9 things people who grew up lower middle class lie about to fit in at work — and the energy it takes to maintain those lies is something upper-class colleagues will never understand

You know that moment when a colleague casually mentions their family's ski cabin, and you nod along like you totally get it? Or when everyone's swapping boarding school stories, and you're frantically googling what "lacrosse" even is?

I've been there. Growing up in suburban Sacramento with a grandmother who raised four kids on a teacher's salary, the world of corporate America sometimes feels like stepping into a foreign country where everyone knows the language except you.

The exhausting part isn't just the lies themselves. It's the constant mental gymnastics required to maintain them, the energy spent calculating what you can and can't say, and the fear that one slip-up will reveal you as the imposter you feel like.

Here are the nine things many of us who grew up lower middle class find ourselves lying about, just to feel like we belong in professional spaces.

The vacation question dodge

"Where are you going for the holidays?" seems like such an innocent question. But when your coworkers are debating between Aspen and St. Moritz, admitting you're driving home to spend Christmas in your childhood bedroom hits different.

So we lie. We say we're "keeping it low-key this year" or "just staying local." We've perfected the art of making staycations sound intentional rather than financial.

The mental energy required to navigate these conversations without revealing that international travel wasn't part of your childhood lexicon? It's exhausting. You're constantly translating your reality into something more palatable, more professional, more... acceptable.

Your college experience wasn't what they think

When colleagues reminisce about their college years, they talk about study abroad semesters and unpaid internships at prestigious companies. They don't mention working three jobs to afford textbooks.

I've lost count of how many times I've smiled and nodded when someone assumes everyone had the "traditional" college experience. The truth? Many of us were commuting from home, taking night classes, or stretching a four-year degree into six because we could only afford part-time enrollment.

We don't mention the community college credits we transferred to save money. We don't talk about choosing our major based on job prospects rather than passion. These omissions aren't just lies – they're survival tactics in spaces where your path to the degree matters almost as much as the degree itself.

The family business that doesn't exist

Ever notice how many upper-middle-class professionals have a vague "family business" they could always fall back on? When you grow up without that safety net, you sometimes invent one.

Maybe you exaggerate your parent's job title, turning "shift supervisor" into "operations manager." Or you stay mysteriously vague about what your family does, letting people's assumptions fill in the blanks.

The Boston Consulting Group notes that "Employees from low socioeconomic backgrounds often face an uphill climb. They are less likely to have mentors who can help navigate unspoken expectations in the workplace, and many feel pressure to downplay their background in order to fit in."

This pressure creates a constant state of vigilance. You're always one family dinner conversation away from revealing that your safety net isn't a trust fund – it's the knowledge that your childhood bedroom is still available if everything falls apart.

Your relationship with money is complicated

Wealthy colleagues split dinner bills without checking their bank balance first. They invest in startups for fun. They talk about money with a casualness that feels foreign when you grew up watching your parents stress over every grocery receipt.

So we pretend. We act like we're not doing mental math when someone suggests an expensive restaurant for team lunch. We don't mention that we're still paying off credit card debt from when we were unemployed two years ago.

The performance is exhausting. Pretending that a $200 dinner is no big deal when that's your weekly grocery budget. Acting like you're "choosing" to live with roommates at 35 rather than admitting you can't afford your own place in LA.

Hiding your actual hobbies

Your coworkers spend weekends at wine tastings, golf courses, and boutique fitness studios. Your actual hobbies? Thrift shopping, finding free events, and perfecting cheap meal prep recipes.

But you can't say that. So you develop a roster of acceptably middle-class interests. You talk about "hiking" (walking in the local park), "exploring new restaurants" (checking out happy hour specials), and "getting into wine" (buying the $8 bottle instead of the $5 one).

I've watched colleagues bond over their shared love of activities that cost more than my monthly entertainment budget. The loneliness of not being able to participate authentically in these conversations is something upper-class colleagues will never understand.

Your network isn't what they assume

When everyone's dropping names and talking about connections, you realize your network looks different. Your uncle isn't a VP at a Fortune 500 company – he drives a delivery truck. Your college roommate isn't working at a prestigious law firm – they're managing a retail store.

So you stay quiet during networking conversations. You don't mention that your most valuable connection is your grandmother who volunteers at the food bank every Saturday, teaching you more about resilience than any CEO ever could.

The lie here is often one of omission. You let people assume your network mirrors theirs because explaining the truth feels like admitting you don't belong.

Pretending you understand their references

Private school traditions, country club etiquette, the difference between Yale and Princeton culture – these references fly around professional spaces like inside jokes you're not in on.

You become an expert at context clues, at laughing when others laugh, at quickly googling unfamiliar terms in the bathroom. You pretend to understand references to experiences you've only seen in movies.

The mental load of constantly translating their world into something you can understand while simultaneously hiding your confusion? It's a full-time job on top of your full-time job.

Your living situation is strategic, not chosen

That long commute you have? It's not because you love driving. It's because you live where you can afford to live. But admitting that feels like wearing a sign that says "I don't make enough money to live near work."

So you frame it differently. You talk about preferring the "community feel" of your distant neighborhood. You mention the "great local spots" without mentioning they're great because they're affordable.

Designer everything (that isn't)

The Expert Editor observes that "People from truly wealthy backgrounds tend to do the opposite. They prefer 'quiet luxury' — subtle, well-made items without logos. Because when you're secure in your status, you don't need your clothes to introduce you."

Yet here we are, carefully curating a professional wardrobe from discount stores and sale racks, hoping no one notices that our "investment pieces" are actually just the same three outfits on rotation.

The anxiety of wondering if someone will recognize your Target blazer or notice that your laptop bag is pleather, not leather? It adds a layer of stress to every interaction that those born into privilege simply don't carry.

Wrapping up

The tragedy isn't that we tell these lies. It's that professional spaces often require them for survival. The energy we spend maintaining these facades could be channeled into our actual work, into innovation, into building genuine connections.

But until workplace culture evolves to truly value diversity – not just in race and gender but in class background – many of us will continue this exhausting performance.

The next time you hear someone deflect a question about their weekend plans or stay mysteriously vague about their background, consider that they might be protecting themselves in the only way they know how.

Because the truth is, the lies aren't really about deceiving others. They're about surviving in spaces that weren't built for us, carrying the weight of worlds that rarely intersect, and trying to build careers while constantly translating between two different languages of success.