Money can't buy happiness

Once upon a time, a very old man ruled over a great nation (probably the greatest nation on the planet? Certainly close to the greatest, assuming China’s economy continues to under-perform).

The only game in town, for a state, is “How can I gain more and more of the world’s output for myself?” And this nation–our nation (for it’s the one in which I live) had created a global economy in which nations competed to sell their output to each other. And for reasons that nobody could quite understand, this country, the United States, kept winning this competition! For a century or more! Force was often involved, but not always. Other competitors: the European Union, Japan, China, always seemed as if they would at some point out-grow or out-compete our nation, but it never quite worked out–they always faltered at some point. This nation had something–let’s call it the X factor. They had it, and they had retained it, for three or four generations, which is pretty good!

Anyway, in this nation, a girl had come of age and wanted a husband.

Yeah, that was all preamble. Everything–all the economic, political stuff–just preamble to this girl who wanted a husband.

She was on the apps, answering messages, going on dates. Right now a guy was pretty interested. He kept messaging. He took her to expensive restaurants, told her how brilliant and beautiful she was. It was a lot of praise, and she didn’t entirely hate it. The passion wasn’t there, of course—she never thought about him when he wasn’t around. But they could talk. He listened. He wasn’t overly arrogant.

And, best of all, he was rich. He was a partner in a well-performing VC firm, and his yearly draw was probably on the order of $800,000 a year. Assuming his current fund did well—he’d probably get performance pay on the order of, like, three or four million dollars? And that was only the start—he could look forward to at least another decade or two of these payouts! She didn’t totally care about the money, but if she was honest she probably wouldn’t be seeing him if he didn’t have such good earning potential.

Meanwhile, a month ago she’d gone out with a teacher, and he was cute, funny, and he clearly thought she was just another Silicon Valley techie a ponytail and no personality! Which was so unfair, because, like, she was a software engineer, and it’s not even that common to be a woman engineer, first of all.

Second of all, most of them are really, really nerdy. They spend their time, like, going to anime conventions or whatever. She didn’t do that. She exercised, did regular person things, hung out with her friends, went to their bachelorette parties, got drunk on the weekends, took an edible and watched reality TV—which, okay, all of that seemed pretty basic. But her job was super technical. It was quite difficult and exacting. Like…most people with her job had majored in computer science as undergrads–a difficult major, kinda designed to weed out dilettantes. That means at eighteen or nineteen years old, they knew they wanted to code, and they must’ve already been kinda good at it? How did they get that desire? Not at school. They didn’t have a coding class at their little high school. I mean some of them did—Bill Gates had a coding club at his high school, and the school had even owned a computer (a fact made famous by the book Outliers). Anyway, these kids loved computers. They were drawn to the order and logic, they wanted to do computers their whole life, make something with them.

And she too kinda loved computers. She loved to code, loved to solve these problems that were too difficult to explain to other people. She hadn’t been into it as a teenager–she’d, like, gone to school and studied and hung out with friends and done sports. But in college she’d thought. why not take a coding class, and yeah all these boys were huge dicks about it, oh so you’ve never touched a computer before–which was untrue (she had, obviously, but she’d never really coded). And she’d done it. She’d treated it like what it was, which was school, and she’d stayed up late, studied hard, taught herself to code. And she’d gotten a fucking A. And she’d taken more CS classes and gotten A’s in those. And now she had this really well-paid job, that she ENJOYED DOING.

But, at the same time, it was still a job. It was work. She had meetings, deadlines, sometimes needed to work late. And at the end of the day, was it really meaningful? It was always just code, right? It was interesting–it was like playing a game all day–but ultimately, she was coding. It was creative work, but not ground-breaking–somebody needs to make the computers do the things they’re supposed to do, and she knew how to do it, and it paid a lot and that was great!

