Feelings are a terrible way to measure money.

The first thing I learned about money after graduating is that feelings are a terrible way to measure it.

I spent the first few months of my career in this weird emotional fog where I simultaneously felt grateful to have a salary and somehow still felt broke, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that the reason I felt broke had nothing to do with my actual bank account. It had to do with the fact that I was measuring my money against other people's money, which is a game you cannot win because there is always some f****r somewhere with more. Always. You could be cashing in six figures at 24 and if the algorithm shows you a 22 year old buying a Porsche you'll feel like you're behind. I think that's a measurement problem not a money one.

The thing that changed for me was sitting down and putting a concrete number on what I needed. Not what I wanted, not what would impress people, just what I needed to live, save a bit, and not think about money every single day. Once I had that number, money stopped being an emotion that scares me. You show up, you provide value, someone pays you for that value. That's it. It's not romantic, it's honest, and honest is a lot more useful than romantic when you're trying to build a life that doesn't make you anxious every time you check your account.

In those first three to five years, the money is almost beside the point. I don't mean it doesn't matter, because it does, you have rent and you're not a monk. What I mean is that the thing compounding fastest in that period is your social capital, not your salary. The people you meet, the reputation you build, the trust you earn by being someone who shows up and does good work without needing to be managed. That stuff compounds in ways that a ten percent pay rise never will, because three years from now the person who remembers you as reliable and sharp is the person who calls you when the interesting opportunity comes up.

I see a lot of people my age optimising their early career for the highest possible number on their offer letter (or a gorgeous investment bank name on the CV), and I get it because money is real and loans are real and nobody wants to feel like they're falling behind. But if you pick the job that pays you the most and teaches you the least, you're essentially cashing in your social capital before you've built any. You're selling equity in yourself at the lowest possible valuation. The money feels good for about six months and then you're right back to feeling broke because there's always someone with more.

I think we young people need to figure out our number. Earn it. Then spend our energy in those early years becoming someone people want to work with. The pay follows, I'm sure.