A Week In Memphis, TN On A $176,000 Joint Income

Occupation: Clinical pharmacist
Industry: Healthcare
Age: 30
Location: Memphis, TN
Salary: $123,000
Joint income: $176,000. My partner is a high school teacher and makes around $53,000 annually. I’ve listed my diary as a joint salary because we split rent, bills, and expenses like groceries evenly (but I have only tracked my spending for the week). Other costs — going out, activities, vacations, etc — are split just depending on how we feel. I take on more of those costs since I make significantly more money.
Assets: I have a car that was paid off by my parents. My savings are about $85,000.
Debt: $0 (My parents paid what wasn’t covered by scholarships, for which I am infinitely thankful!).
Paycheck Amount (Every 2 Weeks): $3,300
Pronouns: She/her

Monthly Expenses

Housing Costs: We rent a two-bedroom, two-bath single family home for $1,250 a month. Memphis’ cost of living is relatively low, and we don’t live in the hippest neighborhood. It’s the kind of place where you hear gunshots in the distance often, but I have rarely felt unsafe here.
Monthly Loan Payments: $0
Utilities: $120-$200 (split with my partner).
Health Insurance: $200
Therapy: $300
Car Insurance: $170
Internet: $130 (split with my partner).
Phone: I’m on my parents’ phone plan.
Streaming/Subscriptions: I use my partner’s streaming subscriptions. The only subscription I have is $5 a month towards an email newsletter about cheap flights.

Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
College and grad school were never a question in our family. It was definitely an expectation that we would go to medical school or something similar. I went to undergraduate on a good scholarship, though not full. In pharmacy school I only had a small scholarship in the latter half — my parents were able to pay the rest. This left me with no debt entering the workforce, which is incredibly rare in my field.

Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances?
My parents were, and are, obsessed with finances. They’re immigrants who became small business owners while I was in high school. Growing up, they talked about money constantly. They stressed the importance of living frugally and saving as much as possible. We ate at restaurants twice a year. My parents also did a lot of their own learning about different savings accounts and investment options. Now, they act almost as my financial managers and advise me on where to put my savings. However, I have a very different view of money due to my leftist politics, and try to balance my values while setting myself up for a comfortable future.

What was your first job and why did you get it?
I got my first job when I was 16 as a hostess at a sushi restaurant in my hometown. I wanted to make some spending money and get out of the house.

Did you worry about money growing up?
Yes. My parents are immigrants and were small business owners most of my life. While there were times we did well, there were also many years where business was in the red and we only seemed to lose money. My parents struggled with bouts of depression during these slim phases. I came to the early realization that wealth was volatile and fleeting.

Do you worry about money now?
I feel very free to spend on day-to-day purchases now, given my steady income. Generally, I worry about over-indulging (lifestyle creep) and not saving enough to have a secure future. My entire generation grew up in the midst of the collapse of social safety nets and a meteoric rise of wealth inequality, so I feel very uncertain about the future. I have never had as much money as I do now, and worry about spending it in a way that reflects my values and shares my resources. At the same time, I am a Libra who loves expensive clothes, nice things, and a good time.

At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?
I became financially responsible for myself once I graduated pharmacy school and entered residency, where I was making $57,000. My parents are still my financial safety net. My partner would also help support me, if it came to that.

Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain.
I do not get passive income. In college, my parents sent me rent and bill money from the interest payments off their savings.

8:30 a.m — My boyfriend, S., makes us coffee at home each morning. He does this regularly, ever since I mentioned that it would brighten my day. Always ask for what you want! I wake up and prepare my thermos with a splash of nondairy creamer. The commute to work is seven minutes of driving and another seven minutes walking from the garage to my office. At work, I sip on the coffee while reviewing patients for the day.