But she would love just waking up and not having to do it? Or not doing it for money? Some people just did it for fun–they built code things for fun. It’s a whole community, open-source people. They’d probably love if someone with her skills started contributing. She used a ton of open-source tools. If she logged onto Github and saw, oh here’s some bugs or whatever in Obsidian–she could just do it—just fix them. This was the same as what she did for work, but for free. Instead of being paid, like, $400,000 a year to do, she could do it for free. But on her own schedule, without meetings and stuff. Probably still lots of petty drama, maybe it wouldn’t be fun. But maybe it would be super life-affirming and wonderful, contributing to software she believed in! There’s probably a middle-ground somewhere, where she gets paid a little bit to do a job that’s more meaningful–but she had a friend who worked for the nonprofit that runs Wikipedia and he didn’t love it. He didn’t wake up each day inspired and energetic. He was like–it’s still work. You have bosses and meetings, but you just get paid less.

Anyway, if she married a teacher she’d need to keep doing her so-so job forever, whereas if she married a VC then she could quit. But that would also involve some kind of negotiations and compromises. Usually people with well-off spouses quit their jobs because there was a baby. She could raise a baby, she supposed, if it meant she got to quit her job. But then she’s just getting paid room and board to do another job. No, not that exciting. Lots of people seemed to have nannies and stuff AND they didn’t do a lot, didn’t really work. She’d need to ease into it. The key would be, once she got pregnant, to saym oh but I’ll scale down my job to take care of this baby–except we also need to get help? A full other person in addition to myself? Just to care for one baby? Kinda didn’t make sense.

So she went on dates and stuff, waiting to fall in love. She didn’t have a lot of free time–that was the thing. Because of this other thing, her job, which she was good at! So how was she gonna invest her time? Going on dates with some teacher or yoga instructor or whatever, who didn’t really respect her anyway, so she always felt as if she was auditioning for their fucking attention, even though she was a unique and special and beautiful person who deserved to be feted and honored? Or marry the VC who seemed to really like her and could give her a good life? Or find some side project that used her time and energies?

Or…just…keep working? No, not too exciting.

But she could it.

If she had to.

She was totally willing to say fuck it, nobody is gonna come along, I’ll just really invest in this job. I’ll sacrifice the evenings I could be dating the teacher, who might fall in love with me. I’ll put in the work to find projects, at this dumb company (which makes HR software that, if she’s being honest, isn’t particularly good or easy to use). Yes there are a lot of meetings, and the problems aren’t that interesting–Like, what at this enterprise software company is even worth the sacrifice of her weekends anyway?

What the fuck, she would do it. But it’d basically be just to make even more money and to find something to do. And then there’d be all this new-found drama related to her job–people jealous of her–office politics, etc. But people would be happy. It wouldn’t be a ton of drama–she shouldn’t overstate the case. A company is usually happy when a valuable employee decides to do more work.

But then after everything they could also lay her off! Like…she is paid four hundred thousand dollars a year, which is a lot of money, and someone could decide, oh let’s save money by firing this person, which is stupid, because she IS NECESSARY TO THEIR COMPANY’S BOTTOM LINE. SHE IS ADDING A LOT OF VALUE TO THIS COMPANY.

Using her life force, she decided to learn this valuable skill. It was valuable, that’s why she decided to learn it. If they suddenly decided she and it aren’t as valuable anymore–they’re kinda deprecating all this work she did learning this skill. What if that happens? What if they decide her skills don’t matter anymore at all? Oh, with AI we don’t need to invest so much in our cloud engineering team.

She’d deal with it, whatever, but then it’s a big investment she’s writing off. She’s already invested her whole youth, her education, her college experience, in learning this skill. Hasn’t she given enough? Is she really gonna invest more time in this company?

That’s what it’s all about, right? What is she gonna invest in? With her evenings? Once upon a time, she invested in computers.

Whatever.

That’s the thing about love–that ecstatic feeling—this is the person—this is the guy—he’s the one I’ve been working for all along—I have this job for him, to support him. It’s like religion. Like believing in a company. Like…well…it’s like taking a coding class and at the end of the semester saying I DID IT. I LEARNED TO CODE. People didn’t believe in me–even with all my intelligence–they didn’t believe in me. But I did it. I was good at it.

And the point is, when it comes to investing her remaining life force why should we ask this woman not to value MONEY? Accumulating it. Amassing it. Having it in her bank account. Getting money! Which she has! Maybe she’s the rich one! Maybe she’s the wealthy spouse who’ll enable someone else to pursue their dreams.

