Welcome to Money Philosophy, where we’re unpacking the personal, emotional, and cultural forces that shape how Gen Z women think about money. We’re asking real women to reflect on the why behind their financial decisions—not just the what.
Today: a 22-year-old software engineer based in New York City earning $185,000 a year with $120,000 saved up. In this conversation, she reflects on the inner conflict of having wealth while staying frugal, how childhood scarcity shaped her mindset, and why she now spends freely on travel, experiences, and healing her inner child—while still grappling with guilt, boundaries, and ambition.
Age: 22
Net Worth (Assets & Debt): $120,000
Salary (or Primary Income Source): $185,000 in total compensation
Region: New York City
Industry: Technology
Recently, I bought a $30 bottle of lotion at Urban Outfitters. My friend and I spent like 20 minutes weighing the pros and cons, but it smelled so good and I loved it. So I bought it.
What comes to mind when you think about money?
Conflict. That’s honestly the first word I think of—conflict both internally and externally. Internally, I’m constantly second-guessing how I should be spending, saving, or even thinking about money. And externally, money always shows up in relationships—whether with family, friends, or partners.
Sometimes I feel guilt. Like, I make a pretty good salary, I’ve saved a decent amount for my age, but I still want more. And then I feel bad about wanting more. I remember once ranting about my job offer being lower than I was hoping, to friends who didn’t even have jobs yet, and afterward I was like, oh my god, that was so tone deaf.
I don’t want to come across as greedy or stingy, especially because I’m really frugal. That combo—having money but still being frugal—feels really icky.
Have you tried to reframe how you think about money or how you present yourself?
I don’t think I present myself poorly or like, make people feel bad. I’m not one of those people who’s like, splitting the check down to the last penny—we usually just take turns paying. But I get self-conscious when people know how much I make.
One time while traveling, I messaged my boyfriend complaining about getting overcharged two euros for a bus ticket. He was like, “You make so much—why does it matter?” And I get it! But still—it’s the principle. I think about money in units, not percentages of my income. Like, I still try to live like a normal 22-year-old. Just because I make more doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t care about being overcharged.
Have has your view on money changed over time?
I’ve definitely become more relaxed. Having a full-time job with a consistent paycheck has made a huge difference. Every two weeks, $4,500 just magically shows up in my account. The stability has honestly been life-changing. And I work at a super stable company—no layoffs ever—so I feel like if I wanted to, I could just stay forever and always have that financial safety net.
Now I let myself splurge every once in a while. I used to overthink every expense. Like, I would literally debate for way too long about whether to get Popeyes or just make a sandwich at home. And Popeyes is, what, $14? It’s not that deep.
Recently, I bought a $30 bottle of lotion at Urban Outfitters. My friend and I spent like 20 minutes weighing the pros and cons, but it smelled so good and I loved it. So I bought it.
The biggest change though? Realizing that money doesn’t fix everything. When I was 19 and interning, I got a paycheck with a $5,000 bonus on top of my regular pay, so it totaled $10,000. And instead of feeling excited, I cried. Like, I cried all day.
I had about $30,000 saved at the time, and it just hit me—this money couldn’t undo the years when I didn’t have trendy clothes or get the things I really wanted as a kid. That little girl who made wish lists and hoped for stuff… but never got those things. And I just realized in that moment even though I had a lot of money, she never will.
Someone suggested I start doing things my inner child would have loved. That idea was so sweet—it really stuck with me. So I did. I bought sparkly things, ice cream, and I booked a trip to Europe. I’d always dreamed of going to Paris -which i know is super basic- so I went on a europe tour. It was amazing.
Since then, I’ve spent about $30,000 on travel. I’ve been to 30 countries. And honestly, that’s what makes me happy. I realized some things really are worth spending a lot of money on. That was a huge mindset shift for me.
Another example—at one point, [my parents] asked me to loan them $30,000 to help with their house. And that was basically all the money I had. I had been saving from internships and planning to use that money for grad school. But they were building a nice house in a nice neighbourhood, and I just kept thinking: can you even afford this?
Do you think your personal experiences or cultural background influenced your perspective on money?
Yeah, I would say my background has had a bit of an effect—mostly from watching what I don’t want. I don’t even really know what I want my money to do for me yet. Like, I don’t know if I want to retire early. I kind of want to just travel full-time for a few years while I’m still young because I really love it.
But I’ve always felt confused by the way my parents spent money. They’re very image-driven. Like, here’s a funny example: before my first year of university, we were shopping for socks and I picked out these cute pastel ones—totally my vibe. And my parents were like, “No, no, get the Calvin Klein socks. You want people to see your socks and know you come from a good home.”
