Read time: 5 minutes.
My corporate job was costing me $23,000 a year. And I didn’t even know it.
A few months after I quit, I opened my credit card bill and thought, Why am I still spending like I have a boss?
So I listed everything I used to call “normal.”
The car lease made me look successful.
The $6 lattes that fueled 6 a.m. commutes.
The gym near the office, I barely visited.
When I added it up, it hit me: I’d been paying thousands to look employed.
When I finally saw my own numbers, I started noticing them everywhere. Friends, coworkers, clients—all quietly paying for the privilege of working.
Last month, I was talking with Maya over coffee. Maya works in marketing at a big tech company in San Francisco, making around $150K a year. Great job on the paper. The kind people congratulate you for landing.
But she casually mentioned something that stopped me cold.
She’d been putting off getting her wisdom teeth removed for six months because she didn’t have $1,200 to spare.
I looked at her, confused. “You make $150K. How is that possible?”
She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. “I know. It sounds insane.”
So we did the math right there at the coffee shop.
When you add it all up, Maya was spending about $5,000 a month just to maintain her job and recover from having it.
After taxes, she was taking home around $8,500 a month.
Which sounds like plenty, until you see $5,000 of it disappearing to show up and survive.
Her actual “life money”? About $3,500 a month. In San Francisco.
That’s less than someone making $60K in Austin.
No wonder she couldn’t afford the dentist.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot since that conversation.
How many people are in jobs that look great on paper but are secretly bankrupting them?
The teacher spends $500 a year on classroom supplies.
The consultant is maintaining a wardrobe they can’t afford.
The salesperson is leasing a luxury car to “look successful.”
The lawyer joining a country club for “networking” never actually does.
Everyone talks about earning more. Almost no one talks about how expensive it is to gain.
Here’s what I’ve realized: most people will never calculate what their job actually costs them.
And even if they leave to work for themselves, they won’t add it up on that side either. They’ll just trade one set of costs for another.
The commute becomes a co-working space membership.
The work wardrobe becomes new branding.
The networking drinks become expensive mastermind groups.
Different spending. Same trap.
Because the easiest way to fail at anything isn’t a bad strategy. It’s outspending your earnings on things you think you need to look the part.
Six months after our coffee shop conversation, Maya texted me.
She’d gone remote. Moved to a cheaper neighborhood. Started cooking at home. Cut the therapy because she wasn’t stressed anymore. Stopped buying clothes she didn’t like just because they looked “professional.”
Her income actually dropped a bit. She’s consulting now, making around $120K.
But here’s the thing: she’s keeping more of it.
Her monthly “job tax” went from $5,000 to maybe $1,500.
She got her wisdom teeth removed. She has savings now.
She works 30 hours a week instead of 60.
She didn’t get a raise. She just stopped paying for a life she didn’t want.
Here’s my question: What are you spending money on to look the part?
Maybe it’s the apartment near the office you can’t really afford.
The car payment looks successful.
The clothes you don’t even like.
The networking events feel more like expensive socializing than actual business.
Add it up. Find out what you’re spending to show up.
Then ask yourself: What would happen if I stopped?
Hit reply and tell me. What’s one expense you keep because you think you need it to succeed, but secretly wish you could drop?
I read and respond to every message. Your stories help shape future editions, and honestly, they remind me I’m not just writing into the void.
Until next Monday,
The Workplace Genie
P.S. This isn’t about cutting joy. It’s about cutting pretense, the stuff you never wanted in the first place, but kept paying for anyway.