Which would also be pretty meaningful!

Anyway, she’s really not unhappy. She’s got some life force. She expends it. She’s got weekends and evenings. At some point, nobody is gonna want it and her anymore. She will come to an end. But in the meantime, all of this activity, all of her life, her energy, amounts to one thing: the fairly hefty sum in her bank account. Her whole life is just about increasing that percentage of the world’s product upon which she has some claim. And what if that too–all her wealth–comes to nought? What if America falters and fails and the dollar loses its value? What if there’s currency controls or inflation? A few years of hyperinflation could completely wipe her out–it’s not impossible. It’s happened before. There must’ve been girls (well, more likely men) working and saving in Weimar, only to lose it all.

But she doesn’t expect that to happen. In the meantime, through some weird alchemy that neither I nor any other scientist understands, America has managed to convince people like her to expend their life force on doing…something or other with computers. Something good? Something that produces value? We’re not really sure. It’ll probably never really become clear–any of it–and she will die and still nobody will understand why she was paid so much money, and whether her work did any good for the world whatsoever–but America issued a call, and she fucking answered it. If there was anything else they wanted her to do with her life, then they should’ve fucking told her. If someone had ever once told her–don’t do that, do this instead, we really need you to work on this–there’s a good chance she would’ve done it. But that never happened.

She’s still open to it, though, which is why she goes on dates.

To find the teacher.

Whom she could love.

Probably.

If she had to.

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Afterword

There's an essay I've been trying to write for weeks. It's about the one genre of pre-modern classic that I absolutely cannot stand: wisdom literature.

Wisdom literature is so ubiquitous that you probably don't even register it as a specific thing–it's these collections of sayings or maxims, often (but not always) phrased as being for the instruction of future rulers, or the lessons dispensed by a father to his son.

The most famous example in contemporary America is the Book of Proverbs, from the Old Testament. But Proverbs is a relatively recent entrant into the genre–by the time it was composed, the Egyptians had been composing wisdom literature for a thousand years.

The thing about wisdom literature is that it's so mind-numbingly banal. Look at Proverbs 1:10-15

[10] My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.

[11] If they say, Come with us, let us lay wait for blood, let us lurk privily for the innocent without cause:

[12] Let us swallow them up alive as the grave; and whole, as those that go down into the pit:

[13] We shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses with spoil:

[14] Cast in thy lot among us; let us all have one purse:

[15] My son, walk not thou in the way with them; refrain thy foot from their path:

This isn't exactly offensive, but...why bother writing this down? My son, if men come to you asking you to rob someone...don't do it, because that's bad. WTF. Why waste a scribe's time with this? Why pay someone to copy this? Why kill a sweet innocent lamb just to flay them for their skin to write this stuff down upon? The amount of labor that must've been expended between 500 B.C. and 1500 A.D. to preserve these lines is just staggering. And why? To what end?

Okay...but the reason I don't write the essay is because I'm sure that in the original, the lines are actually quite beautiful.

I say this because there is one ancient language I can sort of read–Old English–and I do actually like Old English wisdom literature. There's a poem called Maxims, that begins:

ÐUS frod fæder freobearn lærde,
modsnottor maga cystum eald,  
wordum wisfæstum, þæt he wel þunge:
"Do a þætte duge, deag þin gewyrhtu;
god þe biþ symle goda gehwylces
frea ond fultum...

--Source: Old English Poetry Facsimile project

I don't know Old English well enough to do an exact translation, but basically it says, there's an old man, very wise, who gave words of wisdom to his child: "Do those deeds that are most fit, and god will be with you.."

And it goes on like that. It's one of the first poems that I felt I could maybe actually read, and I just love the rhythms of old English, the sound of it, the assonances and alliterations. It's beautiful!

And the site I linked to, although it's difficult to use, is such a fantastic resource. It must've taken so much effort to program and compile and maintain this compendium of basically all the extant OE verse. It would be kind of sacrilegious if someone was to say...oh but this verse is pretty banal. Which it is! Basically, it’s saying “do good stuff that's good to do.” Why even bother writing that? Well...who knows! But it was written so beautifully!