3 p.m. — I usually try to eat around 11 a.m. because my work picks up around noon when patients start getting discharged from the hospital. Didn’t make it before the rush today. For my late lunch, I scarf down a couple slices of leftover pizza from yesterday. Afterwards, I’m craving something sweet, so I go by the hospital cafeteria and purchase a peach Chobani yogurt drink and a package of strawberry Pop-Tarts. I eat one Pop-Tarts and save the other for tomorrow. $6

5:30 p.m. — I cancel our meal delivery box subscription and sign up for another similar service to take advantage of the first-time user discount. My plan is to cancel, switch, and resubscribe every few months to get maximum discounts. I pay $23.44 for next week’s box of two meals. $23.44

8 p.m. — In my off-time I am also an unpaid housing organizer for a local grassroots tenants union. We have our weekly two-hour Zoom meeting at 8 p.m. While I’m on Zoom, S. makes us dinner from this week’s meal box delivery and I eat it while finishing up the meeting. Despite being so tired after a full day of work, these calls always leave me feeling hopeful and invigorated. The other organizers and tenants in the union inspire me with their dedication to the fight.

8 a.m — I wake up to one of my two cats pawing at my face. He likes to nip at my ankles and generally harass me while I get ready in the morning. I give them each a scoop of wet cat food to buy myself some peace. Finally, I head to the hospital with coffee in hand. 

11 a.m. — I manage to get lunch before the noon rush. I get a bowl of turkey chili and a piece of cornbread for lunch from the nearby university’s food court. I finish eating just in time before the discharge orders come in. I spend the next few hours educating patients on their medications, coordinating with doctors, and making phone calls to resolve medication access issues. Talking to patients is the best part of my job, and navigating insurance is the worst. $9.31

6 p.m — After running around all day at work, I’m beat. At home, I scroll TikTok and have an after-work cigarette. This is a bad habit, I know. I’ve cut down to only one cigarette a day, if any. I remember in college another student asked our professor why some doctors still smoke, and his response was “Well, they don’t do it for their health.” After my nicotine indulgence I lay down for a nap. Two habits I can’t seem to quit.

7 p.m — For dinner, I microwave some leftover biryani from a couple days ago. S. orders chicken wings for delivery for his dinner. We sit and watch basketball together on TV. If you would have told me a few years ago that I would willingly watch a sports game, I wouldn’t have believed you, but Memphis’s underdog energy is contagious, and rooting for the Grizzlies has made me feel more a part of the community. S. has always been a basketball fan and loves that we can share this now. It’s way more exciting to see the games in person — which I treat myself to every couple of months — but tonight we just settle for watching them on TV.

12 a.m — I wash my face, slap on some skincare, and get into bed. I browse social media for who knows how long. Then I put on a podcast, hoping it will lure me to sleep. It isn’t until S. comes to bed that I feel able to fall asleep.

11 a.m. — Lunch from the cafeteria again — this time it’s orange chicken and fried rice. I look for a drink to wash it down with, but want to avoid any Coca Cola products in support of a boycott. I spend several minutes googling all the beverage options, and eventually land on a PureLeaf iced tea. As a long-time Coke Zero girlie, I’m proud of my restraint. $14

1:30 p.m. — S. texts me that he is paying our utilities and internet bill for the month. I’m terrible at managing bills and remembering to pay on time, so he’s been handling the bills ever since we moved in together. He CashApp requests me for my half. Utilities is $74.50 each, and internet is $72.71 each (covered in monthly expenses). I make a note to myself to find a cheaper internet plan soon.

