http://www.harpersbazaar.com/ukPHOTOGRAPHS: REGAN CAMERON, COURTESY OF LAURA THOMPSON
October 2019 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 169AT WOR K
Of course, we know about the pay gap, of which I
was an extremely minor victim. But the problem is both bigger and
vaguer than that, and to me it is symbolised by the meetings I had
with that bluff, charming, financial adviser. He reminded me
somehow of my equally pleasant male gynaecologist who told
me to have a major operation, oh yes, I had to do that, while, when
I sought a second opinion, my next doctor – a woman – simply put
me on the Pill and saved me untold misery.
Might the female equivalent of my financial adviser have
done the same thing? Might she have spoken
a different language, plainer to me; might I,
indeed, have been different with her, more
inclined to say what I really thought?
I did also wonder if this could be a question
of age. My mother freely admits to knowing
even less about money than I do, for the simple
reason that my father handled everything. By
that token, surely a millennial would be more
clued–up than a Generation X-er like me?
A g a i n , i t a p p e a r s n o t. T h e r e i s n o e v i d e n c e
that young women as a group – obviously
there are exceptions – are building up pensions
or making sensible investments; one might
say that surplus income with which to be savvy is pretty scarce these
days, but that is all the more reason why good counsel is needed.
How useful, if a down-to-earth adviser were to instruct every
school pupil in the rudiments of financial management! I only wish
that somebody would give me that instruction now. Because as
things are, and feminist principles notwithstanding, I sometimes
find myself yearning for the kind of man that my mother married,
as quite a few of my friends have done: one who ‘deals with it all for
me’. It is an answer of sorts; but not really the right one.S
ome years ago, when I was writing a long article for a
now-defunct magazine, I did that thing one is supposed
to do and asked for more money. I had good reason: my
then-boyfriend had written a comparable piece for the
same publication and been better paid for it. Nevertheless, my
request was turned down by the (male) editor. There was a carefully
explained logic behind the refusal, but I think that if my boyfriend
had been the one doing the asking, he would have got the raise. And
even i f he hadn’t, he wou ldn’t have felt such a n idiot.
A couple of years after this, my father died, and I was advised to
invest some of my legacy. I was told to do things that I didn’t really
understand but felt must assuredly be sound and sensible. As a result,
I lost quite a chunk of money (about which I try not to think
too much), and in a panic, extricated the rest and put
it in the sanctuary of my bank, where it earned not
much more interest than it would have done beneath
the floorboards, but at least couldn’t evaporate into the
financial exosphere.
I don’t blame the male adviser who told me (wrongly)
how to invest it; I do regret having been advised, by
another man, to take the advice. Would they have
behaved differently had I, too, been a man? As with the
male magazine editor, it is hard to know. They were
certainly very insistent in their opinions and laughed
with relaxed dismissiveness when I expressed my concerns; but
knowing me, as I then was, I would have allowed them to act that
way. In the end, I can only blame myself for having been too embar-
rassed, too idiotically compliant, to tell them to keep their paws off
my legacy until I knew exactly what I should be doing with it.
A confession: I have a degree from Oxford and have written nine
books, but I am truly, madly, horribly clueless about money. Its work-
ings and machinations operate for me in a metaphorical pea-souper.
I know what stocks and shares and bonds
and pensions are, but in some fundamental
way I don’t understand them. Indeed, the only
financial transactions I understand are the
ones that take place in William Hill, but even
there I keep things concrete: me, horse, win,
lose. Just to think of arcane variants such as
spread betting is to induce that virus-like
fear of money drifting away, spiralling out of
reach, a s it did once before.
Because of what happened, all I now care
about is having as much control as possible
over whatever money I still possess. And
because I have so little faith in financial advice,
and so weak a grasp of it, this means that it stays put, doing almost
nothing, like a hibernating animal.
A m I undu ly st upid in such mat ters? Is it because I went to sta ge
school and was never taught maths properly? I always assumed
so, but apparently it is not just me. For every Helena Morrissey,
there are thousands of women who should have more money than
they actually do, who have been badly advised, incomprehen-
sibly advised, not advised at all or bested by their ex-husband’s
clever lawyer. Finances, it turns out, are a feminist issue.Below:
Laura
ThompsonA confession:
I have a degree
from Oxford but
I am truly, madly,
horribly clueless
about money