Sian Jones used to work a high-flying - and high pressure - job on the Lord of the Rings. She gave it up and moved to remote Golden Bay, where she was pictured in 2020 with, from left, stepson Rowan Jones, husband Clayton Jones and son Jules Jones.
It’s a pearl of wisdom so solid money expert Mary Holm slapped it into the opening pages of her bright yellow personal finance book Rich Enough?
“Yes”, Catch-22 author Joseph Heller had agreed when friend Kurt Vonnegut pointed to their billionaire party host and said the hedge-fund manager had made more money in a single day than Heller ever earned from his satirical war novel.
“But I have something he will never have,” Heller said.
Especially, Holm said, because while we all need - for example - somewhere to live, how much we’re paying right now for that basic human need can range from nil to income-scorching depending what stage of the home-owning stage you’re at, or if you’re renting.
“I don’t like them correlating income and happiness … because it’s so varied. And secondly, when [the number] is that high a level, it’s gonna make people unhappy reading it, because they don’t get that much.”
So, beyond the obvious drawbacks of not earning enough to meet your basic needs, what actually is enough in a country where the average household income in 2022 was $117,126?
London-native Sian Jones calls a house truck on remote Tākaka Hill in the Nelson region home and when her part-time job ended recently, the lump sum payout that arrived in her bank account briefly felt like a Lotto win.
“But then I couldn’t think of anything I’d really want to go out and buy. I’m very content with what I have, and family is the most precious thing.”
Jones had earlier ditched the 12 to 15-hour, six-day weeks working behind the scenes of the Lord of the Rings film trilogy to settle, after a few other jobs and some travel, on a patch of land on Tākaka Hill overlooking Golden Bay.
The Brit worked as a publicist in the film industry for 20 years before a summer holiday - on the Tākaka Hill land co-owned by her future husband - was wrecked by a crisis involving the wrangling of visa extensions for vital Lord of the Rings staff.
“[This] took away my much-needed holiday break. A black cloud over everything.”
As well as raising two kids - the youngest now 16 - she’d long worked four days a week to ensure enough time for parenting and developing their land, which includes an orchard and vege patch.
The only extra she wants for, and feels ocean-surrounded Kiwis are hindered in, is the ability to soak up the benefits of travel at little cost, as those in Europe can.
“It’s sad for New Zealand that you have to spend so much money to go and experience another culture.”
And cost of living has been a bit more of a struggle this year - on her last trip to town she was shocked to see kumara prices had topped $20/kg, Jones said.
But any new job will be on her own terms, on projects she has an emotional connection to and can hopefully work on independently with her husband, who has a background in sound for music festivals.
How much money they make comes second to projects matching their values, the 58-year-old said.
“The older you get, you really understand what you want.”
People struggling to reach that point were among those who came to her for help, former Whanganui health and life coach Steph Brunt said.
“The majority of work that I did with my clients was around purpose and connection. People who were feeling lost or trapped, unsure what their reason for getting out of bed was because they didn’t know what their purpose was, what their values were.”
Brunt, who switched back to corporate communications work this year, counted among her clients those whose high incomes were not bringing them happiness, including mums trying to juggle careers and running a household.
“And therefore they were [putting themselves] at the bottom of the list.”
One client was on “amazing” money but working long hours, feeling guilty about not being there for her kids, unable to find time for exercise and feeling like she was incompetent at her job “as opposed to a reflection of where the organisation was at”, Brunt said.
“So yeah, she was on a fantastic wage, but she was far from happy.”
Even reaching the $193,727 annual income researchers at Purdue University thought was necessary for happiness in New Zealand - let alone dealing with the potential woe it brings - would be the first hurdle for most of us.
That figure, worked out by looking at the relation of income to quality of life and using a sample of 1.7 million individuals worldwide to create a global league table, “is quite a high number”, a Frontline Recruitment Group employment and careers’ advisor told the Herald.
Senior management and executive roles were the most likely to earn ambitious Kiwis incomes nudging $200,000, the advisor said.
“Such as directors of heads of departments, general managers or C-Suites. Working with a specialist recruiter is often the best way to work towards getting these types of jobs.”
But, like Holm, the recruitment agency knew from its own research happiness was about a whole lot more than dollars and cents.
A poll of more than 600 Kiwi workers this year dug deep into what inspired those who loved their jobs so much they didn’t want to leave.
Flexibility, opportunities for professional growth and development were what made the difference.
“[And] feeling proud about the impact they had in their role.”
Cherie Howie is an Auckland-based reporter who joined the Herald in 2011. She has been a journalist for more than 20 years and specialises in general news and features.