Robes to Rags

By Karla Altman

As I frequent The Grande, a playground for the nouveau riche, I find myself amidst gaudily attired individuals sporting costly irony on their t-shirts, ostentatious Swiss watches, and flashy chains. They bear a striking resemblance to the drug peddlers of my college days. The company includes a gentleman who, just a year prior, was penniless and unemployed. He managed to borrow funds to launch a venture that transformed vegetables into “scientific diet packs.” Six months later, he sold his creation for a cool $3,000,000 to a prominent lifestyle brand. The remaining patrons are much the same: wealthy and leisurely, with equally garish tales.

In contrast, I recall a recent reunion with my college chums. What did we achieve? A smattering in the sciences, chasing grants; others in academia, driving dilapidated vehicles to teach; and a handful who succumbed to Wall Street’s allure, though they were far from affluent. The majority, regrettably, struggled to establish themselves professionally.

During my tenure as a lecturer, I often asked incoming students what they believed the most valuable skill they would acquire at school. The resounding response: “How to amass embarrassing amounts of money.”

This disparity led me to ponder why the patrons of The Grande enjoyed such prosperity while my fellow Yale graduates and I languished in relative poverty. The desire for wealth is ubiquitous among college students, yet few seem to attain it. Perhaps I was merely observing through a skewed lens, as The Grande hardly represents a comprehensive sample. Thus, I sought answers from the echoing realm of statistics.

Indeed, college graduates typically outearn their non-graduate counterparts, although the gap is narrowing. However, when it comes to amassing not just a comfortable abode, but a Tuscan villa, a private jet, and a bank balance swelling past $10,000,000, a college degree seems to lose its relevance. Millionaires emerge from realms entirely separate from academia. Speculation, investments, entrepreneurship, risk-taking, ascending to rock stardom, or penning teen fiction — these are the true paths to staggering wealth. A sterling academic record at Harvard pales in comparison to the financial rewards reaped from shrewdly investing in Microsoft, recognizing the public’s appetite for wrestling champions, or, indeed, selling pet rocks.

In short, the coveted skills learned within the confines of ivy-covered walls may not guarantee a life of opulence. The gulf between the aspirations of college students and their eventual achievements should serve as a sobering reminder that riches often lie far from the gates of our hallowed institutions.

In the wee hours, I was struck by a bold idea: Not only does education fail to ensure wealth, but it may actively impede bright the individual from achieving affluence.

Consider what one learns at school: the art of spending money with style once it’s acquired, but not the means of obtaining it. We learn to read, perhaps to perform basic arithmetic, and to appreciate the history of art and music. If fortune smiles upon us, we might even develop the ability to analyze and critique with sophistication. This, ultimately, is the apex of education — fostering students who can dissect ideas with elegance and depth.

As a top-tier student, you may be able to explain the Soviet Union’s collapse or develop novel insights into the irony of Aristophanes’ The Clouds. In academia, such prowess is celebrated, earning you accolades, high grades, and a place among the intellectual elite.

Schools impart a sense of superiority, convincing us that our analytical skills elevate us above the common masses who merely “do” instead of critiquing. Where, within the hallowed halls of education, is merit found in action rather than the art of explaining others’ missteps, or dissecting Yeltsin’s folly and the inadequacy of suburban planning?

Moreover, school teaches us to thrive in organizations. In essence, it serves as our maiden corporate voyage. We ascend through the ranks, diligently and cautiously, each year marking a step closer to disillusionment and disappointment.

The bitter truth is that no one will pay handsomely for critiques of Aristophanes, dissections of Yeltsin’s failed policies, or analyses of the French New Wave’s demise. In the real world, people value action over criticism.

At school, we learned that we were somehow superior to the unrefined builder of garish McMansions, yet it is he who owns the Porsche 911. We were taught to scoff at those who peddle mundane products while we prattle on about Wilde. And yet, it is the entrepreneur who purchases a Scottish lordship while we cram ourselves into chartered flights to witness a million other tourists gaze upon the Bridge of Sighs.

Undoubtedly, we all sneered at the dropout who opted to sell catchy T-shirts, but he eventually built his own fashion brand. Now, we eagerly vie for grants from his philanthropic foundation.

This stark contrast between the ambitions of the educated and the realities of life exposes an inconvenient truth: our schooling may inadvertently obstruct the path to riches. Instead of encouraging success through practical action, the academic system rewards the art of critique and analysis, which are of little value in the pursuit of wealth.

