied this month when jobs I didn’t fancy came my way. It’s a rare luxury to be able to turn down paid work when I’d rather be watching Netflix in the bath and mining all the green triangles from the Quality Street tin, and I cherish it. I might be furious with myself in January, when even the orange crèmes are gone and I’m living on baked beans to make the rent, but there it is. Happiness: 1, money: 0.
While this attitude means I probably won’t buy a flat until about 2063, self-employment has also forced me to become proactive about finance. I spend hours every week chasing invoices, which doesn’t come easily to someone who was brought up to believe that contentment trumps cash every time. But slowly I’m learning not to feel like Oliver Twist for wanting some more. There’s a special power in deciding what you’re worth and which jobs are worth it; one that many women discover too late, or not at all.
Earlier this year a study by Oxford University Careers Service found that women are 9% less likely than their male peers to have secured a graduate-level salary within six months of leaving university. Talking to friends who work across different industries, the reluctance to ask for pay rises is depressingly common. When (famous millionaire) Kate Winslet announced last month that discussing the gender pay gap was “vulgar”, it was incredibly frustrating but not shocking. Institutionalised sexism has an awful lot to answer for, but could we also be held back by the belief, deep down, that nothing good comes from chasing a fat pay cheque?
“With a high wage comes accountability and responsibilities, and inevitably you sell your life to an employer,” warns Sarah, 49, a senior civil servant who admits she hates her job. “I do incredibly long hours all over the country, and that makes achieving a work-life balance really hard.” Money wasn’t part of the appeal initially, but after 33 years it’s become a big factor in her reluctance to quit. “Separated and single by my mid-forties, now with my independence and a mortgage, it makes it hard to walk away,” she says.
Even science struggles to pick a side. Five years ago researchers at Princeton University found that happiness does increase along with our salaries, but only up to an income of just below £49,000 a year. Numerous studies suggest that the way we spend money, not the money itself, holds the key to true happiness, while Swiss economists Alois Stutzer and Bruno Frey calculated that we need a 40% pay rise to balance out the stress of a one-hour commute to work. The common theme seems to be that it’s time, not houses or handbags, that proves to be our most valuable commodity.
For my generation finding a balance is harder than ever because the goalposts keep moving. They’re acres from where they were in my parents’ day and yards from where they were even last year. We feel the shift every time someone at a party tells us the average London mortgage requires a six-figure salary, or each time I say “It’s fine, babies can just sleep in an empty drawer for the first year can’t they?” and laugh too loudly to be convincing.
Of course, if we have a career in the first place then we’re probably not talking about true poverty. Not the perpetual cruel, aching fear over how you’ll heat your home or feed your children – just pangs of panic every time the council tax is due, or friends want to split a restaurant bill. But even for those of us privileged enough to be in a job (and a job that we like) it’s still hard to romanticise an echoing overdraft.
Emily, 31, left her job as a teaching assistant for a better-paid role in a private school last year. “It matters to me so much more than I thought it would, mainly because I’m not stressed all the time about having no money,” she says. “Status anxiety is very real. I just don’t believe it’s possible to earn nothing and be super-happy, unless you have savings or a rich partner.”
One example of job satisfaction with this kind of financial safety net is Marie, 27, a radio plugger for a music PR company who earns half the amount her closest friends do. “I was lucky enough to receive some inheritance to buy a flat,” she explains. “I’d never be able to stay in this job otherwise. But I’ve been here six years, and not once have I woken up and not wanted to go to work. For that I’m extremely thankful.”
Maybe the real question isn’t “money or happiness” but when do the rewards of work no longer make up for the effort of earning them? High wages can be a motivator or a dictator, both the carrot and the stick. But for some people, excellent colleagues, a short commute or great perks can tip the balance just far enough.
As long as we face Monday morning feeling like we’re getting out more than we put in, then I think we’re probably golden.
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