Money is Not Success

(Note:  I sat to write a simple piece about defining success.  But this came out instead. Because it needed to.  Apologies in advance if I sound cold or insensitive; trust that this is something I’ve struggled, though tears, to understand.  Trigger warning: if you are sensitive about suicide, please pass on this post.)

I don’t talk about it much but I think often of a partner at a firm I used to work for.  He was imperfect but fun and he filled his projects with drama and excitement.  He was also, by all accounts, fabulously wealthy.  Partnership salary at a prestigious white shoe firm in NY.  Family money.  And in his early 50s which meant he was just getting started.

More than that, he was really fun, with the type of slow burn humor that would leave you with tears rolling down your face even hours later.  We worked on a deal, a group of us together once, at his apartment nibbling gourmet takeout at midnight.  It was equal parts exhausting and hilarious.  Last minute changes to deal terms.  Our client had fallen asleep and we sat waiting for him to wake up and call us with approvals.  During the wait, we’d flip pages on documents and talk about his travels, his adventures with his bestie, a famous director.  His love for theater and film.  His eyes (though red and sleep deprived like all of ours) lit up and he was delightful and engaging.  It seemed during those times (and when roasting clients for their outrageous demands) he was speaking in his native language.  On breaks, we’d step out to his balcony overlooking Central Park and breathe in cold NYC air.  And imagine without articulating it, living this life ourselves one day.  The fabulous view.  The travel and connections.  Ordering expensive food without concern for the bill.

He wasn’t entirely perfect.  Another time, out of the blue, he suggested I lacked the “stamina” for a career in M&A and that I should consider whether I really wanted this for my life.  The comment was deeply cutting, especially after spending months on late night calls and early morning meetings running deals for him.  Months of excellent performance and praise from clients.  Months of not seeing my infant child or my husband or my pillow.  But in hindsight I know he wasn’t talking about me at all.

I left the firm some months later and relocated to take a role that offered more of everything… except money.  It was a step down in pay and prestige but a step up in the things that make me speak in my native language.  International travel. Working in teams to solve problems for real people.  And more time with my family.  It was a hard choice to leave that much money and my hometown but I knew even then that it was not the money I was after.  It was something greater.

While at my desk in my new office I received a text from a former coworker that the partner had jumped from his balcony.  In spite of his piles of money and connections and potential.  All the things so many of us are taught to work for and that will make us successful and happy.  He was gone and with him his wild and exciting spirit.

I think about him when I’m tempted to make decisions purely for the sake of money.  Like staying in my last job instead of taking the risk to start YUBI.  Or skipping a family event so I can attend one more trade show or make one more ad.  I know that success, and more importantly the sense of fulfillment that comes from it, is largely unrelated to the number of zeros at the end of your bank statement.  It comes from the meaningful connections you make with others during your short time here.  And those meaningful connections start with sharing your authentic personality, your time and your experiences and devoting your energy to making life better for others.  Even if in the smallest way.

I will probably revise this a dozen more times before it is right.  And when it is I will probably delete it for fear that it does not paint a picture of him he may have wanted, which is what he deserves. I don’t mean to suggest he spent his life in pursuit of money.  I’m struggling to express simply that what made him truly successful had little to do with money.