Growing up middle-class taught me that the way we talk about money reveals more about our possibilities than our bank accounts ever could
Language reveals more than we realize. The phrases we use, the way we structure our sentences, the casual expressions we throw around without thinking—they all carry markers of where we come from.
I've noticed this my entire life, growing up in suburban Sacramento in a solidly middle-class household before moving to Los Angeles. The language patterns I absorbed from my parents and grandparents—who raised four kids on a teacher's salary—still slip out in ways I don't always catch until later.
Today, we're exploring ten phrases that tend to come from lower-middle-class backgrounds but rarely from wealthier ones. This isn't about judgment. It's about understanding how class shapes our communication in ways we rarely acknowledge.
Let's get into it.
1) "I can't afford it"
This one's pretty straightforward, but the difference is in how directly it's stated.
People from lower-middle-class backgrounds tend to be more explicit about financial limitations. If something costs too much, they'll say it plainly: "I can't afford that."
Wealthier people rarely frame things this way. Instead, you'll hear "It's not in the budget right now" or "I'm being strategic with my spending." Same basic meaning, different packaging.
The distinction matters because one statement sounds like a hard limit while the other implies choice and control. It's the difference between being constrained by circumstances and making deliberate decisions.
I caught myself doing this recently when a friend suggested an expensive restaurant. My immediate response was "That's out of my price range," which is pretty much the same thing but feels less... final somehow.
2) "That's for rich people"
This phrase creates a clear dividing line between "us" and "them."
Growing up, I heard this constantly. Certain restaurants were for rich people. Certain neighborhoods were for rich people. Certain hobbies, certain clothes, certain experiences—all categorized as belonging to some other world.
People from wealthier backgrounds don't talk this way because they don't see these invisible barriers. A nice restaurant is just a restaurant. An expensive hobby is just something you do or don't do based on interest, not identity.
The phrase reveals something deeper than financial limitation. It suggests a fundamental separation, a sense that certain parts of life simply aren't meant for you.
3) "We're doing alright"
When asked how things are going financially, lower-middle-class folks often default to this diplomatic middle ground.
Not great, not terrible. Just... alright.
It's a way of acknowledging struggle without complaining, of maintaining pride while being honest that things could be better. There's dignity in it, but also resignation.
Wealthier people tend to answer the same question with more specificity about projects, investments, or opportunities. The focus shifts from survival to growth.
My grandmother uses this phrase constantly. Even now, after working her entire life and volunteering at the food bank every Saturday, she'll tell you she's "doing alright" rather than admit she's actually doing quite well for someone her age.
4) "Maybe when I win the lottery"
This joke-that's-not-quite-a-joke appears constantly in lower-middle-class conversations.
Someone mentions a dream vacation or home renovation, and the response comes automatically: "Maybe when I win the lottery." Everyone laughs because it's absurd, but also because there's real longing underneath.
The phrase reveals how remote certain possibilities feel. They're not just unlikely—they require literal magic, a one-in-a-million stroke of luck.
People from wealthier backgrounds don't need the lottery as a reference point because significant changes feel more achievable. They might say "when I get my next promotion" or "after this project closes." Still aspirational, but grounded in actual plans rather than pure fantasy.
5) "I don't want to waste money"
The concept of "wasting" money carries different weight depending on your background.
Lower-middle-class people use this phrase constantly as justification for not buying something, not going somewhere, not trying something new. Money feels scarce enough that spending it wrong has serious consequences.
Wealthier people certainly care about value, but they frame it differently. They talk about "investments" and "returns" rather than waste. The underlying assumption is that money spent wisely generates more money or value, while lower-middle-class thinking often assumes money spent is just... gone.
I notice this in my own life constantly, especially living in expensive Los Angeles. I'll agonize over spending forty dollars on something I genuinely want because some part of my brain still categorizes it as wasteful rather than as a choice about what matters to me.
6) "That's not for people like us"
Similar to "that's for rich people" but even more loaded with identity.
This phrase doesn't just acknowledge financial difference—it suggests a fundamental otherness. Country clubs aren't just expensive; they're for a different type of person entirely. Same with certain colleges, certain careers, certain aspirations.
Research in behavioral science shows how these internalized boundaries shape actual behavior. When we believe something isn't "for us," we don't even explore whether it might be possible. The barrier becomes real before we ever test it.
People from wealthier backgrounds simply don't have this category in their thinking. Things are either interesting or not interesting, worth the cost or not worth it. But nothing is off-limits by default based on class identity.
7) "Let me check my account first"
The need to verify what's actually available before committing to any expense.
This is standard practice for people managing tight budgets. Before agreeing to dinner, to drinks, to basically anything involving money, there's that quick check to make sure the funds exist.
Wealthier people might check their accounts too, but it's less about verification and more about tracking. They're not worried about overdrafting; they're monitoring cash flow.
The difference is in the underlying anxiety. One represents scarcity thinking—making sure you actually have what you need. The other represents abundance thinking—keeping track of what's moving where.
8) "We make it work"
This phrase captures a whole philosophy of resourcefulness born from necessity.
Lower-middle-class people take pride in making do, in stretching resources, in figuring out creative solutions when the straightforward ones cost too much. "We make it work" is both explanation and badge of honor.
It's not that wealthier people don't problem-solve, but they're more likely to say "we hired someone" or "we upgraded to solve that issue." Throwing money at problems is an actual option.
I've used this phrase my entire life. When my partner and I were figuring out our kitchen situation—me being vegan, him definitely not—our solution was basically "we make it work" with separate cutting boards and some agreed-upon boundaries.
9) "When things settle down"
The hypothetical future when financial stability finally arrives and life gets easier.
Lower-middle-class people live with this perpetual sense of temporary struggle. Things are tough now, but when things settle down, when we get past this rough patch, when we catch a break—then we'll be able to relax, plan, dream.
Except things rarely settle down in any permanent way. Another expense appears. Another crisis hits. The settling down keeps getting postponed.
Wealthier people tend to operate from a baseline of stability rather than waiting for it to arrive. Their planning happens in the present, not in some future conditional state.
10) "At least we have each other"
This beautiful, heartbreaking phrase acknowledges lack while celebrating what remains.
Can't afford the vacation? At least we have each other. Can't buy the nice things? At least we have each other. Can't provide everything you wish you could? At least we have each other.
It's genuine. Family and connection matter enormously, regardless of economic status. But the phrase reveals an underlying assumption that material comfort and emotional connection are somehow in tension, that you get one or the other.
People from wealthier backgrounds simply don't frame it this way because they've never had to choose between financial security and relationships. Both exist simultaneously without the "at least" qualifier that suggests consolation prize.
My grandmother said this constantly when I was growing up, and she meant it. Her life has been rich in relationships and purpose, even when money was tight. But I also recognize now how the phrase carries a subtle resignation about what's possible.
The bottom line
Language is never just language. It carries the weight of experience, the boundaries of imagination, the possibilities we've been taught to see or ignore.
These phrases aren't wrong or bad. Many of them reflect genuine wisdom, resilience, and values that transcend economic status. The resourcefulness, the appreciation for relationships, the refusal to complain—these are strengths.
But it's worth noticing how class shapes our words because words shape our thinking. When we become aware of these patterns, we can choose which ones serve us and which ones limit us unnecessarily.
The goal isn't to talk like wealthy people. It's to recognize when our language reveals beliefs that no longer fit who we want to become.
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