Advice for interwealth friendships: how to avoid the guillotine

Poshos, stop asking for it. Peasants, they had it coming.

I have written enough about dating lately, so I thought I’d move to a domain where I have enjoyed similar success: money.

Wealth inequality is skyrocketing, and many of you struggle to maintain friendships across economic lines.

For some reason (because I am a nice person?) I have friends across the economic spectrum. The rich keep me because I am interesting and the poor because I validate them.

I am stressing economic and not social because the striving British middle class has destroyed the meaning of social background. In the UK, claiming a working-class background gives the impression of having gained your keep through merit, so everyone is mining their family trees for struggle. I come from Greece, where we still pretend to be richer than we are for social clout, so I don’t feel the urge to downplay my background. Plus, someone has to glamorise the striving middle class, and I am nothing if not glamorous, striving and middle class.

I will use words we can all understand: poor and rich. These words have different meanings in different contexts; apply them in whatever way makes more sense to your world. For a small fee and a closeup of your clavicle, you can send me a detailed message of your income, wealth and life circumstances, and I will help you determine if you are rich or poor (if I conclude you are poor, your fee will be deductible for a paid subscription but I will keep the collar bone pic).

I observe a sad situation. As we age into adulthood and lifestyle differences become pronounced, friendship groups triage on money. Poor people don’t feel comfortable or feel triggered or intimidated by their rich friends. Rich people don’t know how to act around poor people; they are embarrassed of their wealth or exaggerate the value wealth conveys to its owner, and so avoid poor people.

As shit is hitting the fan financially, people from either side feel bitter, jealous, threatened, suspicious, embarrassed and guilty. Luckily, and despite my political opposition to economic inequality, most people don’t have to fight for food. I was going to add shelter, but I live in London, and I know many people low on my friendship totem pole whose cold body I would walk over to secure another year in my Waterloo flat.

We all become spiritually, if not materially, poorer when we separate ourselves from people who live differently. It is especially sad when this happens between people who have lived through significant moments together, such as family events, high school, sports teams, etc. You can’t recreate the bond of a shared milestone. You can only experience high school, your first year in a foreign country, your first job, and your first victory or loss once. The relationships with the people who were there with you have meaning you can’t recreate, no matter how much you adore the new friends you make when you know yourself better.

So, here is my advice for interwealth friendships:

1. Don’t pick the restaurant or order the steak.

   Poor people don’t want to spend £50 on truffle foam (who hurt the rich who do?). It’s awkward to drop a tiny course restaurant in a group chat with young adults unless you are all equity bros. As a Greek, I don’t enjoy food unless its value for money, so I have a list of generous, fun restaurants I can safely dine with any companion. If you want to try somewhere expensive, you can offer to pay (yes, really, even and especially if the other person is a friend and not a romantic interest). If you are poor, learn to accept being paid for as a gesture of friendship and get rid of feelings of shame and guilt or entitlement. Feelings don’t make you a better person, but they block connection and enjoyment. If you order an expensive dish or more drinks than the rest of the table, don’t ask to split the bill. I always pay separately because I order like a carnivore Gwyneth Paltrow.

2. If you wonder why they are not doing something, maybe they can’t afford it.

   Here is a list of things people keep asking me why I don’t do that cost thousands of pounds: apply for British Citizenship, get a driver's license, live alone. People will stroke their chin and wonder out loud why it hasn’t occurred to me to do these things. I forgive them because my regal demeanour has always made others think I am made of gold, but these questions are why I used to worry about mixing my poor and rich friends. These days, I don’t protect the feelings of my poor friends or the reputation of my rich ones. I host massive parties every couple of years and see them as growth opportunities for my sheltered friends.

3. Don’t tell people how to spend their money

   All the richies commit this offence. I discuss this with poories often, so I can tell you with the Poor Person Authority bestowed upon me that it’s hurtful. The conversation usually goes like this ‘why does Jimmy spend money on takeaway/clothes/material good that loses half its value the moment it is purchased rather than save for a flat’. I can explain why. If you make good money, you can do something small and nice for yourself every day. You don’t have to stress about taking an Uber, being invited for dinner or drinks, buying a wedding outfit, a birthday present, etc. Your ‘choice’ to save money means not adding to your already good enough wardrobe, staying in an Airbnb rather than a 5-star hotel, shopping at the supermarket rather than the organic farmer’s market, etc. For a person on a basic salary, their only pleasure could be going to brunch once a month, buying a new dress from Asos or never missing their turn to buy a round on a pub crawl. Saving means never buying a takeaway coffee and rationing their protein in their grocery shop. The poor person must live a Spartan life devoid of pleasure to save £100 a month. You can live a pleasant but not luxurious life and save £1000. The numbers are random, but do you see the point? A downpayment for a flat awaits the rich at the end of a no-spent year, whereas all that awaits the poor is a survival buffer. Stop being a dick.

