The Lessons I’ve Learned From My Friends’ Expensive Divorces
So many couples I know have broken up, or contemplating it. It has given me a lot to think about for my own relationship.
So many couples I know have broken up, or contemplating it. It has given me a lot to think about for my own relationship.
My girlfriend and I treat the outside of our apartment fridge like one big collage.
In the past few years, after attending wedding after wedding after wedding, we have unwittingly created a standing scrapbook of “Save the Date!” magnets and floral-patterned invitations, among other gilded mementos. But recently, we decided it was time to give the fridge collage a refresh. And in doing so, we realised something depressing: The majority of the happy-looking couples pictured were either now divorced, breaking up or in the process of seriously re-evaluating their relationship.
As a friend, I’ve learned so much from my newly divorced pals, and I admire the resilience, optimism and strength they demonstrated in the face of their breakups. But as a personal-finance columnist, I have also taken a lot of money lessons from these new divorcées—and I believe the insight is relevant to more than just other married couples.
One friend was able to rely on her prenuptial agreement to save her close to $100,000 in the wake of a speedy split; another woman I know escaped a financially abusive relationship with less than a grand to her name remaining in her savings account.
Darla Gale , a California-based therapist and founder of Heartstrings Counseling, says she often talks with clients about making meaning from these relationships and the accompanying financial fallout. Sharing lessons and experiences is one way to do so. “Money comes up a lot in my practice, because financial hardships are one of the reasons for divorce,” she says. “It can be very empowering to say, ‘I can do this on my own. I just didn’t have the tools to do it on my own.’ ”
The dissolution of a relationship can bring a host of financial lessons that shape how we talk about money in our relationships going forward—whether we were the bride, the groom or the smiling person snapping a selfie with the cake.
In my previous reporting, I’ve researched quite a bit about just how beneficial it can be for couples to combine finances. Studies show this enables them to maximise their potential to grow wealth and even leads to both partners feeling happier in the relationship.
But after witnessing their first wave of divorces, many younger people are embracing a different approach. “I’m doing a lot of prenuptial agreements for people who are younger, and they are for the most part wanting to keep their money separate, which is interesting and very different from the way prenups were done 10 to 20 years ago,” says Lisa Zeiderman , a New York-based divorce lawyer.
Gale says she now often sees couples doing both: sharing expenses in one joint account, for example, while still maintaining separate funds “so it doesn’t feel like one person is more in control.”
Inspired by this approach, my girlfriend and I have adopted something similar. To save for a down payment on a future house, we contribute near-equal amounts to a joint high-yield savings account that we opened together. We also share a credit card to use when we buy groceries, pay our dog’s vet bills or handle other shared expenses.
But at the same time, we both maintain separate checking accounts and saving accounts, for our own individual needs. This way, should disaster ever strike, we’re both able to maintain a level of personal autonomy and build our own lives anew.
After all, as Gale put it, “Autonomy equals equality.”
Here’s the good news I’ve learned while looking at divorce through a personal (and personal-finance) lens: On the whole, millennial couples are actually divorcing at lower rates than people of previous generations at similar ages.
Economist Brett House , a professor of professional practice in the economics Division at Columbia Business School, attributes this decline to two important things: Millennials are getting married at later ages. And they’re likelier to have received more education by the age of their first marriage.
But waiting to tie the knot doesn’t protect you against the financial fallout of a divorce—if anything, marrying later means both parties might have had more time to accumulate more assets that could lead to financial conflict once split.
“People may be more mature and more aware of themselves and clearer about what they want from a relationship than was the case in earlier years,” House says.
Gale recommends clearly stating those financial priorities at the start of a relationship, when everything still seems rosy. “Don’t be sneaky about it, but go into the relationship and say ‘I’m going to have a separate bank account, whether that is for going out or having a ‘fun’ fund but autonomy is really important to me,’ ” she says.
And watch your potential partner’s reaction to such a conversation—that can also inform your decision to build a life with them.
In her many years advising women and working in divorce courts, Zeiderman says she often gives young to-be-married women the same advice: Don’t lose sight of your career.
Zeiderman has seen firsthand how difficult it is for many people, in compromising their own professional trajectories, to rebuild their earnings post-divorce.
“So many decide, frankly, to let the other person build their career and then at the end of the day, you cannot make up for this in spousal support, you cannot make up for it in the distribution of their assets,” she said. “Stay in the workforce. You must.”
We like to think that is easy to do, but in practice, both partners prioritising their careers isn’t easy.
This summer, I’ll have just embarked upon a new career as a freelance writer and podcast host; at the same time, my girlfriend, also a journalist, will be traveling throughout France covering the summer Olympics. We talked in advance about how important this summer will be for us, work-wise, and agreed that although our relationship—and our patience!—may be tested, affording each other some grace during this high-pressure time will go a long way. Building our careers will benefit our household bottom line, but it’s also insurance for both of us.
“The forethought is easier to do when things are good,” Zeiderman told me. And her words stuck with me.
I thought back to the dozens of conversations I’ve had with my divorced friends. So many of them regretted never discussing money goals, habits or strategies with their partners in advance of marriage. Far too often, they said, they worried bringing up finances would dampen the excitement of the honeymoon phase; then, months or years later, the unsaid words curdled and soured with resentment.
My girlfriend and I keep a standing monthly “money date” on the calendar. We make the time to curl up on the couch, just the two of us, and review our household finances. For us, that looks like going over the bank statement and checking on progress made toward our financial goals. On past money dates, we’ve compared prices for coming purchases, paid down debt and even shared how things stand in our separate personal accounts.
No one likes paying bills or calculating debt totals, but we work hard to make the process as painless as possible. But this coming month, I think the topic I have planned may be our most uncomfortable one yet.