While we honed our skills in haughty disdain, others were learning the art of wealth generation — an area in which we remain woefully ignorant. Society bestows riches upon those who create or offer something of perceived value, be it practical, aspirational, or entertaining. However, even the wealthiest of societies cannot afford to enrich individuals solely for penning critical essays and analytical musings.

Accumulating wealth requires an understanding of value and the ability to deliver on it. Donald Trump recognized the demand for apartments, Bill Gates foresaw the need for useable computers, LeBron James captivated audiences with his three-pointers, Mark Zuckerberg tapped into the desire for social connections, and Robin Williams brought laughter to the masses. These individuals did not write academic papers or seek grants; they took action to provide what people wanted, and society rewarded them with riches.

Attaining wealth demands a particular mindset and flair, far beyond an intellectual grasp of market dynamics. This unique disposition is as distant from the classroom environment as the smog of Shanghai is from crisp, Zurich air.

It’s crucial to understand that, barring exceedingly rare exceptions, merely selling one’s labor is seldom enough to amass wealth. Even the most prestigious law, medical, or business schools teach students to sell their labor, but however skilled, it is unlikely to elevate them beyond well-compensated employees.

Take, for example, a hardworking Harvard Law School graduate who becomes a partner at a Wall Street firm, earning an average of $150,000 per year. With taxes, a million-dollar home, orthodontic bills, and a Maserati to account for, the individual may, through extreme frugality, save $20,000 annually. Maintaining this for 30 years, compounded interest considered, might yield a million dollars in savings. However, such frugality is virtually unheard of.

The disparity between academic aspirations and financial realities highlights the limitations of a college education. Rather than fostering practical wealth-building skills, academia rewards critique and analysis, which rarely translate to substantial material gain.

On the other hand, consider the dropout who buys and rents stage equipment, employing a few dopes for assembly. He might soon net $3,000 a week. Although less than the lawyer’s salary, he can sell his business for ten times its earnings and quickly accumulate his desired house, Maserati, and ten million dollars while still young enough to enjoy it.

Similarly, the builder of ostentatious McMansions, despite their lack of aesthetic appeal, can often sell them the day after completion for double the construction cost. Having invested only a fraction upfront, the builder becomes rich virtually overnight.

The secret lies in owning a business, a building, a book, a computer program, or land, and selling it for a multiple of its earnings. This allows for a lump sum to enjoy life, rather than selling your labor as an employee and relinquishing your life to an employer. The vulgar entrepreneur retains both his wealth and his freedom, making all the difference.

Unfortunately, this rule — that the rich accumulate wealth by selling something other than their labor — remains nearly unbreakable, with entertainers and athletes being the exceptions.

Those who attain wealth intuitively understand the need to take risks, diverge from the conventional path, and abandon linear living. Accumulating substantial wealth requires delving into the heart of the economic system and taking chances. In school, students sit in stuffy classrooms, discussing the system’s flaws or evolution.

Moreover, where in school do students learn about capitalizing earnings? Amidst discussions of Kant and Plato, where is the conversation about cashing out? Tragically, it is absent. Thus, as we watch the rich disembark from their Lamborghinis, we may view them as tasteless, while secretly harboring envy-induced hypertension, even as we pride ourselves on our knowledge of Twain and Wilde.

This isn’t to say that school is entirely without merit. Understanding literature and art certainly provides spiritual fulfillment. Political science and art history have their uses as well. However, these subjects don’t bring us closer to the ultimate goal many students seek — grasping the money tree in autumn and shaking it vigorously.

So, how did we reach this point? Why, in a society obsessed with wealth, are our brightest and most ambitious youth learning nothing about accumulating riches, despite that being their primary desire?

The answer lies in historical accident. The liberal-arts curriculum, originated in 13th-century England. Clerics founded Oxford and Cambridge to prepare themselves to advise monarchs and learn Latin and the lives of the saints. After several centuries and social upheavals, the priestly class lost power, while nobility and wealthy merchants gained prominence. Thus, the liberal-arts curriculum evolved to cater to the sons of the wealthy, teaching them how to engage in sophisticated discourse on various subjects without in-depth knowledge. Oxford and Cambridge aimed to transform wealthy boors into cultured dilettantes, never intending to teach them how to make money. After all, these young men were already wealthy and would never need to sully their hands in the pursuit of wealth.

The success of Oxford and Cambridge led to the establishment of similar institutions in the American colonies. Initially, these schools were also primarily for clergy, but over time they too became training grounds for the children of the affluent.

As a result, modern liberal arts education still largely focuses on cultivating well-rounded individuals with knowledge in various subjects, rather than specifically teaching students how to make money. This historical trajectory has shaped the goals and priorities of higher education, often neglecting the practical aspects of wealth accumulation.

