This is non-flying related but I thought I'd post it here, kind of goes with many in this industry and the endless quest to move up
its long 4.5 pages but some good info:
How To Lead a Rich Life
Polly LaBarre, Fast Company magazine
2.19.2003
Can money buy happiness? ( You'd be surprised! ) What is the measure of true wealth? ( Hint: Don't look at your brokerage statement. ) Why do so many people with high incomes have such limited assets? ( Check out your garage...and your pool...and those vacation bills. ) A values-driven guide to mastering the Money Issue.
Related Resources from
Use FastCompany.com's guides to make your efforts bolder, your team better and your company faster.
Find FastCompany.com's best solutions for navigating your career, wherever you are on your path.
Read the current issue of Fast Company.
You're rich.
Well, at least well-off. I am certain of this, because the average reader of this magazine has a household income of $119,000, which puts him or her in the upper segment of the richest society in the history of the world. Maybe you don't fall into that core group. Maybe you're scanning this article in the waiting room of a doctor's office, and your household income is bit less ( or much more ) than that. Either way, relatively speaking, you're rich. Not filthy rich, but better-off than almost everyone else on the planet.
Yet -- and I am certain of this too -- you don't feel rich ( or even well-off ). Money doesn't buy what it used to. A million bucks seems more like a living wage than a small fortune. Millionaires are a dime a dozen: There are nearly 5 million households in America with a net worth of at least $1 million. Even Joe Millionaire, reality TV's latest must-see phenom, needs a faux fortune of $50 million to impress the ladies. For the average Joe, a garden-suburb mortgage, private-school tuition, an SUV in the garage, and spring break in Vail can make a six-figure salary feel like almost nothing.
Meanwhile, it's impossible to escape the barrage of images of the Rich Life, Supersized for the American Century. Even post bust and mid-recession, Bentleys, which start at $200,000, are sell-outs; Vertu cell phones cost almost $20,000; and Johnnie Walker has introduced the $180-a-bottle Blue label ( as if the Red and Black labels weren't luxurious enough ), which sells for as much as $700 a bottle in clubs. And this is what passes as scaling back for tough times: The $52,000 H2 Hummer urban-assault vehicle ( a bargain compared to the $116,000 H1 model ) is flying off of dealers' lots.
The desire for more is the most powerful drive in our culture. It's in the DNA of democracy and at the heart of the American Dream: Every person gets an equal chance to make it, and it's our responsibility to take it. Of late, that drive has produced an ethnography of excess -- books such as Juliet Schor's The Overspent American, Robert Frank's Luxury Fever, and even Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation. These accounts of the rich and spendthrift point to one big question: What does all that income and spending add up to? A lot of nothing, it turns out. One of the more shocking measures of our "prosperity" is the fact that the United States spends more on trash bags than 90 other countries spend on everything. In other words, the receptacles of our waste cost more than all of the goods consumed by nearly half of the world's nations.
The cost of our wealth to other societies and the environment has been well documented. But the greatest toll might be on ourselves. Between 1970 and 1999, the average American family received a 16% raise ( adjusted for inflation ), while the percentage of people who described themselves as "very happy" fell from 36% to 29%. We are better paid, better fed, and better educated than ever. Yet the divorce rate has doubled, the teen-suicide rate has tripled, and depression has soared in the past 30 years. The conclusion is inescapable: Our lifestyles are packed with more stuff, but we lead emptier lives. We're consuming more but enjoying it less.
cont'd in next post
its long 4.5 pages but some good info:
How To Lead a Rich Life
Polly LaBarre, Fast Company magazine
2.19.2003
Can money buy happiness? ( You'd be surprised! ) What is the measure of true wealth? ( Hint: Don't look at your brokerage statement. ) Why do so many people with high incomes have such limited assets? ( Check out your garage...and your pool...and those vacation bills. ) A values-driven guide to mastering the Money Issue.
Related Resources from
Use FastCompany.com's guides to make your efforts bolder, your team better and your company faster.
Find FastCompany.com's best solutions for navigating your career, wherever you are on your path.
Read the current issue of Fast Company.
You're rich.
Well, at least well-off. I am certain of this, because the average reader of this magazine has a household income of $119,000, which puts him or her in the upper segment of the richest society in the history of the world. Maybe you don't fall into that core group. Maybe you're scanning this article in the waiting room of a doctor's office, and your household income is bit less ( or much more ) than that. Either way, relatively speaking, you're rich. Not filthy rich, but better-off than almost everyone else on the planet.
Yet -- and I am certain of this too -- you don't feel rich ( or even well-off ). Money doesn't buy what it used to. A million bucks seems more like a living wage than a small fortune. Millionaires are a dime a dozen: There are nearly 5 million households in America with a net worth of at least $1 million. Even Joe Millionaire, reality TV's latest must-see phenom, needs a faux fortune of $50 million to impress the ladies. For the average Joe, a garden-suburb mortgage, private-school tuition, an SUV in the garage, and spring break in Vail can make a six-figure salary feel like almost nothing.
Meanwhile, it's impossible to escape the barrage of images of the Rich Life, Supersized for the American Century. Even post bust and mid-recession, Bentleys, which start at $200,000, are sell-outs; Vertu cell phones cost almost $20,000; and Johnnie Walker has introduced the $180-a-bottle Blue label ( as if the Red and Black labels weren't luxurious enough ), which sells for as much as $700 a bottle in clubs. And this is what passes as scaling back for tough times: The $52,000 H2 Hummer urban-assault vehicle ( a bargain compared to the $116,000 H1 model ) is flying off of dealers' lots.
The desire for more is the most powerful drive in our culture. It's in the DNA of democracy and at the heart of the American Dream: Every person gets an equal chance to make it, and it's our responsibility to take it. Of late, that drive has produced an ethnography of excess -- books such as Juliet Schor's The Overspent American, Robert Frank's Luxury Fever, and even Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation. These accounts of the rich and spendthrift point to one big question: What does all that income and spending add up to? A lot of nothing, it turns out. One of the more shocking measures of our "prosperity" is the fact that the United States spends more on trash bags than 90 other countries spend on everything. In other words, the receptacles of our waste cost more than all of the goods consumed by nearly half of the world's nations.
The cost of our wealth to other societies and the environment has been well documented. But the greatest toll might be on ourselves. Between 1970 and 1999, the average American family received a 16% raise ( adjusted for inflation ), while the percentage of people who described themselves as "very happy" fell from 36% to 29%. We are better paid, better fed, and better educated than ever. Yet the divorce rate has doubled, the teen-suicide rate has tripled, and depression has soared in the past 30 years. The conclusion is inescapable: Our lifestyles are packed with more stuff, but we lead emptier lives. We're consuming more but enjoying it less.
cont'd in next post
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