Wisdom literature seems to be a stage that a literary language goes through. Even in the Old Testament itself, by the time we get to Ecclesiastes (written at least a few hundred years after most of the sayings in Proverbs) the understanding of what's right and needful action is much more complex and nuanced. The writer of Ecclesiastes praises wisdom as the highest thing, but ultimately even wisdom is 'mere breath'. Everything will fade away. And, you know what, at least a fool enjoys themselves today!

Then I saw that wisdom excelleth folly, as far as light excelleth darkness. The wise man's eyes are in his head; but the fool walketh in darkness: and I myself perceived also that one event happeneth to them all. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool, so it happeneth even to me; and why was I then more wise? Then I said in my heart, that this also is vanity. For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the wise man? as the fool.

As philosophy, this is a lot more useful to thoughtful people than wisdom literature.

Thinking of the pieces of wisdom I've encountered in my own life, the most common advice is to pursue love. To marry the person you can't imagine living without. To work at the job you enjoy and know is necessary.

It's true, of course, but it's also drivel. Yeah you should try to earn a living doing something you love. Great. But how? And yeah you should try to meet someone you really respect and feel passionate about, who feels the same for you. Great! Let's get right on that!

In contrast, the one piece of folk wisdom that's always stuck with me is that old saying "it's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor man." Now there's a good proverb! It's so true. And plenty of women more or less follow it: they preemptively restrict their dating pool only to men who earn a good living. It seems to work out well for them!

In the case of my protagonist, she earns a good living herself, so she doesn't need a high-earning spouse. But, well, it would be nice! Similarly, she doesn't need her high-earning job, but...it’s better than being bored and overworked and not being paid a lot of money! All that other stuff–love, satisfaction, enjoyment–it feels so substantial when you write about it, but in real life...it seems to lack substance when put next to, you know, piles of money. Moola. Cashola.

People are like, oh, it's just money. It has no concrete meaning. Well...doesn't it? Money has a much more concrete meaning than happiness does!

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Further Reading

Too many strands this week to cover them all, so I’ll focus on the Old English part. If you want to learn Old English there’s a really good exercise book you can buy! It comes with an app that’ll read out passages for you. The beauty of Old English is really in the pronunciations—each word is a strange, ersatz version of a word you probably already know. There’s also an Anki deck with about five hundred OE words, if you want to drill yourself.

The dirty secret about antique languages is most people, even scholars, don’t really know them well enough to read them without a facing-page translation. Old English is both easier and harder than, say, Latin. It’s easier because the vocabulary is small, the declensions and conjugations are simple, and many of the words sound or look similar to their modern English counterparts. This makes reading Old English prose comparatively simple. But Old English poetry is another beast: the frequent use of compound words (kennings) means you’ll quite frequently encounter words in a text that you’ve never seen before. For instance, there’s an old English word that you’ll literally only see in poetry: banhus. It means bone-house (i.e. a body). What the heck are you gonna do with banhus if you run across it in a text? Just very, very hard to puzzle out without help. So with Old English I think the ideal is that you learn the words and grammar and pronunciation well enough that you can capture the artistry. Which, luckily, is relatively simple! If you want a cheap and easy source of poetic texts and facing-page translations, I recommend A Choice of Anglo-Saxon Verse, edited by Richard Hamer. Unlike most OE texts, it’s not a textbook, so it’s relatively affordable.

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Up Next

I’ve been writing a lot—way too much to publish, even on my twice a week schedule, and anyway I’m trying to be selective and only push out the best stuff to my subscribers (now over 1,000 as of yesterday!) But I did have some thoughts about my experiences publishing fiction on Substack, and I thought they’d be something my paid subscribers would like to read. I’ve decided I’m just going to send paid emails to paid subscribers—no need to bother everyone else with an email they can’t read. But if you want to hear my thoughts about the differences between self-publishing literary fiction (versus sending it to journals or to my agent), please consider getting a paid subscription!

Also, I’m gonna be in NYC again next week, headlining a reading called the World Transsexual Forum at Franklin Park in Brooklyn. Monday July 29—starts at 7:30, and I think I’ll be on around 9 p.m.