4 p.m. — It’s a slow day at work, so I take a break to tend to some personal tasks. Back in October I visited a friend in New Orleans for Halloween and accidentally left my makeup bag at his house. Makeup is such a personal thing, and once you finally find products that work for you it can be really disorienting to be without. At least it has been for me. I create a shipping label so my friend could mail it back to me. I added the option to send him a box to ship it in to make it easier. I then browse Amazon looking at children’s books to get for my friend’s kid’s upcoming birthday. After looking through about 20 titles, I decide to get one about the shirtwaist makers’ strike of 1909 and another about the Greensboro civil rights sit-ins. Clearly, I have an agenda. I feel confident her social-justice minded parents will appreciate them, too. Unable to access my boyfriend’s Amazon Prime account until he verifies the annoying two-factor authentication, I hold off on submitting the order.  $10.80

5:30 p.m. — I go to therapy for an hour. I just started this therapy thing recently, so we are on an every-other-week schedule. I’ve had bad experiences with therapists in the past, but this one has been understanding and open so far. Plus, she utilizes art therapy sometimes, which I’ve found helpful both for processing and scratching a small creative itch. Since it’s the holidays, we talk mainly about my relationship with my parents and brother and how to enforce my boundaries while visiting home. Leaving therapy, I feel some doubt about how successful I will be at applying the CBT techniques we discussed. $150

6:30 p.m. — On the way home, I stop for gas and a pack of cigarettes. $41.06

7:30 p.m. — I drop by a pop-up bookstore near my house and spend 45 minutes flipping through art books. I’m hoping to find a good present for my friend who is a photojournalist in the city. After comparing all the photography books I can find, I pick one that stands out in its focus on Mexican immigrant communities and its use of portraiture. The work seems similar to my friend’s. I see that this same friend has some photo zines for sale at the checkout counter. The owner rings me out and we both gush over our talented mutual friend. I mention that my purchase was for her and he agrees that she’ll like it, which brings me great relief. It’s hard buying art for an artist! $54.88

9 p.m. — It’s Friday night, so S. and I get dinner and cocktails at a nice, cozy bar. I’m fond of this particular place because it reminds me of bars in New Orleans, where I used to live. S. orders a glass of pinot noir, but when asked for more specifics he admits to not having enough knowledge to be discerning. The person taking our order happens to be the owner, who also happens to be a wine connoisseur. He proceeds to give us a mini lesson and treats us to a flight of pinot noirs, walking us through how to describe the aspects we liked and didn’t like. S. decides he likes the fruitier, more acidic ones. We learn that these are typically from warmer climates. I appreciate how practical and unpretentious the lesson was. In the owner’s words: “I can get nerdy about it, but you don’t need to be an expert to know what you like to drink.” For food, we each get a burger and fries. S. foots the bill for this one, which comes to $157.36. We run into my photographer friend who I bought the book for, but I resist the strong urge to spoil the surprise. We go to her house afterwards to hang out with her, her friends, and her dogs. She has recently rescued the cutest teddy-bear looking puppy, who quickly becomes the focal point of the rest of the evening.

1 a.m. — A little bit tipsy and having gone without a nap today, I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

11 a.m. — I wake up late and spend a couple of hours in bed, luxuriating in a lazy Saturday morning. Then, S. and I finally start the day by going to Scooter’s, a chain drive-thru coffee place. I get a peach smoothie with added energy boost, and a breakfast sausage burrito. S. gets a black coffee, a caramel apple shake, and a sausage, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel. He pays for breakfast, which comes to $27.11 for both of our orders. 

1 p.m. — I wanted to make some handmade Christmas gifts for my co-organizers in the tenants union, so we drive to a pottery painting place. My vision seemed simple enough: plates with maroon red borders around the rim and an inspiring quote painted in light blue in the center. Per usual, I completely underestimate how long this would take. It takes me three hours to paint four plates, at $25 each. S. paints a mug inspired by Rothko, one of his favorite painters (and a design he felt would not require too much skill). While my hand is getting tired of painting letters for the plates, I feel so happy to be doing something creative. It’s not something I get enough of in my life these days. At home I have dozens of unfinished craft projects. Making gifts for others is the motivation I need to actually set aside time to exercise my artistic side. I pay for my plates and S.’ mug. It’ll be a week until they are fired and ready. I’m anxious to see how they turn out. S. reassures me that if they are imperfect, that’s all part of the charm. (Update: The colors, which were burgundy and baby blue, looked great! I did a quote in the middle of each plate, and the first one was tidy and centered but the text got bigger and less well spaced as I went on. It certainly looked handmade, which my friends found charming, fortunately!) $137.19