I choose you

4. Leisure time/holidays are different for everyone.

   During bank holidays, some go to their summer/winter home. Others go to the big ASDA. Don’t make it weird. Don’t ask questions that assume the inescapability of future leisure, like ‘any travel plans?’. Equally, don’t guilt trip people into joining in on your plans, and be ready to accommodate wildly differing budgets. I am turning 30 this year, and everyone in my year group wants to send off their 20s in style, but there are only so many mini-trips one can take. Be honest about whether you are doing something because you want to do the thing (i.e. you want a nice trip) or to spend quality time with your friends.

5. It’s easy to be close to your family when they are rich.

   When I was still harbouring the illusion that all families are lovely jubbly, I asked a friend who was estranged with his how he was spending Christmas. He graciously ignored my puppy-eyed excitement and changed the subject. Delight is not always the appropriate reaction when a friend says they are visiting ‘home’. Be curious about people’s family arrangements and be open to them having feelings about their family that make you uncomfortable. For many people, going home means being pampered, cooked for, taken out for meals and shopping, sharing their problems and being offered practical and emotional support. For other people, going home means being bullied about their life choices, being showered with bills and pleas for resources they struggle to top up. Poor people become caretakers sooner. Rich people enjoy delayed adolescence. I like the question, ‘What’s your family like?’ or ‘What’s your relationship with them?’.

6. Don’t hide/exaggerate your spending habits.

   Don’t lie about your spending. If you underreport, you sound patronising; if you inflate it, you sound like you have an inferiority complex. You are not your purchases. When the mood for dressing like a savage strikes, I take great pleasure in splurging on fashion. I used to feel embarrassed when friends with an equal or higher salary than me would say something from the high street is expensive, and I would think, why would you buy shoes from Zara? Now, I openly discuss my spending habits if prompted. I stopped faking it for others when I realised how awkward I found it when friends would try to justify themselves (‘I needed a classic black shoulder bag for my work meetings’) when their parents would buy them designer stuff. Like, who cares? Your mom is not my landlord; chill.

7. However, be open to how your standards make others feel.

   Believe it or not, everyone would choose the nicer thing. Unless you choose to have McDonald's in your private jet, in which case, it’s counter-signalling. There is only so far good taste, market research, and ingenuity can take you. I cough up big bucks for some things. My grocery list is decadent and I spend more on my fitness than most. I have friends who love seeing what I eat and how I exercise on my Instagram because it gives them inspiration; I have others who have told me they unfollowed me for it. Someone once told me, he is astonished at my capacity not just to afford my meals but to allow myself to spend the money and time to feed myself in the way I do. That friend is a lot more valuable and expansive to me as a person than the friends who want to join me in my boutique pilates class. Good friends tackle difficult topics.

8. Who bought you that?

   House, watch, trip, promotion, voting rights, ad space. Own up to it. People can tell, and it breeds bitterness. It’s a crime against humanity to not disclose help with a downpayment but there are other trigger points too. Who financed a wedding, for example, or a new side hustle project? You’d be surprised how many adult lifestyles are subsidised by boomer parents, but it’s obvious once you do the math on people’s salaries Vs their lifestyles.

9. If you are triggered by wealth, it’s because you value it.

   Envy is an instructional feeling. It shows you what you want for yourself. I have always used envy to direct my life choices, and high salaries or material goods never gave me a pang in the chest. I feel visceral pain, though, when I encounter people who write or speak better than me (which means I am in constant pain). I want to puke when I watch men on YouTube interview better than me. If you feel personally (which is different from politically) affected when people spend or earn money, then it is a value you hold. There is no use denying it; embrace your shadow self. A telltale sign that you are a middle-class striver yourself is if you mind rich peers doing rich people stuff. We are more triggered by people who are better than us in an arena we want to dominate. If you don’t aspire to what the rich are doing, then it should leave you unmoved on a personal level. We should have issues with the injustice of people flying on private jets while children go to school on an empty stomach, but I don’t see why we would lose sleep over our friend staying at a 5-star resort unless we think we should be in the bungalow with them.

10. Be generous (with your resources and interpretations)

    Give rich people grace. Give poor people money. Don’t give up on human connection; Life is an endless struggle, it’d be nice if we could all stay friends.

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A plea in these hellish times.

A friend of a friend is fundraising to help her cousin and two children escape Gaza. They have been moving from place to place unable to find safe shelter. I don’t often get worked up about fundraisers and don’t plan on sharing many more here, but the lives of one’s family feel important enough to ruin the brand. Donate here.