Fuck You Money

Forgive the f-word.

But there's no better way of describing what turns employees into employers, wage slaves into devil-may-care risk-takers. This may be an odd phrase in a business magazine, but I have heard it on enough people's lips to know it's what drives them.

I remember coming across it in a novel some time in the late 70s. James Clavell perhaps. The heroine in the book has slogged for years, fighting her way up a male-dominated hierarchy to come within inches of the top. The Taipan, or Big Boss, is about to announce her promotion. But she drops out saying thanks, but no thanks. She explains: With all due respect, I've made my f--- you money, and can now say no to anything I don't 100 per cent want to do. So, it's really nice of you, but I don't want to work for anybody right now.

Well, like Clavell's heroine, I was certainly not a born entrepreneur-failed attempt to start a cleaning service at 18 aside. I worked at an assortment of jobs in an assortment of countries, trying to figure out why I was cozying up to people I didn't want to cozy up to, and doing stuff I really didn't like doing.

The thought that kept me going was that I was on my way to make that f--- you money. To me, it was a certain amount of cash in the bank (or liquid securities, or even a house) that would allow me to say "No" to anyone or anything I might dislike.

I remember making my first calculation over a decade ago. At that time, it was enough money for me and the spouse to live comfortably for a year if we stopped earning. As time went by, more got added to that calculation. Like a house one owned outright. A little money to travel.

The money happened. So did the house and the travel. It's amazing how much one could do in India with the peanuts one earned abroad.

I didn't leave work yet, but found myself changing in the way I approached it. I was always a pain in the system's posterior, but soon became even more unwilling to compromise. The weird thing was that the more risks I took at work, I didn't come closer to getting fired-but the opposite: the more I got promoted.

This new-found confidence allowed me to change jobs, careers, even fields at will. I tried retiring twice, at 30 and 32, but relapsed as I couldn't sit at home and do nothing. I did that calculation again four years ago. The number had grown, but not by that much. And we were there, comfortably there. This time I finally stopped being an employee.

There are two things one has realised since. First, the f--- you money-let's call it FYM to keep the editor here from cringing any more-needn't be a huge number. I'd say look at your expenses for six or nine months. Not income, but the sum of your rent, mortgage, credit card bills, expenses, the 'necessities'. Then add a little cushion, maybe for travel or a medical emergency. Now write that number down. There is no fixed amount-but I've seen people come up with anything from Rs 2 lakh to Rs 25 lakh.

Now look at your assets closely. You may already have that money somewhere in your house, belongings, jewellery, shares. Now assuming you don't exactly love your job and want out, liquify enough hard assets, and put them somewhere safe where they won't depreciate, hand in your papers and start anew. If you're not there yet, you may find you can quickly work towards that FYM.

The second realisation comes when I ask people this: If you were stranded somewhere in the Sahara close to an isolated nomadic village, with no money, no phones, no language in common with those folks, would you die of starvation?

Every answer comes back "No-I'll manage." To which I ask: If you can survive in those dire circumstances, why wouldn't you survive if you just walked out of your job? You WILL figure out a way to make do going forward.

I know this now-for a born entrepreneur, the required FYM is zero. He doesn't need money in the bank-he has confidence in his mind. The rest of us, myself included, might need the comfort of some FYM before we can finally put a comma in that phrase, before the word 'money'.