Mr. Chili and I live very comfortably. We have, as I like to say, more than enough. We don’t stress about paying our bills, and we have enough left over for things like vacations, flute lessons, and summer camp. In short, I love our lives and we’re doing just fine.
We’ve had a couple of experiences in the last month, though, that have left me feeling like we’re not doing all that well at all, and I’m disturbed by how easily I have been put off my balance in the face of outright affluence.
Last month, Punkin’s classroom was invited to an end-of-the-school-year, celebratory swim party at the home of a classmate. I RSVP-ed, got the address, and we headed over at the appropriate time. I was familiar with the neighborhood - one of Punkin’s friends, Maddie, also lives there, and Punk had attended a birthday party or two in Maddie’s honor - so I know that the folks who live there are, well, let’s just say they live in a higher tax bracket than we Chilis do.
What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was the sheer scope of the pool party venue. Yes, the house was huge, but I was expecting that - size doesn’t necessarily impress me. What blew me away were the details. There were bays for FIVE cars - three under the house and two in the “pool house” (yes, you read that right - the POOL HOUSE) which, truly, was bigger than my home was before we added on. The back yard was enclosed in a beautiful fence, impeccably landscaped with flowers and potted palms and stone ledges and flagstone. The pool house boasted pretty much complete living facilities; a full kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom - and that was just downstairs (”oh, the upstairs isn’t finished,” said with a wave of the hand, “there’s nothing up there.” Yeah, I know the feeling). The in-ground pool looked to be something that I would expect at a vacation resort. In short, it was all gorgeous, and I left the place feeling a little like a bag lady with decent shoes. (*)
Saturday, we spent the afternoon at the home of one of Mr. Chili’s fraternity brothers in a suburb of Boston. A very wealthy suburb of Boston. The home is enormous but, like I said, it’s not the size that gets to me; the place is just stunning. The architectural detail inside the house is breathtaking - handsome woodwork; beautiful lighting; built-in bookshelves and art nooks; wide, straight staircases with clean, almost oriental handrail details. Outside is just as beautiful - landscaped yard with lovely plants and a little vegetable garden, brick patio, and a full, raised porch on the back of the house. Of course, the brother is the vice president of a container company and his husband is a very successful real estate attorney (I think he’s a partner in his firm, even). Money, it seems, is no object.
Saturday afternoon, Mr. Chili came to me and quietly said, “I’m not a CEO or a V.P. I’m just a little engineer in a little university. Is that okay?” I guess he’d been taking in all the conspicuous wealth, too, and was feeling the slightly cowing effects.
I really hate the feelings of, well, inadequacy that I get after being in environments that I know we could never afford. I understand that these people aren’t better than we are; they aren’t happier or smarter or nicer - their money doesn’t make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. I should also say here that, at least with the fraternity brother, money doesn’t change the way he behaves, either; he’s lovely and warm and generous to just about everyone, regardless of economic bracket. It does mean that they get to host bigger, nicer parties than we do, though, and it means they can hire caterers and rent bouncy castles to entertain the kids, and it means that they can have other people tend their gardens and vacuum their floors. I don’t need those things and, most of the time, I wouldn’t WANT those things (though having someone else clean up once in a while wouldn’t be such a bad thing, I think).
So, why do I leave these situations feeling poor?
(*that photo is of one of the mansions in Newport RI. You want to talk about conspicuous wealth, you should take a trip through some of the “summer cottages” of the old oil and railroad tycoons…)
I have gotten over those feelings you described, although I once had them. All I seen now with huge homes and ownership of many flashy cars is excessive energy use. You don’t have to become an energy pig when you get rich, but it seems to be de rigeur. I am somewhat acquainted with someone who has great wealth, and in the time I’ve been aware of this person he has had immense houses built, enjoyed a collection of motor yachts, etc. I suspect having a lot of money leads people to want more and more toys. Sort of like “what good is it being obscenely rich if I can’t show it off, or at least die with the most toys.”
Now the party thing doesn’t faze me, because I don’t like parties. I’ve always perceived them as gatherings of people I don’t hang around with and pretty much don’t want to know. People drink, watch each other drink, and talk about “safe” subjects, like, for example, “it’s so hard getting good help.” I’m usually (if the word “usually” can be used to describe a partygoer who “usually” doesn’t go) the guy over to the side sipping a drink thinking about when an exit won’t be impolite, then deciding to exit without considering the polite part.