That moment has always stuck with me. They have a very specific idea of what success looks like, and they really try to project that through spending. Meanwhile, I’ve always been super averse to designer brands or doing something just because everyone else is doing it.
I actually used to be proud of how little I was spending—especially on rent. Before I moved into my current place, I was living in a grungier neighbourhood with three roommates, while most of my coworkers were paying triple my rent. And I liked being that person. I liked projecting a little bit of struggle, if that makes sense. Like, not fitting the tech girl cookie-cutter mold, which I know is totally obnoxious to people living that life out of necessity.
But yeah, I think a lot of that came from watching my parents spend beyond their means to maintain an image. There were times when it made me feel frustrated. Like when I was applying to universities—I wasn’t sure I’d get enough scholarships to go to my dream school. My parents always said they’d pay for me to go to university in our home province, but anything out-of-province was too expensive, especially with housing.
And that same year, my mom bought a brand-new car. I remember being so upset because I’d gotten into my dream school, and it felt like they were always telling me to work hard—but when I did, they couldn’t support it. I literally could have slacked off and partied throughout high school, gone to the local school, and ended up in the same situation.
We talked about the car years later, and they didn’t even realize I felt that way. But it was just one of those moments.
Another example—at one point, they asked me to loan them $30,000 to help with their house. And that was basically all the money I had. I had been saving from internships and planning to use that money for grad school. But they were building a nice house in a nice neighbourhood, and I just kept thinking: can you even afford this?
They said they’d pay me back, but… I don’t know. My dad’s borrowed like $20 before and never paid it back, so I didn’t trust that. I ended up saying no. It was really stressful. My mom didn’t talk to me for a month. My dad took it better—he said he still loved me, that they were still my parents, which honestly meant a lot. But the guilt really stuck with me.
Especially because, at the time, I was making about the same from internships as they were making full-time. And they’ve been working for decades. It’s just the nature of tech salaries and where I was interning, but yeah… that contrast was hard to sit with.
That whole situation really shaped how I think about financial boundaries. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I never want to rely on my kids. Ever. I don’t want to borrow a cent from them. I want to be able to provide everything they need—pay for their university, down payment and maybe even travel expenses for a big backpacking trip. I decided pretty young that I would never have kids unless I could give them that kind of stable foundation.
And I know it might sound entitled to expect your parents to pay for stuff like school. But the thing is, their parents paid for their education and financially supported them into adulthood. So it just feels weird that in our case, the script flipped—and I’m the one they expect to support them financially.
What was your first job, and what did it teach you about money?
My first job wasn’t a formal job, but my high school had a peer tutoring program. You could tutor other students over lunch and get paid based on your grade level—so $11/hour if you were in grade 11, $12/hour if you were in grade 12. I tutored computer science and math because those were the subjects I loved and the ones people needed the most help with.
That was the first money I ever made. My parents didn’t want me to work—they always wanted me to focus on school. But if I ever needed money, they’d give it to me. I didn’t have to worry about shopping for back-to-school clothes or getting my hair done. Even just going out for Starbucks with friends—my dad would usually slip me a little cash.
So making my own money felt really exciting. I saved every single dollar—I didn’t spend any of it. That’s probably when the whole hoarding thing started. I was like, this is extra money I can hold on to for when I need it—like applying to university, or anything related to school.
I was really paranoid about not getting scholarships. My parents earned too much to qualify for government support, so I knew I wouldn’t get need-based aid. Everything would have to come out of pocket unless I got merit-based scholarships. I even ran one of those financial aid calculators, and it said I’d get zero dollars. So yeah, I started saving everything. That was the beginning of me becoming really conservative with money.
Do you think your habit of hoarding money came from that awareness around education costs and needing a safety net?
Yeah, thinking about it now, I just knew that if I didn’t have enough money to pay for university, I’d have to stay in my hometown. And at that time in my life, that felt like the absolute worst thing that could happen to me.
I remember having a 98% in my honours math class, and I still wanted to do the makeup test, which was usually to help people who bombed a test avoid impacting their final grade. But I wanted to try to get my final grade to a 99%. My teacher was like, “[name], please just go home and watch a movie.” But I did the makeup test anyway.
That’s really self-aware. Most kids don’t connect those dots that young. How do you think you developed that mindset?
Honestly, I think it’s because I’ve always wanted more. I’ve always been ambitious—but not always in a good way. That ambition used to come with a lot of mental stress. I was just never satisfied with anything.
