How rich friends make you feel poor
Why do we find it so hard to admit to a friend -- somebody who knows and accepts us -- that we live with financial constraints? Also: Ideas for handling the problem next time.
By MP Dunleavey
When I made plans to get together with a friend recently, money didn't enter the equation.
We had decided to splurge on some sort of beauty treatment together. (Guy readers: Imagine tickets to a great ballgame.) I suggested getting facials; she said she would do anything.
But when I called to book the treatments, I learned a facial would cost more than $100. Rather than saying so, I told my girlfriend I had a cold and suggested we get pedicures instead.
Well, I did have a cold. But I was also unwilling to spend 1/13th of my mortgage on my face. So why didn't I just say that?
I have friends who earn more than I do, friends who earn less. By and large, financial issues remain on the fringes of my relationships.
Except, of course, when money tension sneaks in and ruins a really good time, which is what happened in this case. Why does this happen?
Lesson 1: Money tension builds from small acts of dishonesty.
First of all, I have several girlfriends who out-earn me, including this pedicure pal. She knows it. I know it. So what was I trying to hide?
In the salon, we splurged on $40 pedicures, which was fine; I was still within my mental budget. Until the manicurist "offered" us a supplemental lemon-verbena foot scrub.
(I love how these places "offer" you some deluxe add-on, as if you won't have to pay for it. Ahahaha.)
Once again, instead of being frank and saying, "No, thanks, this pedicure is expensive enough," I shrugged and looked at my friend, who shrugged and looked at me, and somehow that turned into "Sure, go ahead."
Lesson 2: You hurt only yourself.
Now I was furious with myself, irritated with Ms. Lemon Verbena and dreading the final bill. And guess what?
That dollop of lotion cost an extra $20. Twenty dollars. I could have bought five bottles of lotion!
I almost had a cow. But I was still trying to keep up appearances, so I played it cool.
That's because we had plans for dinner at a pricey place next door, which I had picked based on my mental budget and now felt obliged to stick with even though my mental budget was whimpering in a corner.
Then, another awkward moment: At the end of dinner, my girlfriend offered to treat me for my birthday. The only trouble was that my birthday had been three months earlier, so now I worried that she made this gesture because she'd heard my inner calculator go SPROING.
When you can't enjoy a friend's thoughtfulness, you know you have a problem.
Lesson 3: Maybe it's not them, it's you.
What I realize in hindsight: Money tension may seem to exist between you and someone else, but it's really your own private problem.
It wasn't my pal's fault that:
- I wasn't honest.
- I didn't communicate clearly.
- I let my agitated state drive me to make choices that were outside my financial comfort zone, my values and my budget.
If I were to do the whole thing over again, I would have said at the start: "Hey, I don't want to spring for a facial. Let's get pedicures."
Being clear about my financial state at the outset would later have allowed me to issue a confident "no, thanks" when Ms. Lemon Verbena came around. I also would have felt more comfortable making a reasonable choice about dinner.
Was the underlying tension that my friend's income was so much greater than mine? Maybe.
Would you rather earn more than your pals?
Numerous studies have explored how our peers can alter our financial choices. One powerful influence is not how much money or income you possess -- known as absolute income -- but where you stand financially in relation to others (your relative income).
Cornell economist Robert Frank describes a fascinating thought experiment in his book "Luxury Fever." Subjects were asked to choose one of two situations:
- Would you rather live in a world where you earn $50,000 but most people around you earn $25,000?
- Or would you rather live in a world where you earn $100,000 but most people around you earn $150,000?
Economists have found that most people choose option A, even though they'd have double the income with option B.
In other words, many people would rather earn more than those around them, even if that meant less money in absolute terms -- because relatively speaking, they still would feel wealthier.
'I get you, and you get me'
It's uncomfortable, often painful, to feel as if you don't measure up. Or as if you can't keep up with people you like, admire or feel close to -- financially and otherwise. Friendships are usually founded on a core feeling of equality or at least parity: "I get you, and you get me. We have similar resources and values."
But different friends can evoke different sets of feelings. I've faced plenty of situations akin to this one, and I've had no trouble making my budget known or asking friends about their financial preferences.
Money tension, I think, stems from the dynamic within a particular relationship -- and what money or income has come to represent: how you view the life you have versus the life you want; how you see yourself versus how you want others to see you.
Whatever is going on for you, when thorny money issues start pricking you, it's hard to put the emotions to one side and behave in a financially sensible way. But next time, I'm going to try to:
- Stick to my numbers. A friendship isn't going to expire over 20 bucks here or there.
- Avoid situations (or people) that I know are going to be overpriced.
- Communicate my preferences. It's not embarrassing to state your limits. Would you mind if a friend stated hers?