4:30 p.m — My friend and fellow tenant organizer calls me to plan for a meeting we are hosting next week with other housing organizations in Memphis. We are hoping to spearhead a shared campaign to tackle city tax-breaks for slumlords. We spend two hours debating various goals and structures for this meeting. While on the phone we start a draft agenda on Google Docs. It’s far from finished, so we make a plan to get together in a couple days to continue working on it.

9 p.m. — S. heads out to meet up with his friends. I reheat the remainder of my burger from the other night for dinner. I then shower and get ready, playing the Home Cooking podcast the entire time because I am uncomfortable with silence when I’m home alone. I meet up with my friends for some drinks at a local dive. We discuss stressors at work. A friend mentions she wants to move to Germany by the summer. My friends with the baby and I talk about how to juggle organizing and activism with parenting. For the past year I have been preoccupied with motherhood, though I don’t plan on having kids for a few more years. Mainly, I worry about losing my sense of self. After this conversation I’m not entirely consoled, but it’s encouraging to see that my friends seem to be excelling at being new parents and maintaining their identities. I get a mezcal paloma, which was so good that I get another. $33.59

11 p.m. — My friends and I then head to another bar to catch the second half of a music show. Serendipitously, I run into an acquaintance outside. He’s playing in one of the bands tonight, and on our way in he puts me on the list, saving me the $10 cover fee. Here, I have my go-to drink: a whiskey and ginger beer. $12

12:30 a.m — I text S. on my way home. He and his buddies are at a juke joint that’s actually a block from our house. I stop in. It’s mostly empty except for a couple of groups. I join in on the dance floor. At this point the live band is done, and they are piping in classic bump-and-grind hits over the speakers. A woman comes by and demonstrates to me how I should be dancing, which involves a lot more close contact than I had been doing. I try to follow her lead but find that I’ve been out of practice for a while. After a couple of songs, S. and I call it a night and head home.

10 a.m — Every Sunday I get up and consider how clean my house would be and much more relaxed I’d be if I could have Sundays off for chores, brunch, reading, etc. But Sundays are for the tenant union. S. and I spend some time laying in bed and lamenting the news coming across on our phones. I microwave one of my mom’s pork buns that I keep in the freezer, and enjoy some alone time while watching an episode of Queer Eye.

1 p.m. — The organizers convene at a coffee shop to plan for our later meeting with the residents that we have been working with. I get an iced coffee to prepare for the long day. $6.94

3 p.m. — We head to the apartment building to meet with the tenant union members there. It’s a difficult meeting today. The residents are fed up with their hot water going off on the weekends during the winter. People are on edge and distracted rather than focused. Despite this, we come up with a plan together to get management to fix the issue.

6 p.m. — After the meeting, the organizers debrief over dinner. Today it’s a steaming bowl of Vietnamese bun bo hue — my ideal meal on a cold winter’s night. Some of the tension from the meeting bleeds over into our debrief. Fingers get pointed, assumptions made, and feelings hurt. But we continue to talk it out until the root of the problem becomes clear. One thing being an organizer with this group has taught me is how to handle conflict directly and with honesty, grace, and intention. $28.54

8:30 a.m — Back at work now. Mondays are usually pretty busy. I try to catch up on things that happened over the weekend. I familiarize myself with patients that were discharged over the weekend, double-check to ensure nothing was missed, and follow up on any outstanding items. One of my long-time patients comes in this morning complaining of an issue with his blood sugar meter. We troubleshoot this together. Before he leaves, I ask him to demonstrate how to replace it himself. 