My parents worked really hard to get us to Canada, and for them, that was the goal. They were like, “We did it. You have so many more opportunities than we did.” And they believed all schools here were good schools. They didn’t really understand rankings or prestige. I’d explain that some universities were more competitive or prestigious, and they’d just go, “Is it that important though?”
So I realized early on that if I wanted to go to a certain school or live a certain life, it was going to be up to me. They weren’t going to push me or help me make that happen.
I remember having a 98% in my honours math class, and I still wanted to do the makeup test, which was usually to help people who bombed a test avoid impacting their final grade. But I wanted to try to get my final grade to a 99%. My teacher was like, “[name], please just go home and watch a movie.” But I did the makeup test anyway.
Everyone around me kept saying, “You’re doing fine,” or “You don’t need to do more,” but I just felt like no one really got me. I wanted more for myself, and it felt like I was the only one who understood or cared about those goals. So I started relying only on myself.
Do you support anyone financially? How do you balance that with your own goals?
No, not really. I do buy my siblings presents and I take that very seriously, but I wouldn’t say anyone’s financially dependent on me.
I usually allocate about $100 per birthday. I try to give them gifts that are thoughtful—like things that could spark an interest or a hobby. I’ve given ukuleles, art supplies, a camera—just stuff that isn’t screen-based. I honestly just feel like they watch too much TV, so I’m always trying to encourage more hands-on things.
I got a full-ride merit-based scholarship to university that totaled about $100,000. That’s the reason I have zero debt, so yeah—that was pretty huge. It covered tuition, housing, food—everything. Although I withdrew from all the scholarships I applied to once I got notified of the full-ride I also got a few extra automatic grade-based/leadership scholarships, like checks for a few thousand dollars, which I just saved.
Have you received financial gifts or inheritance?
I got a full-ride merit-based scholarship to university that totaled about $100,000. That’s the reason I have zero debt, so yeah—that was pretty huge. It covered tuition, housing, food—everything. Although I withdrew from all the scholarships I applied to once I got notified of the full-ride I also got a few extra automatic grade-based/leadership scholarships, like checks for a few thousand dollars, which I just saved.
It gave me so much peace of mind. I graduated high school in 2020, so I started university during COVID. Even though everything was online, I still chose to live on campus—which was expensive—but I didn’t have to think about it because everything was covered.
A lot of my friends were super upset about the quality of Zoom lectures and how much they were paying, and I just didn’t really care. I just thought, “I’m here for free, so it’s fine.” I don’t think I’ve ever fully grasped how expensive university is for most people.
I’d always live in the nicest dorms because it didn’t matter—I wasn’t paying. I’d swipe people in at the dining hall all the time. I wasn’t looking at my balance like, “Can I afford this?” It was just… not real money to me. People would thank me for covering lunch at the dining hall and I’d be like, “Oh don’t worry about it at all!” because to me it really didn’t feel like spending anything.
So yeah, I think even now I don’t really understand the full financial burden most people associate with school.
What experiences shaped your mindset around money? Was there a turning point?
Yeah, I think that moment when I was 19, crying over not having trendy clothes as a kid, really stands out. I know it sounds dramatic—like, “boo-hoo, you didn’t have the trendy clothes at age ten”—but it still felt real. My parents made a decent income, definitely above average, but they didn’t spend money in a way that gave me whatever I wanted.
Before we moved to Canada, they kind of did say yes to everything, so I think I developed a sense of entitlement I’ve been trying to unlearn. That meltdown at 19 made me realize I’m in a really privileged position now, and I have the power to make my life as idyllic as I want it to be. So now I’m just figuring out how to spend in a way that feels fulfilling, not performative.
I don’t want to spend money for approval the way I feel my parents sometimes did. But I also don’t want to hoard wealth, especially given how much I make. I try to give when I can—like to people on the street if I have cash on me—and I donate to charity. I don’t want to be seen as greedy or disconnected, especially because I’ve definitely had moments where I acted weird about money and felt ashamed after.
That was the moment I started thinking about money more philosophically instead of just being hypervigilant. It helped me gain more perspective.
What’s the most difficult financial decision you’ve made? How did you approach it? Do you regret it?
Spending money on my first Europe trip. It cost $6,000, not including flights, and at that point, the most I’d ever spent on something was maybe $100—on my little sister’s birthday gift. I agonized over it for weeks. That leap from $100 to $6,000 was massive.
And yeah, it’s gotten easier. My next trip cost three times as much, and I was fine with it. I think that first trip broke the mental block.
What was going through your head when you were debating spending the money?
