If you hear someone say these 9 phrases, they’re pretending to be rich

I spent a decade as a financial analyst, which basically meant living behind spreadsheets and watching what people actually did with their money.

These days I write about the psychology of it all, and one pattern keeps showing up: performative wealth. You’ll hear it before you see it.

If someone is genuinely wealthy, they’re often quiet about it. If someone wants you to think they’re wealthy, they tend to use the same handful of phrases—status signals in sentence form.

Here are nine of the biggest tells, why they raise my eyebrows, and what truly comfortable people say (or don’t say) instead.

Before we dive in, one quick frame: the economist Thorstein Veblen coined “conspicuous consumption” to describe spending as a public display of status. It’s not new; we’ve just updated the props.

1. “Money is no object.”

Whenever I hear this, I think: if it truly weren’t, you wouldn’t need to announce it.

Most financially secure people still compare prices and think in terms of value. They don’t equate high cost with high intelligence.

What I listen for instead: quiet questions about total cost of ownership, maintenance, resale value, or opportunity cost—things you ask when you’re thinking beyond the purchase high.

Try this reframe for yourself: “Money is an object—I just choose how it serves me.”

2. “I never look at prices.”

I’m all for ease and treating yourself.

But “I never look at prices” usually signals someone looking for an audience. People who’ve built wealth tend to be selective about where they direct their attention—and their dollars.

One of my mentors used to say, “Always glance at the long-term price tag.”

Translation: what habits does this purchase lock in? How often will it make you spend again?

3. “I fly private / I only do five-star.”

Could be true. But when it’s volunteered in casual conversation, it’s a press release, not a plan.

Real travelers who can afford comfort rarely lead with brand tiers. They talk logistics: schedules, routes, whether a place is actually quiet enough to sleep.

A quick gut check: If you need the label to validate the experience, the experience isn’t doing the job.

4. “I’ve got people for that.”

I love good help. I also love humility. “I’ve got people for that” is the verbal equivalent of sunglasses indoors.

If someone genuinely employs experts, they tend to use people’s actual names—“our bookkeeper” or “Maria on our team”—and they talk about outcomes, not optics.

If you catch yourself saying this, consider a simpler version: “I get help with that.” You’ll signal competence without the peacock feathers.

5. “I didn’t even check what it cost.”

Bragging about financial incuriosity is wild to me. In my analyst days, the clients who grew wealthiest developed a calm, almost boring rhythm with money: check, choose, move on.

It wasn’t dramatic. It was deliberate.

There’s also a well-documented mental health angle here. Materialism (and chasing its signals) correlates with lower well-being on average, according to a large meta-analysis.

So throwing money around for effect may get attention, but it doesn’t necessarily buy happiness.

6. “I’m friends with the owner.”

Name-dropping is the audio version of a logo belt. Relationships matter—but we notice who brings them up and why.

People who are truly connected protect those connections. They don’t spend them for social points at dinner.

Small reframe: “I know the team there—they’re great” quietly conveys access without making the relationship a trophy.

7. “I make [huge number] in passive income while I sleep.”

Could be legit. But more often, the numbers are fuzzy and the risk is airbrushed out. The giveaways: no specifics, shifting definitions, and zero discussion of taxes, time, or volatility.

Here’s what credibility sounds like: “We net about X per year from two rentals after all expenses, including reserves.” Specifics strip away theater.

As the writer Morgan Housel puts it, “Wealth is what you don’t see.” In other words, it’s the dollars quietly compounding in accounts, not the story you tell about them.

8. “Budgets are for broke people.”

Budgets are just boundaries with a calculator. The wealthiest families I worked with didn’t call it “budgeting,” but they tracked, reviewed, and adjusted continuously. They knew their run rate.

If the word itself makes you itch, rename it. Call it a “spending roadmap” or a “cash plan.” (I keep a simple monthly view that shows fixed costs, flex money, savings targets, and one fun splurge. Takes ten minutes. Saves headaches.)

9. “I only buy the best.”

“The best” according to whom? The herd? The algorithm?

“Best” in money talk often means “most expensive and most visible.” Veblen would call that textbook conspicuous consumption—purchases meant to signal status more than solve problems.

Real wealth prioritizes fit over flex. The best coffee maker is the one you’ll actually clean. The best car is the one that starts every morning and doesn’t swallow your free cash flow.

So what do genuinely comfortable people say?

They don’t narrate their net worth. They ask better questions:

• “What’s the downside I’m not seeing?”

• “How much maintenance will this create?”

• “What’s the simple version that still works?”

• “How will this age—financially and emotionally?”

They also talk about trade-offs. They’ll pass on the fancy kitchen to keep cash liquid for a business idea. They’ll upgrade the mattress and keep the car another year. And they’re comfortable with the most underrated flex of all: silence.

A quick story from the spreadsheet trenches

Years ago, I worked with two couples earning about the same.

Couple A had the glossy life: luxury lease, designer vacations, “never look at prices” energy. Couple B looked almost…boring. Paid-off hatchback, unphotogenic house, hand-me-down furniture that honestly needed a hug.

Five years later, Couple B had a fully funded emergency fund, six figures in index funds, and the freedom to take a lower-paying dream job. Couple A had nicer photos, bigger monthly payments, and chronic anxiety.

No judgment—just patterns. Couple B lived Housel’s line in real time: the wealth you don’t see.

How to sanity-check your own signals

If some of these phrases popped uncomfortably onto your radar, you’re not alone. I’ve slipped into performative moments, too—usually when I’m tired, stressed, or wanting to belong. When that itch hits, I use three questions:

1. What am I trying to prove—and to whom? If there’s a specific audience in mind, that’s a clue I’m drifting away from my own values.

2. What outcome do I want here? Connection? Competence? Safety? There’s almost always a cleaner path to the real goal than signaling with spending.

3. What would the boring, rich version of me do? She comparison-shops, picks for fit, and moves on with her day.

Better phrases to swap in

If you want your language to align with real financial confidence, try these instead:

• “I’m choosing value over labels on this one.”

• “I like splurging here and saving there.”

• “I checked the numbers—it still makes sense.”

• “I get help with that.”

• “We keep it simple; that’s how we sleep.”

They’re quiet. They’re grounded. And they steer you toward choices that build—not just broadcast—security.

Final thoughts

The point isn’t to police anyone’s speech or to shame a treat-yourself moment.

It’s to protect your peace (and your plan) from the performative pull that’s everywhere. If you catch one of these nine phrases drifting into your mouth, pause.

Ask what you’re truly after—respect, ease, belonging—and try a calmer, more honest sentence instead.

Your future self doesn’t need an audience. She needs options. And those are built in the unglamorous, unposted moments—when you choose fit over flex, clarity over clout, and wealth you don’t have to talk about.