12 p.m — I eat my leftover fried rice from Friday while reviewing the day’s clinic patients and ordering lab work. I see patients on Monday afternoons to manage their diabetes, blood pressure, or blood thinner medications. I look forward to this part of each week. Surprisingly, almost all of my patients show up today. 

6:30 p.m. — After work, my friend and I meet up at yet another coffee shop to do more work for the housing organization. We continue to prepare for the big meeting happening next weekend. For dinner, I get a cup of tomato soup, fries, and a LaCroix. My friend gets a turkey sandwich and a LaCroix as well. I pay for us both. We take a walk after and discuss the conflict that arose at debrief yesterday. Feelings are still tender, and he expresses immense guilt about what was said the night before. I try to be reassuring. Outside of the whole-group dynamic, we’re able to be more candid with one another. As we’re walking between the downtown buildings, the conversation moves to other topics: someone he’s meeting up with from Instagram, current events, gossip about our friends. The tension from the previous night finally seems to dissolve.  $36.23

9 p.m. — On the way home, I stop at the grocery store to pick up a few odds and ends: salads for S.’ work lunches, toilet paper, coffee creamer, and some medication. When I get home I see that our meal boxes for the week have been delivered. This reminds me that I still need to cook last week’s. $50.57

11 a.m. — It’s been cold and rainy most of the week, so for lunch I get soup again. This time it’s chicken and wild rice from the university food court. The rest of the workday passes uneventfully, for which I am thankful. $9.67

3 p.m — With my patient-care activities and meetings done for the day, I work on a grant application. For a while, I’d been looking for a solution to one of (if not the single) biggest barriers to care that I see daily: lack of transportation. When people don’t have a way to get to and from their appointments, I feel like my job is useless. I am hoping with this grant money, we could provide that transportation and justify funding it in the future. I finish a good drafting session and leave the editing to another day.

8 p.m. — My friend, the photographer, texts me that one of her other friends is visiting from out of town, so I meet up with them at a cocktail bar. It’s the kind of place where all the cocktails have very long names. I get something with ginger and warm spices. I also get some nachos and Rotel dip for my dinner. My friend’s friend is stunning. She has a very direct and fiercely loyal attitude that I appreciate. She’s visiting from the Northeast to see our mutual friend’s featured exhibit at the art museum. We talk about the work for a while. Our friend is bashful and conflicted about her success, but it’s truly an amazing feat that celebrates Memphians. As a welcome gesture to our guest, I cover another round of drinks. Then we talk relationships. Specifically, the mutual friend is going through a prolonged period of intense arguments with her girlfriend. Our visitor is open about her opinions: It’s a toxic situation. I agree that it’s been that way for too long. Eventually, they determine that it’s time to go to another bar. I resist at first, saying that I have work in the morning. But they insist, of course, on one more drink, so I agree. It’s not a difficult task to get me to stay out. Seeing how excited they both seemed at my decision makes me feel wanted and happy. $72.23

9:30 p.m. — We go to a second location, a gay bar, which is particularly empty on this weeknight. It’s a place I would usually gravitate towards, with multiple rooms at a comfortable lighting level and a cozy, wooden outdoor patio. This is only my second time here, though. There’s a fear of being intrusive in spaces not intended for me, especially in a city like Memphis where places like this are relatively few. I get a grapefruit High Noon to close out the night and we huddle around the fire outside. Someone comes up and recognizes my friend. This person then proceeds to spill about all recent developments in their love life. They and their best friend recently confessed their feelings for each other, and now they’re dating. I offer up a kernel of vulnerability in exchange: I’ve had a similar experience, but with an alternate ending where I decided not to pursue this friendship-turned-love-interest after all. They don’t seem that interested in my story, which is totally fine. Keeping my one-more-drink promise to myself, we head out soon after. On the way out, our Northeastern guest asks where the lesbian bars are. There are none, sadly. “If you get a critical mass, you can make any bar a lesbian bar,” I suggest. We part ways for the night. I greet S. at home and unpack my day with him before getting ready for bed. $7.50