The Moscow PR woman said that getting a salary of 3 thousand euros means being poor

Recently, an article appeared on the Internet, on the website of a fashion magazine, the author of which was a certain young lady working as a PR woman in Moscow. In the article, the girl frankly told how she makes ends meet, receiving a salary 25 times higher than the subsistence minimum, and described in detail her walks through the torments. We couldn't resist and decided to write about the "torment" of a poor (or not so) girl.

Keep in mind that the opinion of the editorial board may not coincide with the opinion of the author.

So, further from the words of the author: "I'm 30, and I'm tired. As a child, I did not just dream, but I was sure that I would be rich. What does wealth imply? A personal driver waiting for me at the door of at least a BMW executive class every morning. The housekeeper who steamed my suit and set the table with porridge, of course, with the prefix "bio". The opportunity to roll the dice at least once a year on a snow-white yacht somewhere near Saint-Tropez. Dissect snow slopes in three valleys with a beautiful instructor for 350 euros per day. Keep at least something in the safe… Have a safe! All this, as you can undoubtedly guess, I do not have. Accordingly, I am not rich, which means I am poor. My relatives, when they found out about my salary, exclaimed: "Wow!" If they knew…

A salary of three and a half thousand euros is often not enough for me until the end of the month, and I, oh horror, go to presentations and do not disdain canapes, because I hate borrowing money."

Source: Grazia

Do you already think I'm an idiot out of touch with reality? It's not like that at all. Now I will tell you about my expenses so that your indignantly raised eyebrows will fall into place.

So: renting a modest 50 squares within the Garden without grandma's wallpaper is 100 thousand rubles a month. And so far, fate has abandoned someone so that the wardrobe has settled in a separate three-room apartment on the Patriarchs. "Why is it necessary in the center?" — you ask. Alas, in the industry where I work, it's a shame to answer the question where to take you: "To Sokolniki."

Beauty routine. I go to the salon only when necessary, forgetting about Ayurvedic massages, floating chambers, peels, caviar hair masks and facial injections. And soon they will also be needed ... Manicure (of course, shellac, so as not to run for expensive correction every three days) and pedicure in Kynsi cost 20 thousand rubles a month. These are two trips to both.

I am a blonde, and being a blonde is very expensive, especially when you are naturally red—haired and do not want to look like Olga Buzova. Complex coloring by sane specialists and haircuts cost 20 thousand rubles a month.

Hair removal on Lycon wax (does not cause irritation and pain) costs 6 thousand rubles a month, since I have to do it twice. To put your eyebrows in order means to pay another 4 thousand a month. I have already learned to do the styling myself, otherwise I would have lived half-starved. I allow a coach in World Class once a week for three thousand, the rest of the time I'm working on group classes.

You've probably already done a simple calculation? I have 98 thousand free. Of these, 20 is spent on gatherings in restaurants with friends, and then infrequently, 40 — on products from the Danilovsky market and from the "ABC of Taste". 8 thousand flies to Uber (of course, not Black). There are 20 thousand left for unforeseen expenses. Don't you think about shopping, traveling, or postponing? I think — with longing and sadness. Of course: it costs 30 thousand rubles to fly to New York as a housekeeper, not to mention hotels, taxis, food, etc. It remains only to visualize. And if I had children who, of course, all the best? Golden diapers, kindergartens, schools, tutors…

And I'm not talking about the oligarchic scope and lifestyle of millionaires. In order to simply pull on the notorious middle class, without limiting myself in everything, I would have to receive at least 20 thousand euros.

Photo: rexfeatures.com

Where did I take the wrong turn? This question gnaws at me every time a friend, a top manager from PWH, looks after houses in Amalfi. I would have gone into another field, but with a diploma of a PR woman there is nothing to catch there. And the time has already been lost. While you learn, you will die ten times. Of course, in poverty. But is it just about education? My classmate is happily married to the owner of a construction business. She worked on it the same way I worked on getting the coveted position. As a result, I count the money, and she counts the carats, sitting in the Harry Winston boutique, from which she has never left empty—handed in my memory. A ring for 19 million rubles, bought by her with the same indifference as I bought a bottle of Chianti last Saturday? I would have saved for him for five years if I hadn't spent a penny on anything at all. And what am I after that? Not poor?

It seemed to us that even the definition of "overindulged" is too easy for this story