Money Talks

So, who said working at a university meant big money? I did.

Last year, as I was trying to find out which university would be the best between London, St Andrews and Bath, I started wondering about wages. I got in touch with the French lectrice in St Andrews who told me she was paid 1,200 pounds a month. So it became a little clearer that I actually wanted to do the job, so that I could get paid and finally afford a night-out at the restaurant or cinema from time to time. Yes, this is a good enough reason to leave my country.

But as I started the job here, I found out that my salary was little more than what I was paid as a language assistant 3 years ago, i.e. less than 1,000 pounds a month. I thought I would complain less about money, working in a higher education institution. I thought I was somehow part of the elite. I thought I could afford to save a bit towards a new electric guitar. Of course, I was wrong.

It's the same worries at the end of the month. How will I survive with 5 pounds left on my account for two weeks? If you want that job, you'd better like pasta.

The thing is, I get tricked every time. Every beginning of the month, I start acting like I had plenty of money. 400 pounds to spend after the rent is paid. Surely I can afford going out and buying a book or a CD from time to time? The truth is, you can't. Yes, you can survive with that money, but only if you live like a monk on a poverty vow.

Of course, I have no regrets. Living in Bath is still one of the best ideas I've had in my life. And I feel like I have no right to complain because I live in quite a nice flat, not too far from town, and I actually have a job. There's still something wrong with the fact that all of us lecteurs and lectrices end up depressed and anxious at the end of the month because we've already borrowed from our parents last time and we can't reasonably ask each other for loans. All we can do is moan about it over a fancy overpriced salad from the cafeteria at lunch.