The Work We Do, The Money We Don't Make

“You get paid by how you show up in the system. Not always by what you know, or how hard you work.”

— paraphrased from David Graeber, professor at London School of Economics, anthropologist and author of Bullshit Jobs.

That line hit me like a punch the first time I read it.

There’s something deeply humiliating about not having enough money.

And there’s something even more humiliating about not being able to say you want more.

Especially when you were raised to believe that wanting money makes you greedy, ungrateful, or suspicious.

Especially when you’re not expected to want money, only to serve, to show up, to “manage.”

You feel the shame before you even say the words out loud.

But who taught us that?

Where did it begin, this idea that talking about money is dirty, or asking to be paid well is somehow beneath you?

A Brief History of Income, Identity & Who Gets Paid

Thousands of years ago, in Mesopotamia, one of the oldest civilizations, work was rigidly tied to social status.

There was no job market.

You were what you were born into.

If your identity was slave or servant, your work held no income potential.

If your identity was scribe or priest, you got paid in resources, status, and protection.

The identity you carried translated to the work you did.

Fast-forward to the Roman Empire. Again, citizens earned, slaves didn’t. Landowners lived richly off the labor of others.

Serfs and peasants got survival wages, if anything.

You could toil every day of your life, and still be seen as a non-person.

When industrialization came, it was supposed to be better. Now people can work their way up. Right?

But even that depended on identity: race, gender, class, and location. And even within the same building, the managers had suits, the laborers had grimy overalls.

And today?

Not much has changed.

Except now we go about pretending it’s okay.

Graeber’s Warning: The Rise of Bullshit Jobs

In 2013, David Graeber shook the table with a now-viral essay: On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs.

He argued that the modern economy is full of people doing jobs that they themselves believe are pointless, yet they pretend to care because pretending pays the bills.

He identified five types:

Flunkies: assistants or receptionists that exist to boost egos.

Goons: roles like lobbyists or PR that serve power for power’s sake.

Duct-tapers: who patch problems that shouldn’t exist to begin with.

Box-tickers: creating reports or compliance checklists nobody reads.

Taskmasters: middle managers who manage people who don’t need managing.

These jobs, Graeber said, are not only morally depressing, they’re a form of psychological violence, keeping people stuck in roles that feel empty but appear respectable.

What struck me most was this quote:

“How can one even begin to speak of dignity in labor when one secretly feels one’s job should not exist?”

His quote can be extrapolated to business and other forms of work.

Some people are running businesses that are just as empty. Selling what they don’t believe in. Pretending to be profitable.

Stuck in a cycle of low trust, low pay, and no real growth, but afraid to stop because of the image they’ve built.

And underneath all of it is the silent shame about wanting more, is the confusion about how to shift into work that pays well and means something.

Why the Shame Persists (Especially for the Working Class)

If you’re from a lower-income, religious, or “proper” background, you’re often taught to pursue usefulness, humility, and good character.

But never wealth, or at least, income clarity.

You become the hardest-working person in the room, but not the highest paid.

You see others getting ahead, not because they’re smarter or better, but because they positioned themselves in higher-value roles, industries, or identities.

And when you finally muster the courage to ask, “How much does this career or business model really pay?” someone says:

“Just focus on the work. The money will come.”

But what if it doesn’t?

What if you’ve built a whole career or brand around an identity that this capitalist world doesn’t respect and reward financially?

This is where people lose decades.

There are people who are highly skilled, deeply competent, but they’ve been programmed to feel like asking “How much is this career path worth?” is somehow greedy. Meanwhile, that one question could have changed the direction of their life.

Now Let’s Make Something Clear

You don’t have to want billions. But you need multi-millions to live well in most parts of the world, particularly in Africa.

Purpose and profit are not enemies. But to link them, you must ask critical questions like:

• Where is the money in what I do?

• Who pays best for this skill, this service, this business model?

• What do I need to change to move up?

• What identity have I chosen or inherited?

• How does the world value me there?

• Is that enough to live well, or to thrive?

• What roles or business models in my space actually pay?

• What shift would raise my income and honor my purpose?
  
  

Not all work is equal.

Not all industries are designed for your thriving.

Most are designed to profit from your shame and silence.

Prompt for Action (Career or Business)

Use any AI tool, search engine, or expert advisor. Ask:

• What are the highest-paying roles or business models in [insert skill/industry]?

• What credentials, positioning, or value tiers affect pay in this space?

• What transition paths exist to move from where I am to where I should be [state where you are]?

• What countries and companies value this kind of work most?

• What are the top‑earning roles or business models tied to [your skill/industry]?

• Which of these align with my identity and values?

• What’s the leverage point, role, business model, product, that pays most for impact?

Then push it:

• What skills, network, or positioning would I need to shift into that?

When you’re in your 20s, you may have the illusion of time. You can fail fast, try things, and delay the talk of money.

But by your 30s? Your responsibilities multiply. And if you didn’t start earning intentionally, your reality starts catching up real fast.

If you’re not asking where the money is in what you do, you’re not being humble. You’re being timid.

And the earlier you do that, the better.

I’m rooting for you!

— EL