While higher education has its merits and offers intellectual and cultural enrichment, it often does not provide the tools and knowledge necessary to build wealth in today’s society. The roots of this discrepancy can be traced back to the origins of liberal arts education, which was designed for the leisurely elite rather than aspiring wealth-seekers. To truly learn the art of wealth-building, one must be willing to venture beyond the classroom, take risks, and engage in the economic system in a hands-on manner. This involves a hustler’s mindset and seeking opportunities outside of the academic realm.

The democratization of higher education in the last few decades led to an unprecedented number of people enrolling in liberal arts programs, with the expectation that these degrees would provide them with the knowledge and prestige necessary to attain high-paying jobs and a comfortable life. However, as the number of degree holders increased, so did the competition for the limited number of jobs in academia, government, and the media. The market became saturated with college graduates, many of whom found themselves working in service jobs unrelated to their fields of study.

The story of liberal arts education demonstrates how expectations can be disconnected from the economic realities faced by graduates. While there is value in a well-rounded education, wealth-seekers should not rely on academic knowledge in place of practical experience.

And thus, we arrive at the crux of the matter. The eager scholars, in pursuit of the same knowledge as their gilded predecessors, attended university, naively believing that upon graduation, they too would live like the elite. Alas! They were fortunate to secure jobs as mere insurance adjusters. Alas! Even law, medical, and business schools could not save them from the cruel hand of reality. It mattered not how many illustrious contacts they made; the coveted wealth seemed always out of reach.

The students and their ambitious parents had made a cardinal error in reasoning. Observing a wealthy man with a Rolls-Royce, they mistakenly assumed the car was the source of his wealth. Nay! It was his affluence that procured the Rolls.

The earnest parents and their hopeful progeny, gazing longingly at the well-to-do college-goers, had utterly confused correlation with causation. Those who emerged wealthy from college were, in fact, wealthy upon entry. That very wealth allowed them the privilege of attending college instead of toiling like the rest of us. It was not college that made them rich; it was but an institution for the already prosperous.

The opulent fellows at the Harvard Club, feasting on succulent lamb while swapping stock picks, did not amass their fortune by attending Harvard. They were blessed with wealth from the outset. This holds true for even the most humble institutions. Pursuing liberal arts at a modest university will no more guarantee riches than conspicous consumption of Columbian snow will preserve one’s sanity.

For those of us not born into wealth but desiring it, attending college is as beneficial as adding opioid addicts to the streets of San Francisco. We are expected to labor, amass enough wealth to send our offspring to college, and hope they graduate unburdened by the need to work. Higher education serves either as a pursuit of knowledge for its own sake — a noble and admirable endeavor — or as an indulgence for those exempt from work. It remains a delightful trinket for the masses, but should not be mistaken for the key to immense fortune. The same applies to graduate schools; while they offer a pleasant way to pass the time, they are far removed from the path to truly substantial wealth.

The unsavory truth and its inevitable repercussions! Young minds, freshly liberated from the confines of academia, find themselves utterly perplexed by the cruel twist of fate. All their lives, they were assured by doting parents and educators that they were destined to inherit the earth, only to witness the wily entrepreneur seize that very inheritance. They toil in pristine offices, shackled to a salary, surrounded by sterile white walls and gleaming computers. Meanwhile, the guy providing the cleaning service grows wealthy as the college-educated trudge along, reminiscing about halcyon college days and pondering their unfulfilled dreams. Why can’t they gallivant through Spain for a year? Why can’t they possess a Jensen or a chalet in Aspen?

Bitterness takes hold, for they feel betrayed. They once believed themselves the crème de la crème, yet find themselves buried in mediocrity. Understandably, resentment swells. They’ve been hoodwinked, swindled, and left adrift. Alienation breeds contempt for the very society they once aspired to join, and they scoff at those who have acquired what they desire.

The sting of disappointment is potent. It chafes to realize that the Brahmin lifestyle is unattainable, that the once-ignored Visa bill now demands attention. It smolders to accept that even prestigious, albeit low-paying, jobs — like those in NGOs — are out of reach without the benefit of inherited wealth.

Disillusionment, resignation, depression — these emotions plague our comrades just a few years post-graduation, as they confront the chasm between their expectations and reality. In search of solace, they turn to Marxist ideologies and ostentatious airs to mask their disappointment, wondering how their paths deviated so drastically from the anticipated course.

But do not cast blame upon yourself, dear reader. These misguided notions were instilled your entire youth. The truth can be found at The Grande, but brace yourself for the staggering cost of the lobster; after all, only the rich can truly afford it.