But is this discomfort purely historical? Talking about money is also culturally shaped. My father worked for an American company when I was a child. Whenever his U.S. colleagues visited, money was discussed openly. I was about 7 years old when we had dinner at one colleague’s house. They had a refrigerator with an ice dispenser! It was the early ’80s, and I’d never seen anything like it. “You must be very rich,” I said to their youngest son, who had an Atari console in his room. His father, Liam, overheard and laughed loudly, saying, “Of course, Maaike! What did you think?” in his American accent. “I’m loaded thanks to my in-laws, and I earn a couple of hundred grand a year.” I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded huge — they had an ice machine, after all.
I was already fascinated by the concept of Travellers’ Cheques, the precursor to credit cards. If my dad could sign a pink slip of paper and leave a restaurant without paying cash, surely, we were somewhat wealthy too. After that American visit, I had a thousand questions but only asked one: “How much do you earn, Dad?” “None of your business. That’s rude,” my mother snapped. “But Liam talks about it,” I retorted. Dad laughed, “That’s because Liam is American. Over there, being rich equals success, so they brag about it.” That conversation—and cultural difference—stuck with me.
Now that I have kids, I wonder why financial education isn’t part of high school curricula Sure, they learn basic accounting, but who teaches teens how to manage money wisely or the risks of certain purchases (scooters, vapes) and loans? Parents should lead by example, yet sometimes we’re out of touch. A friend’s daughter racked up €1,000 in Klarna debt before her parents found out. “Buy now, pay later” schemes could certainly benefit from school awareness campaigns.
Puck, my oldest, recently got a job at a café. I make it a point to talk about money and savings with her. Her salary currently goes towards jewellery and setting spray, but she’s debt-free for now. The other day, she proudly showed me a hoodie she’d bought on sale. Later, she accidentally got tomato sauce on it while I was cooking. “Be careful, Mum!” she yelled, treating the €10 hoodie — her own purchase — like a precious museum piece as she carefully loaded it into the washing machine. First lesson learned: understanding the value of money. Next step? Treating things, I buy for her with the same care.