Dollars for Death: How Our Financial Lives Are Built on Waiting to Die

 

Obsessing over savings and investments is just a societal game that makes our inevitable end more expensive, not more meaningful.

Life is like a bank account—if you spend too much time trying to save, you’ll miss out on the interest of actually living. Our financial lives, if you think about it, seem like one long strategy game where we balance between earning, spending, saving, and sometimes going into debt. But isn’t it all just a game we play while waiting to die? If that’s the case, we might as well do a good job of it. After all, what else is there? The daily grind of making sure your account balance stays in the black until the curtain closes is the rhythm of modern life.

Historically, money has always been central to survival, but modern society has twisted this necessity into an all-consuming pursuit. Think about it: from birth, we are told to study hard to get a good job, save for retirement, invest wisely, and hopefully, someday, enjoy the fruits of our labor. Yet, in the end, no matter how well we play the game, the result is the same—we all die, and none of the money follows us. "You can’t take it with you," as the old saying goes, but we act as though we can.

Take a look at recent data: The average American works around 90,000 hours over their lifetime, yet nearly 64% of Americans still live paycheck to paycheck. And why? Because the financial system we participate in is designed to keep us constantly moving—either climbing the ladder or scrambling to hold on to whatever rung we’ve managed to grasp. This constant hustle is less about building a better life and more about survival. The Federal Reserve reports that about 40% of adults wouldn’t be able to cover an unexpected $400 expense without borrowing or selling something. Does that sound like freedom or security to you?

Consider the story of billionaire Steve Jobs, who, at the peak of his career, controlled vast wealth and power. Yet, when he faced a terminal illness, he reflected on how empty the financial achievements felt. "Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me. Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful—that’s what matters to me," he once said. His words underscore the stark reality that our financial lives are, at their core, a temporary distraction from our inevitable fate. Jobs wasn’t alone in this realization. Across history, countless others have echoed similar sentiments, warning that while money may be essential for survival, it isn’t a guarantee of happiness or fulfillment.

Yet, society tells us otherwise. Everywhere we turn, we are bombarded with messages about how to “secure our future,” “build wealth,” or “achieve financial independence.” The idea that wealth equals freedom is deeply ingrained in the modern psyche. But is that really the case? Or is financial security just another carrot on a stick that we chase until we can no longer run? American philosopher Henry David Thoreau once said, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and today’s financial landscape only deepens that desperation. We work harder, longer, and sacrifice more, all in the name of securing a future that may never come. In essence, our financial lives are nothing more than what we do while waiting to die.

Ironically, the harder we work to achieve financial security, the less secure we seem to feel. The stock market is a rollercoaster, student loan debt is at an all-time high of $1.77 trillion, and housing prices continue to soar beyond reach for many. The median home price in the U.S. has now surpassed $400,000, making homeownership a distant dream for younger generations. And yet, we are still told to save and invest like this financial house of cards won’t collapse at any moment.

Even laws designed to protect us financially often work against the average citizen. In 1978, the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in *Marquette National Bank of Minneapolis v. First of Omaha Service Corp* allowed national banks to charge the highest interest rates permitted in their home states, leading to the explosion of credit card debt. Instead of fostering financial independence, the ruling gave rise to a new form of bondage, where the average household today carries over $6,000 in credit card debt alone. And this is just one example of how the system keeps people locked in a cycle of earning and spending, always on the edge of financial collapse.

But what’s the alternative? Should we simply stop caring about money altogether and live with reckless abandon? Of course not. The point is not to reject the necessity of money but to understand its place in our lives. Money is a tool, not the goal. The more we make it our sole focus, the more we lose sight of what really matters—relationships, experiences, and purpose.

If our financial lives are what we do while waiting to die, then we might as well do a good job. And by “good job,” I don’t mean accumulating as much wealth as possible. I mean being smart, intentional, and realistic about the role money plays. We should strive for balance, ensuring that while we save for the future, we also live in the present. A recent survey by the financial firm Charles Schwab found that only 33% of Americans have a written financial plan, but those who do are significantly more likely to feel “very confident” about reaching their financial goals. Planning, not obsessing, is key.

So, while the financial treadmill may seem like a never-ending race toward an inevitable end, there’s no need to run ourselves into the ground. Instead, let’s use money as the tool it was meant to be, not as a measure of our worth or a means of escaping mortality. Because in the end, whether we save every penny or spend it all, the result is the same—our final balance sheet won’t matter.

And who knows? Maybe when we’re gone, our debt will be the only thing left alive, haunting the living like a satirical ghost from beyond the grave. After all, if we’re all just waiting to die, we might as well leave someone else to pay the bill.