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Why I Lied About My Salary



Illustration of a young Nigerian female lawyer in a black gown holding a white wig, standing outside a modern building with boxes in the background, symbolizing career beginnings and professional growth.


The Lie I Told with My Chest

Years ago, when I got my first “real” job, I told my friends I was earning ₦250k.
It wasn’t true. I was earning ₦120k gross. After tax and pension, my take-home was about ₦103,000. But I rounded it up, doubled it, and said it confidently. Why the lie, you may ask? I don't know or maybe I do.


Nobody wants to be the broke friend. Especially when everyone else is talking about remote jobs in dollars, tech gigs, and “soft life.”
So, when someone in our group chat asked, “How much are they paying you at that law firm?
I panicked.
Not bad oh, around ₦250k,” I replied, pretending it was nothing. My chest was tight.


Living the Lie

The lie started small, Just one extra zero. But soon, it had me in a chokehold.
Now, I was expected to pick Uber over Danfo.

They invited me to lounge on the Island like I was earning foreign currency.
Once, I borrowed money to buy a dress for a birthday dinner because someone said, “With your salary, you fit afford am nau.”

That one stung.


I remember one weekend I couldn’t afford both food and transport. So, I chose food and skipped church.
That evening, someone from church texted, “Big girl like you, why didn’t we see you today?”
I laughed and sent a voice note: “I just needed rest abeg.”

The truth was, I had spent my last cash on yam and eggs.


Family Expectations, Real Struggles

Even my family didn't know the truth.
My aunt once said, “At least with your job now, you can be sending me ₦20k as  monthly allowance.”
I nodded.

But I hadn’t even bought my medication.
I couldn’t say no without revealing the truth and that would mean shame.

There’s an unspoken pressure in Nigeria: once you have a job, any job, you must be balling.
Nobody talks about how your salary finishes before it lands.
Or how half of it goes to transport and feeding.
Or how do you start the month calculating what can wait: data or rent?




The Breaking Point

A friend lost her job and asked me to lend her ₦100k “just till next month.”

I froze.

If I said I didn’t have it, she’d know I was lying.
If I gave it, I’d be broke for the rest of the month.

I sent ₦20k and said my “money is in piggyvest safe lock.”
That was the last time I lied about my salary.
The pressure was exhausting. And for what?


Choosing Truth Over Vibes

Now, I tell the truth.
Not everyone needs to know my exact income, but I no longer perform wealth I don’t have.

If a hangout is above my budget, I say so.
If you expect me to contribute to a group gift and I can't, I decline.
And when someone says, “Ah, big babe like you,”
I smile and say, 'Big in vibes, not in balance.'

Money made me lie.
But honesty is cheaper and it lasts longer.




Money Lessons I Learned (the hard way):
1. Don’t let shame drive your money decisions.
Pretending you're richer than you are only leads to debt, burnout, and stress. You’re not in competition with anyone.

2. Your budget should reflect your reality, not your image.
If you can't afford it, don’t do it. Real friends will understand. Anyone who mocks you for being honest about money isn’t your friend.

3. Be careful who you let pressure you.
Society will set unrealistic standards. You’re allowed to opt out. You’re allowed to say, “That’s not in my budget.”

4. Build financial boundaries.
You’re not wicked for saying “I can’t help right now.” You’re being responsible. Take care of your needs first.

5. Track your money.
Know how much you earn, how much you spend, and how much you save, even if the figures are small. What you track, you can improve.



So, let me ask you:
Have you ever felt pressure to lie about your salary, and is your bank account in on the lie?






I tell real money stories to break money shame, learn, and grow together.



















Comments

  1. I will try to live by this rule and always read whatever you publish. Thanks

    ReplyDelete

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