How much does your job actually cost?

Last winter, Jennifer and I met a woman in Paris at a little cafe near the American embassy. She was getting coffee in front of us, and we got to talking the way Americans do when we run into each other abroad.

Jennifer really chatted this lady up, and she invited us to join her as she took a seat. She talked about work, and living in Paris, and how expensive everything is in the city.

She works at the U.S. embassy, and her husband works for the State Department. Government employees. And she was carrying a handbag that sells for $6,000.

At some point, Jennifer complimented the bag. And the woman laughed back, "We're just lowly government employees, but we have to look the part."

I've thought about that a lot.

When you work at an embassy, you represent your country in important meetings and dinners with other diplomats and foreign officials. The job comes with expectations for how you present yourself. So you buy the bags, and whatever else it takes to look like you belong there. Even if the job doesn't pay you enough to belong there.

And that's not just embassy jobs. That's most jobs.

Reminds me of another story

A lifelong friend of mine is a fashion and culture journalist in Los Angeles, making $125K a year. That sounds like pretty good money until you understand what her job actually requires.

She covers fashion week, charity galas, opening nights at LACMA, Coachella, the Oscars, and more. Not as a guest of course, but as a member of the press.

She's not up for any awards, but she has to look the part. Because you don't show up to a gala in Beverly Hills wearing something from Target. And you don't network at a fashion week after-party in last season's shoes. The industry takes notice, and if you don't fit in, you don't get access. No access means no story. And the story is the job.

So she rents dresses for events, buys new shoes every season, and shops for nice handbags. She gets her hair and makeup done regularly because she can't show up looking like she just fought LA traffic for ninety minutes.

She rents a tiny apartment in West Hollywood because living in the Valley and commuting doesn't work when events run past midnight. And she has a car payment because LA without a car is basically impossible.

When I visited LA last, we were having coffee and she casually mentioned that she's delayed a dental procedure for months because she doesn't have $900 to spare.

She makes $125K, and she can't afford to go to the dentist.

I estimate she's netting around $55K after taxes and all the extraordinary extra costs of maintaining this job. And I asked her about that, about how much she's actually earning. But she's never actually added it up.

Because adding it up means facing something pretty uncomfortable.

The cost of any job

My friend's job sounds nuts when you realize all that effort goes into "getting a story." But when you think about it, regular corporate jobs are expensive to maintain too.

Working from an office, if you step out for a $5 coffee everyday, that's $100 a month. Never mind going out for lunch or after-work drinks. Then there's driving and parking, or Uber, or a monthly subway card. Maybe you've got dry cleaning or a gym membership in your office building. Maybe your dog walker comes by while you're at the office.

The price just to stroll out your front door keeps inching up. And I'm just talking about going to work to earn money.

So when you think of working as a solopreneur, you might imagine relief from the daily cost of just showing up to work.

But the spending trap will follow you

Here's something I realized after working for myself a few years: The spending traps of regular jobs will follow you into solopreneur life too.

You expect leaving corporate means you're free from all those costs. There's generally no more commute, no more work wardrobe, no more expensive apartment that has to be near the office. And that's true for a while.

But then you start spending again. Just differently.

You join a co-working space because your home office is lonely. You join the expensive networking group because that's where you think clients are. You buy the upgraded software tools because the free versions don't have the exact thing you might want someday. You redo your branding and website to appear more legit.

And before you know it, you're spending just as much as you were before. You've just traded one set of employment costs for a new set of business costs.

Because the easiest way to fail as a solopreneur isn't bad marketing or wrong positioning. That stuff can be fixed. It's outspending your earnings. Buying into the idea that you need to look successful before you actually are. That's the killer.

And I see it all the time. People leave their corporate job, get some freedom, and then immediately trap themselves again by spending money they haven't made yet on things they think they need to look the part.

It's the same trap. Just a different handbag.

What I think about now

When I left corporate six years ago, I hadn't calculated what my job was costing me.

But I did have to learn this lesson on the solopreneur side. A year into working for myself, I realized I was spending like I still had a corporate salary. I had an expensive membership to a co-working space I rarely used. I'd lost track of subscriptions to tools I only tried once. I'd joined a popular "business club" that felt more like expensive socializing than actual business.

I had unintentionally created the same expensive infrastructure I'd escaped from.

So I cut it all. And guess what? Nothing bad happened. Things actually got better because my business had a lot less financial weight to carry.

It turned out that my work didn't require all that extra stuff I initially thought was so important. In retrospect, I think I focused on it because I was uncomfortable looking like I was running a business from my kitchen table.

But working from my kitchen island was my reality. And it's what most successful solopreneurs are doing. Running businesses from their kitchens and couches and coffee shops.

The people who fail are usually the ones spending money on looking successful instead of actually being successful.

The real cost

I think about the woman in Paris a lot. And my journalist friend in LA. And everyone else spending money they don't have to look like they belong in jobs that don't pay them enough to actually belong.

Most people will never add up what their job costs them. And even when they leave to go out on their own, they won't add it up on that side either. They'll just keep spending because that's what "looking professional" has meant for so long.

"Look the part."

"Dress for the job you want, not the job you have."

But the most expensive part of any job is the stuff you never question spending money on. The handbag. The co-working space. The networking events. The new branding.

Most of it isn't necessary. It just feels like you're checking the right boxes. But actually doing the uncomfortable work that serves your customers? That's harder. So joining the co-working space feels easier.

And that avoidance will cost you.

So here's my question for you today: What are you spending money on just to look the part? Whether you're employed or working for yourself, there's something. Maybe several things.

Add them up. Find out what you're spending to look the part. I'll bet you have some fat to cut, just like I did.

So tell me, what will you stop doing or paying for? While I can't reply to everyone, I read every response, and I love hearing from you.

That's all for today.

See you next Saturday.

P.S. If handbags or clothes or cars are your "thing," then buy them. There is zero judgement here. This exercise is meant to encourage you to find things you're spending on simply because you think you need them to succeed, when in reality, you're not even interested in owning them.