That’s because, inspired by Zeiderman and Gale, this time I have something particularly “special” planned for our money date: the “What if we broke up?” conversation.
I want to plan out how we would divide our shared assets and then put these details in writing—together. If something were to happen in the future, we could hopefully put aside our differences to rely on this plan and make the detangling of our finances much simpler.
Luckily for me, my girlfriend knows me well enough by now to see the romance hiding in this gesture.
A divide has opened in the tech job market between those with artificial-intelligence skills and everyone else.
A 30-metre masterpiece unveiled in Monaco brings Lamborghini’s supercar drama to the high seas, powered by 7,600 horsepower and unmistakable Italian design.
A divide has opened in the tech job market between those with artificial-intelligence skills and everyone else.
There has rarely, if ever, been so much tech talent available in the job market. Yet many tech companies say good help is hard to find.
What gives?
U.S. colleges more than doubled the number of computer-science degrees awarded from 2013 to 2022, according to federal data. Then came round after round of layoffs at Google, Meta, Amazon, and others.
The Bureau of Labor Statistics predicts businesses will employ 6% fewer computer programmers in 2034 than they did last year.
All of this should, in theory, mean there is an ample supply of eager, capable engineers ready for hire.
But in their feverish pursuit of artificial-intelligence supremacy, employers say there aren’t enough people with the most in-demand skills. The few perceived as AI savants can command multimillion-dollar pay packages. On a second tier of AI savvy, workers can rake in close to $1 million a year .
Landing a job is tough for most everyone else.
Frustrated job seekers contend businesses could expand the AI talent pipeline with a little imagination. The argument is companies should accept that relatively few people have AI-specific experience because the technology is so new. They ought to focus on identifying candidates with transferable skills and let those people learn on the job.
Often, though, companies seem to hold out for dream candidates with deep backgrounds in machine learning. Many AI-related roles go unfilled for weeks or months—or get taken off job boards only to be reposted soon after.
It is difficult to define what makes an AI all-star, but I’m sorry to report that it’s probably not whatever you’re doing.
Maybe you’re learning how to work more efficiently with the aid of ChatGPT and its robotic brethren. Perhaps you’re taking one of those innumerable AI certificate courses.
You might as well be playing pickup basketball at your local YMCA in hopes of being signed by the Los Angeles Lakers. The AI minds that companies truly covet are almost as rare as professional athletes.
“We’re talking about hundreds of people in the world, at the most,” says Cristóbal Valenzuela, chief executive of Runway, which makes AI image and video tools.
He describes it like this: Picture an AI model as a machine with 1,000 dials. The goal is to train the machine to detect patterns and predict outcomes. To do this, you have to feed it reams of data and know which dials to adjust—and by how much.
The universe of people with the right touch is confined to those with uncanny intuition, genius-level smarts or the foresight (possibly luck) to go into AI many years ago, before it was all the rage.
As a venture-backed startup with about 120 employees, Runway doesn’t necessarily vie with Silicon Valley giants for the AI job market’s version of LeBron James. But when I spoke with Valenzuela recently, his company was advertising base salaries of up to $440,000 for an engineering manager and $490,000 for a director of machine learning.
A job listing like one of these might attract 2,000 applicants in a week, Valenzuela says, and there is a decent chance he won’t pick any of them. A lot of people who claim to be AI literate merely produce “workslop”—generic, low-quality material. He spends a lot of time reading academic journals and browsing GitHub portfolios, and recruiting people whose work impresses him.
In addition to an uncommon skill set, companies trying to win in the hypercompetitive AI arena are scouting for commitment bordering on fanaticism .
Daniel Park is seeking three new members for his nine-person startup. He says he will wait a year or longer if that’s what it takes to fill roles with advertised base salaries of up to $500,000.
He’s looking for “prodigies” willing to work seven days a week. Much of the team lives together in a six-bedroom house in San Francisco.
If this sounds like a lonely existence, Park’s team members may be able to solve their own problem. His company, Pickle, aims to develop personalised AI companions akin to Tony Stark’s Jarvis in “Iron Man.”
James Strawn wasn’t an AI early adopter, and the father of two teenagers doesn’t want to sacrifice his personal life for a job. He is beginning to wonder whether there is still a place for people like him in the tech sector.
He was laid off over the summer after 25 years at Adobe , where he was a senior software quality-assurance engineer. Strawn, 55, started as a contractor and recalls his hiring as a leap of faith by the company.
He had been an artist and graphic designer. The managers who interviewed him figured he could use that background to help make Illustrator and other Adobe software more user-friendly.
Looking for work now, he doesn’t see the same willingness by companies to take a chance on someone whose résumé isn’t a perfect match to the job description. He’s had one interview since his layoff.
“I always thought my years of experience at a high-profile company would at least be enough to get me interviews where I could explain how I could contribute,” says Strawn, who is taking foundational AI courses. “It’s just not like that.”
The trouble for people starting out in AI—whether recent grads or job switchers like Strawn—is that companies see them as a dime a dozen.
“There’s this AI arms race, and the fact of the matter is entry-level people aren’t going to help you win it,” says Matt Massucci, CEO of the tech recruiting firm Hirewell. “There’s this concept of the 10x engineer—the one engineer who can do the work of 10. That’s what companies are really leaning into and paying for.”
He adds that companies can automate some low-level engineering tasks, which frees up more money to throw at high-end talent.
It’s a dynamic that creates a few handsomely paid haves and a lot more have-nots.
A divide has opened in the tech job market between those with artificial-intelligence skills and everyone else.
Ophora Tallawong has launched its final release of quality apartments priced under $700,000.