It wasn’t guilt—it was more about the numbers. I was so attached to my bank balance. I just didn’t want it to go down. I’ve always been fixated on numbers. Like in middle school, I had a bad eating disorder, and it wasn’t about how I looked—it was the scale. I didn’t want to see three digits. So the farther away I got from reaching that number the safer I felt. Same with grades. I had a 98% and wanted a 99% cause it felt like a nicer, more impressive number. It’s the same with money—I just want to see the numbers go up.
And working in tech makes it so easy to save. Free food, paid housing and transit during internships—I could avoid spending money completely if I wanted to. So yeah, dropping thousands at once felt unbearable at first.
How do you decide what’s worth spending or saving for? What do you never hesitate to spend on? Any regrets?
I’ve started to form a bit of a life philosophy around that. I try not to spend money in a hedonistic way—no immediate gratification. If it’s a material thing, I give myself time to sit with the desire. If I still want it later, I’ll buy it.
But with experiences, it’s different. After that first Europe trip, I realized how much I value traveling. I remember being on a tour bus in Prague, looking at the buildings and crying because they were so beautiful. I was just hit with this feeling of wonder, like, “Wow, this all exists and I hadn’t seen any of it until today.”
That’s what drives my spending—newness, novelty, discovery. I want to learn something, see something unexpected, come away with a story. That’s worth the money to me.
So I won’t spend $75 on a New Year’s Eve rooftop party in New York—I know what that’s like, it’s like a rooftop party any other day that’s usually free if you’re a girl. But I’d happily spend $30,000 to go to Antarctica. I have no idea what’s going on in Antarctica, and that makes it exciting.
Do you regret spending money on anything?
Honestly, yeah—the first Europe trip. Not because I regret traveling, but because of the way I did it. It was through a tourism group with mostly young adults, and it felt so touristy. We weren’t really immersed in the cultures of the places we visited. It was a lot of partying and drama, kind of like high school on a tour bus.
I’m glad I got to see those countries, but I wish I’d spent that money planning my own trip in a way that actually aligned with what I enjoy—something more active, more immersive. Since then, I’ve mostly done solo backpacking and it’s been way more fulfilling.
What role does money play in your life? Is it a means to an end or something deeper?
It’s both. I used to tie so much of my self-worth to my career, but now I see my job as a way to exercise my brain and earn money, and money as a way to create a life I love. Novel experiences often aren’t cheap, so in that sense, it’s a means to an end.
But it’s also deeper. My parents don’t financially support me, and I don’t expect any kind of inheritance, so anything I want in life—I have to make that happen. I guess there’s always the option of marrying rich haha, but I’ve never prioritized that. I’ve always known it’s on me to build the life I want.
Definitely not. No. I wouldn’t keep working, at least not in an office. I’d want to work on my own projects, learn how to paint, sew, garden, and help out in my community. I accidentally went to a water aerobics class once on a Monday afternoon during a long weekend with a bunch of sweet old women and it was such a fun, random experience. I really want to hang out with them again but I can’t because I work on Mondays. I’d do stuff like that—things I don’t have time for now.
Has social media influenced your views on money? Do you feel pressure or comparison?
Not really. I got into personal finance at 14 or 15 from watching Dave Ramsey. I thought he was the coolest person ever. I didn’t even know what compound interest was before that! I was obsessed and made all my friends watch his videos with me.
Because of that, I internalized a super strict, no-debt mindset. No credit cards until I was 18. I thought I’d save up to buy a house in full, because he’s even against mortgages. It was extreme, but it gave me structure.
Social media never really impacted how I spend. I barely use it. But I will say that reading the Money Diaries series helped soften my views. It showed me a more holistic, empathetic way to think about money. That’s when I started drifting away from the old-school “boomer” advice and embracing nuance. Like—it’s okay to buy a coffee sometimes. That doesn’t make you irresponsible.
If money were no object, how would your life change? Would you continue working?
Definitely not. No. I wouldn’t keep working, at least not in an office. I’d want to work on my own projects, learn how to paint, sew, garden, and help out in my community. I accidentally went to a water aerobics class once on a monday afternoon during a long weekend with a bunch of sweet older women and it was such a fun, random experience. I really want to hang out with them again but I can’t because I work on Mondays. I’d do stuff like that—things I don’t have time for now.
I’d travel full-time, hang out with my siblings and grandma. Just live on my own terms.
What do you wish more people understood about money?
Honestly, I don’t feel like I have the authority to tell others how to think about money. But I wish I had understood sooner that money isn’t just about me.
I used to be really self-centred and entitled, and while I always knew I was better off than a lot of people, I wasn’t as empathetic as I thought. I had everything I needed. Maybe not everything I wanted, but definitely everything I needed. I wish I’d talked less about what I lacked and just appreciated that more.
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