We Worked 108 Days for Free
Real wages are down 12%. CEO pay is up 54%. And somehow we're the ones reconsidering everything.
Ya know that drum roar of building rage you sorta hear and feel, but can’t quite put your finger on? I think I’ve nailed it: we worked 108 days we didn’t get paid for.
Our real wages, in terms of our actual take-home pay and what our dollars will buy, is down, way down. Thanks to higher prices and inflation, our take-home pay is 12% lower than it was in 2019. It’s why everything feels more expensive – because it is.
Had I known I was working my ass off all this time for free, I definitely would have taken some longer lunches and gotten my nails done. Hell, I might have called in sick some.
CEOs are getting paid $8.4 million a year
Meanwhile, CEOs are getting paid $8.4 million a year, on average, an increase of 11%. That’s the going rate for the 1,500 highest paid executives across the globe. Since 2019, their pay has soared 54%.
Pissed? Just wait.
Less than 6% of these high-paid leaders are women: only 86 women. We make up half the world, but you’d never know it from these numbers.
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Just look at the pay gap: men still get paid 16% more than women. For the exact same work. It should be criminal.
Men still get paid 16% more than women
This is 2026. How are things still so ass-backward when it comes to gender and pay? It’s pathetic.
It’s why we’re angry and feeling poor. Prices are growing way faster than our incomes, and that inversion is making everything worse and putting all of us in a foul mood.
What We’re Actually Doing About It
Take purses. I like luxury bags and am accustomed to buying a new Louis Vuitton purse every year or two. But I have noticed my interest start to wane, seeing it on the shoulders of every celebrity and Real Housewife. To the point it’s made me question what used to be a joyful purchase:
“Can I really afford this?” I now feel forced to ask myself. “Even if I can technically pay for the same purse, these women are way wealthier than me. If I buy it, doesn’t that just make me stupid with my money?”
Can I really afford this? Even if I can technically pay for the same purse, these women are way wealthier than me. If I buy it, doesn’t that just make me stupid with my money?
Add in tariffs and a weaker dollar, and purse prices are up significantly, even over 18 months ago. As for the man at the top setting the price of purses, he made $3.8 billion last year as the CEO of LVMH. I won’t say never, but that’s a hit to my financial heart I can’t stomach right now.
All told, the cost of what we buy is up 25%, based on the Consumer Price Index. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that at least half of us are cutting back on spending. It might take on a different flavor for each of us. Say you’re hitting up your savings more often than you’d like to pay off your credit card. Or maybe you’re simply delaying buying all new appliances in the hopes the economy will improve and prices will come down. Both are uncomfortable risks that put anyone on edge just from the uncertainty.
How many homes have you been in where there are several empty rooms? People pick up a higher monthly mortgage and forgo furniture, unable to afford both. Or you can be like me, who for years used an empty room as a yoga studio. I enjoyed it but I also refused to pay $11,270 for each of the two Eames chairs I lusted after to fill the spot. Of course, if you want to give me one or share your employee discount, I’ll happily accept.
For some, cutting back on spending isn’t enough. A full 30% are actively looking for ways to bring in more money each month. Some are picking up side hustles while others are applying for new jobs in hopes of a higher salary. In some industries, perhaps negotiating for a higher salary is working. But I’m not seeing that play out well in tech, where there are more people than jobs.
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The People You’d Think Are Fine
But what’s perhaps most surprising is a look at those hit the hardest, which is probably the group you’d least expect. Those earning $100,000 a year are more likely to be living paycheck-to-paycheck than those earning $50K. Not because they can’t cover groceries — because they bought the house, the car, and the lifestyle. All assuming their income would keep up, but it hasn’t.
Here in Dallas they’re referred to as “the $35,000 millionaire.” While the numbers don’t actually work, it’s the idea of living beyond your means. If you lose your job overnight — a daily reality in tech — you feel screwed. It’s a debt doom that feels like a jail.
It’s a debt doom that feels like a jail
I’m guilty of it. It’s so easy to think you can spend more just because you’re making more. We convince ourselves we “deserve” a costly treat.
It’s also why I automatically offset any pay increase with higher contributions to my retirement. I don’t want the temptation, so I don’t ever allow the additional funds to show up in my bank account. If only I could be that diligent with my workouts and food choices.
Ironic. The people assumed to be fine — those with jobs and a mortgage — are the ones doing the math they used to ignore. Same house payment, car note and taxes. Nothing new, other than less money coming in to cover the nut. The stress isn’t obvious because it’s the middle-of-the night kind.
For my partner and me, it shows up when we’re trying to pick where to go for dinner. Typically our decision would be based only on desire and ease. Now there is a whole new dimension that hits hardest: the cost of the meal. As we talk through options, often hungry and increasingly irritable, inevitably the options we dismiss are because of price.
“No, they’ve just gotten too expensive. It’s not worth it.”
No, they’ve just gotten too expensive. It’s not worth it.
How can you not compare the bill with what you could otherwise buy? A meal out or a new pair of high-end jeans that might actually fit. I pick the jeans, every time.
All of which means the spending we do requires a lot more scrutiny — before we buy. Things we pause to consider, when before we’d never think twice.
Running the Numbers on a New Car
I used to love getting a brand new luxury vehicle every two or three years. I could do this because I was leasing. I like to drive fast in a car with a kick-ass sound system turned up loud. The whole experience is a roar covered in new-car smell.
My last lease, of a Mercedes-Benz, came up during covid. The easiest thing in a lease is to stick with the same brand. They will roll equity into a new car, to keep moving you up to a higher model. I could have gotten another Mercedes but I refused. I hated that car — worst car ever. My partner had one, and it kept catching on fire. I was done.
Car inventory was limited and the last thing you wanted to do was look at cars with strangers when you were trying to not die from covid.
After exploring different brands and running the numbers — my math changed. I was getting tired of making a decision every two years on which brand and model. What used to be fun was becoming a hassle.
One car I’m glad I didn’t consider: Rivian. The company hasn’t turned a profit and its CEO took home $403 million last year. Clearly they don’t need my money. After a test drive and meeting a young salesperson anxious for my purchase — I bought a Subaru. Their dog commercials definitely helped.
But it’s not lost on me that this is the time of my life when I’m supposed to be at my peak earning potential. If my salary was keeping up with CEO pay — which has jumped 54% since 2019 — I’d probably be buying a second boat. Instead, I’m downgrading all of my purchases.
Will the Subaru stick? I’m not convinced. Every time I pull into the Whole Food parking lot filled, it’s filled with brand new pricey cars. Jealousy kicks in. I, too, want to be that cute lady in the latest athleisure gear getting into a brand new — fill in the blank. My preference varies day-by-day. But I can’t justify the cost. Right now, I’d rather keep my money in the market.
Why are we so shy talking about money? If you’re feeling brave, share where you’re cutting back. Ask other readers a question that’s top of mind for you. Hell, ask me what surprised you about this piece.
Comments are open — start a conversation.
Cheers to spending our time and money well!
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Oh and about that calling in sick, I feel a sore throat coming on...(wink! wink!)
Feeling all of this. It's frustrating and exhausting. I find myself questioning every purchase. And I HATE that we are making date night decisions based upon cost of the meal, not our stomach's cravings. All of these are small luxuries, I know. You perfectly captured so many little annoyances I hadn't put into larger context.