I hear ya. I am so happy with my lot in life, that sometimes I forget that I’m living way beyond the means and comfort of most of the rest of the world. I have to step back and put it into perspective.
It helps that I have an acquaintance who is extremely materialistic. She couldn’t understand why my house was bigger when our husbands were the same age. Um? What? And she’d rant and rave over it. So all I have to do is listen to how she sounds, and know, I do not want to be that unsatisfied person. She will never be happy, (and she really isn’t), because someone will always have more than she.
There’s alot of that in this area as we live near a certain large software company. I call it wretched excess. And i truly don’t want it. Ownership of lots of stuff takes time and energy that i would rather spend on other things.
I know some really stinking rich people. They are no happier than i, and in the majority of cases less happy.
I grew up in affluent, Jewish Montreal, where my father’s brother had a large home (we called them mansions in those days) in the most expensive neighborhood in Canada. I recall my mother being distinctly uncomfortable visiting my uncle and his wife and children who were, all things considered, nice enough, but my mom’s envy of all the cars and fancy parties came down to me in a palpable way. Recently, I spent time with an old friend who, when complimented on her lovely silver pendant, replied with, “”It’s Tiffany.” It was a moment of insight onto HER thinking - something to prove and a statement to make. “Thank you” would have sufficed.
Tense and I are just now getting to where we are comfortable. Id like to spoil her more though…
I know exactly how you feel. Happens to me, to. You know you’re happy with your life and that’s enough, yet those feelings still sneak in.
You’re perfectly normal. Hope that’s somewhat comforting.
I have two factors of comfort here- one is that I don’t really care about money. The second is that for competitive purposes (which is what you’re talking about) I am comfortable in my assessment that I am light years more vulgar and perverted than other folks. I wear the Scarlet F with pride.
Wealth makes me distinctly uncomfortable. I just don’t understand that overwhelming desire to aquire. I firmly believe that there is plenty for everyone if we just take what we need. How can anyone need a pool house and a 5 car garage?
“There is plenty for everyone if we just take what we need.”
The devil is in the details. Just what is it that we “need” and who gets to decide where to draw the line for other people?
I’ll bet the company that got to build the pool house and the five car garage appreciated the work, as did the carpenters, electricians, etc, who did the labor, as did the materials supplier that sold the lumber, etc, etc.
Yes, I’m sure the builders did appreciate the work. I think we all have to decide for ourselves. I personally would be uncomfortable with a pool house when there are folks living under bridges… There are a lot of devils in these details. Didn’t mean to offend.
It seems like most people have issues with money, be it too much, too little, or just enough. I’m working on feeling worthy of what I’ve got and not worrying about what the future might hold in the way of cash sink holes.
No offense taken. I get uncomfortable around such affluence myself. I think it tends to make me wonder if I’m “doing things right” professionally. It’s the grass is greener syndrome (probably with a hint of envy thrown in). Then I look at myself and realize I am very comfortable and quite happy. Some may look at me and wonder why I need everything that I have. The fact is I don’t need it. I simply want it, and I’m fortunate enough to be able to have it.
However, to take your point about building pool houses while people are living under bridges: again, there are jobs attached to the consumption of the rich. If they don’t build the pool house, nobody gets paid for the work. Possibly another person now needing to live under that bridge?
True, and I certainly don’t have all the answers. It seems to me, however, that it would be a better use of resources if someone actually lived in the pool house. Maybe there is a Kato there? These people could also be huge philanthropists, I’m sure the oil producing countries and American oil interests are gratfull. Their consumption may well benefit many more people than my poor attempts at reduction. Oops, that was snippy. There I go projecting my belief system on others again.
I really had no intention of getting political or picking on this particular pool house.
Dudley, I think you hit on what Mr. Chili was feeling when he came to me and pointed out that he was “just a little engineer in a little university.” He provides very well for his family - I am happy and contented (and that happiness and contentment has precious little to do with THINGS, anyway), but it’s still really scary how easily that kind of self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy sneaks into one’s thinking…