Better Living Through Deprioritizing Money

Lemme say right off the bat that this blog post is written from a position of privilege. One might credibly argue tremendous privilege. I mean, if I were struggling financially and/or had all manner of financial obligations—for myself, for loved ones, and so on—I think reading the title of this blog post would make me want to punch the author in the face. Hard. That said, I hope to make an argument that even my impressively cynical self would (if begrudgingly) admit isn’t all wrong.

Trade-off deficit

As I’ve discussed many times in these here pages before, my job involves doing work for law firms. My main client is a firm that I used to work for. We’ll call that law firm “The Firm.” The Firm is pretty big and pulls no small amount in annual revenues. But it will never be confused with the Kirklands, Wachtells, Cravaths, Lathams, or MoFos of the world (Those names mean nothing to you? Look ‘em up. Your eyes may water when you see how much money these businesses you’ve never heard of rake in each year, and how profitable they are.) 

I earn a decent amount each year in my job. But my revenues from The Firm (I also pull in revenues from some other clients and from other work that I do) come out to about 60% of what my compensation would have been had I remained as an employee of the business (taking into account salary, health insurance, and 401(k) contributions from Firm X). I also used to work for another firm, which we’ll call Awful LLP. Had I stayed there as an employee, my compensation today would have been even higher than had I stayed at The Firm.  

I admit to wincing a little when I wrote that last paragraph. I mean, I just laid out how I could be making a lot more monies than I currently do. But there’s more to the story. 

My job right now essentially is a part-time gig. While it carries with it plenty of stress and work, I do have a lot of flexibility and more free time to do as I please than I would if I was a full-time employee. The monetary value of that free time and flexibility can’t be precisely quantified. But for me it ain’t nothing. It’s had the added benefit of allowing me to experience what it’s like to work part-time before actually FIREing. As working part-time is something I’m considering doing at some point post-FIRE, this experience has been invaluable. 

Also, The Firm is filled with many very good people (including the people I work most closely with). Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of people in The Firm I’ll be delighted to see the backside of. This is a law firm after all. But the number and percentage of decent people at The Firm is, I think, disproportionately high compared to other workplaces as I’ve experienced. And the stress—tho enough to prompt me to welcome my upcoming mic drop—is nowhere near what it’d be in so many other firms. This, too, is invaluable.

Also, though you will be forgiven for missing my subtle hint that Awful LLP was awful, Awful LLP was, in fact, awful. At least to the extent that I personally experienced it. So awful that I pretty much knew on day one on the job that it was an awful place, and on day two my hunch was confirmed. I’ve never dreaded going to work each day more than I did in that job. I was giddy to ultimately leave that place. Working at/for a business nowhere near as awful is worth an amount of dollars that can’t be quantified. But it’s yuuuge. 

So, yeah, I make much less money than I could. But I work part-time, have a lot of flexibility and free time, work mostly with good people, and earn a decent amount each year. Maybe I’d be able to have all this and make more if I pursued other opportunities. Perhaps. But that’s no given. I’ve had several good, or at least decent, jobs/work arrangements. But two or three awful ones. In my experience, it’s a crapshoot every time you start a new gig.

Regardless, I think the trade-off I’ve made—deprioritizing money in lieu of better work arrangements—has been well worth it. Not so worth it that I want to continue in this situation for another few decades. I mean, let’s not be silly. But worth it enough for the last few years and the next four months. 

Good move

Work isn’t the only place I’ve deprioritized money so as to live a better, happier life. Take our move to the Mountain West as another example.

When we decided to move, we didn’t have jobs lined up. Before I discovered FIRE, moving without first having jobs lined up would’ve been unthinkable. Fanciful. Crazy talk, in fact. I also knew that there was a real chance that it’d take a while to find new jobs and/or that we’d earn less in new jobs we secured in our new city. As it turned out, this turned out to be the case for The Missus. I also knew that our cost of living might be a little higher in our new city (as things turned out, it’s been a wash).

But I was completely comfortable with our decision and the potential adverse financial consequences. After all, in the Midwest, I was well compensated but pretty unhappy. In no small part because of the weather. But also, because while one can, if one squints, see the natural beauty of the Midwest, the beauty of the Mountain West smacks one’s eyes square on. Ditto for the opportunities to engage in outdoor activities, many of which are an impossibility in the Midwest. And the sunshine discrepancy between the two places is, well, as big as the sky itself. We’re also able to pick up at a moment’s notice (or at least with relatively short notice) and go for a mountain hike. Or a road-trip vacation in some of the most beautiful terrain on earth. Or take a long bike ride in the dead of winter. Value: simply unquantifiable. 

The house of the rising costs

This deprioritizing of money works in reverse, too. That is, by having less money to spend, certain things we might want aren’t on the table. So, we don’t even bother troubling our pretty little heads about having them. Take, for example, housing. 

Someone I worked with many years ago (we’ll call him Workaholic) has since gone on to a position where his income is quite substantial. I don’t know how much Workaholic earns each year, but I’d not be surprised if it’s over $1 million a year. His wife also earns a substantial income, by way of running her own small business. I recently discovered that this couple is selling their house in my old city. The house is in an extremely tony part of the city. And it’s beautiful. And about 3,000 sq. ft in size, not counting ample, beautiful, outdoor space. 

The place can be yours for a cool $3 million. 

For us, the monthly mortgage payments on the place (were one to put 20% down upon purchase) would be crazy high. So, too, would the property taxes. The former would be several hundred percent higher than our monthly rent payments, and the latter, alone, would be about 60% higher than our monthly rent payments. Yikes! And then there’s the expenses to tastefully furnish the place. And, of course, costs for annual upkeep, which has to amount to a small fortune.

As I’ve mentioned on this blog, we’re happy renters. And we love the house, neighborhood, and location in our city that we live in. Could or would we be happier in a different house, neighborhood, or part of the city? Possibly. Maybe even probably. But enough to spend what I estimate is eight times more on housing than we currently pay? Yeah, no. 

Ditto for me wanting the pressures and expectations that’d come with most jobs that’d pay enough to be able to afford such a place (were I earning enough passive income to cover the costs, however, that’d possibly be a different story). Workaholic works a ton of hours and travels (at least in the before-’rona times) a ton, which keeps him away from his wife and two kids. I know that Workaholic’s job is super demanding as well. I’ve little doubt that Workaholic and his wife can well afford the mortgage, taxes, and other expenses associated with the place they’re selling. But the point is that it doesn’t come without a substantial trade-off.  

So, buying a place like my former co-worker’s doesn’t even cross our mind. And happy campers are we about not even having to have considered spending money in what we’d consider suboptimal ways.

And in the end . . .

Five years ago, had you told me that I’d willingly forego jobs that paid the highest salary I could command, and many items we could afford, but that far exceed the price of equivalents that’d make us just as happy, I’d have thought you a little crazy. But that’s how it’s turned out, and my happiness level is too high to bring me down.