Growing up, I spent weekends at my best friend’s house in the nicer part of town.
Her parents talked about portfolio diversification at dinner while mine debated whether we could afford name-brand cereal that week. The contrast hit me young: money doesn’t just change what you buy, it changes what you say.
Years later, after moving through brand and media worlds where perception drives everything, I’ve realized those dinner table conversations shaped us in ways we’re only now unpacking.
The phrases that seemed normal to us would have made wealthy kids’ parents reach for their phones to call a financial advisor, or maybe a therapist.
Here are nine things that were standard dinner conversation for lower middle class kids that would have absolutely bewildered anyone who grew up with money.
1. “We can’t afford that right now”
This phrase was as common as salt and pepper on our tables. We heard it about everything from school field trips to replacing worn-out shoes. It wasn’t dramatic or emotional, just a fact of life, like gravity.
Wealthy kids rarely hear this. Their parents might say “that’s not a priority” or “let’s think about whether you really need it,” but the underlying message is different. One teaches scarcity as a permanent state. The other teaches choice.
The wild part? We internalized this so deeply that even when we eventually had money, we still heard that voice. I caught myself saying it to my own kid about a $3 toy I could easily afford. The programming runs that deep.
2. “Money doesn’t grow on trees”
Every lower middle class kid can perfectly mimic their parent’s tone saying this. It usually came after asking for something that seemed reasonable to us but impossible to them.
The phrase taught us that money was finite, hard to get, and easy to lose. Meanwhile, wealthy families were teaching their kids that money does grow, just not on trees. It grows in investment accounts, real estate, and businesses.
We learned to see money as something you chase. They learned to see it as something you cultivate.
3. “Don’t tell anyone what I make”
Salary was treated like a state secret in our houses. Parents would literally whisper numbers if they had to mention them at all. The shame around not making enough was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
This secrecy created a weird relationship with success. We learned that talking about money was dangerous, that someone might judge us or use the information against us. Wealthy families discuss money openly, teaching their kids about investments, savings rates, and compound interest over dinner.
The irony? The secrecy meant we never learned how to negotiate, how to value ourselves, or how to have healthy conversations about money in our own relationships.
4. “You better not break that”
This wasn’t just about being careful. It carried the weight of knowing that broken things wouldn’t get replaced. That bike, that gaming console, those school shoes, they had to last because there wasn’t money for another one.
Wealthy kids heard “be careful” too, but it meant something different. For them, breaking something meant inconvenience. For us, it meant doing without.
The result? We became adults who keep using things long past their expiration date. Who feel guilty replacing something that still technically works, even when we can afford it. Who panic disproportionately when we accidentally break something, even something cheap.
5. “You have food at home”
The universal response to seeing any restaurant, fast food place, or ice cream truck. It didn’t matter if the food at home was leftover spaghetti for the third night in a row. Eating out was for special occasions only.
This created a complex relationship with spending money on experiences. We learned that convenience was luxury, that paying for something you could do yourself was wasteful. Wealthy families taught their kids that time has value too, that sometimes paying for convenience is an investment in having time for more important things.
Even now, I have to actively override the voice that says getting takeout when I’m exhausted is somehow morally wrong.
6. “Turn off the lights, you’re running up the bill”
Every room transition involved a complex mental calculation about whether the lights stayed on. Leave for five minutes? Turn them off. Someone else still in there? Their responsibility now.
We became hyperaware of utility costs, understanding young that every action had a financial consequence. Wealthy kids probably knew to turn off lights too, but as a courtesy, not as economic survival.
This vigilance extended to everything: quick showers, layering clothes instead of turning up heat, unplugging appliances. We learned conservation as necessity while others learned it as virtue.
7. “That’s for rich people”
Certain things were automatically categorized as “not for us.” Private schools, certain stores, activities like skiing or tennis, even particular careers. It wasn’t said with bitterness, just matter-of-fact resignation.
This invisible fence shaped our ambitions. We learned to want less, to pre-reject ourselves from opportunities, to see certain spaces as inherently not ours. Wealthy kids grew up believing every door was potentially open to them.
The mental work of overriding this programming as an adult is exhausting. Walking into high-end stores still triggers that childhood feeling of not belonging, even when you’re holding the credit card that says you do.
8. “You don’t need name brands”
The generic versus name brand debate was real and frequent. We learned to see brands as frivolous, as paying extra for nothing but a logo. The irony was that sometimes the generic version was actually worse value, breaking faster or tasting different enough that you’d eat less of it.
But this was about more than groceries. It taught us that wanting quality was shallow, that caring about presentation was vain. Meanwhile, wealthy kids learned that quality often pays for itself over time, that presentation matters in how others perceive you, that investing in better things can be practical, not just aesthetic.
9. “Be grateful you have a roof over your head”
This came out whenever we complained about anything house-related. Sharing rooms, old appliances, the neighbor’s music through thin walls, it didn’t matter. We had shelter, end of discussion.
It taught gratitude, sure, but also that expecting more was ungrateful. That wanting better was somehow insulting to people who had less. Wealthy kids learned to expect comfort as baseline, not luxury.
The result is adults who feel guilty for wanting more even when they’ve earned it, who worry that upgrading their life somehow betrays where they came from.
Final thoughts
These phrases weren’t just words. They were programming, creating mental frameworks that followed us into adulthood. They taught us survival but not growth, conservation but not investment, gratitude but not ambition.
Understanding this isn’t about blame. Our parents did their best with what they had, teaching us to navigate the world they knew. But recognizing these patterns is the first step to rewriting them.
The most successful people I know who grew up like this didn’t just make more money. They did the harder work of changing their relationship with it. They learned to see opportunity instead of only risk, investment instead of only expense, abundance instead of only scarcity.
The dinner table conversations of our childhood shaped us, but they don’t have to define us. We can keep the good parts, the resilience, the creativity, the ability to find joy in simple things, while letting go of the limitations we inherited.
The real challenge isn’t earning enough to never say these phrases. It’s ensuring that even when we could say them, we choose words that open doors instead of closing them.
