What I Spent This Week as a Life Sciences Product Manager Making £118k

Ever wondered how others really manage their money?

In the A Week in My Wallet series, we share it all, because talking about money shouldn't be off-limits.

Every week, an anonymous member shares a week of their spending: no names, no filters, just honest stories about life's everyday financial choices.

Ready to join the conversation and help make money talk less taboo? Share your own story via our form here.

Monthly Take-Home Pay (after tax): £8k

‍Do you share expenses with someone? No

What is your overall monthly budget?

• Rent: £3k
• Bills: £600
• Groceries: £500

Amount left each month after essentials (to spend, save or invest): £3.5k

Dependents (if any): No, but spoiling my nieces and nephews

My Relationship with Money

Growing up, did your parents or guardians educate you around money?‍

Yes and no. I was always told to spend below my means, avoid debt at all costs, and remember that money is earned through hard work. Those fundamentals were drilled in deep and they’ve served me well — I’ve never carried consumer debt, and I still feel a physical resistance when I consider spending recklessly. But that’s where the education stopped. Nobody taught me how to budget. Nobody mentioned investing or compound interest. The message was: work hard, be careful, don’t spend.

A philosophy rooted in survival — my dad’s communism-era upbringing, where holding onto what you had was the only strategy. It just didn’t come with the next chapter: how to actually grow your money. I had to write that chapter myself, years later, and I’m still adding pages.

What was your first job and why did you get it?‍

I was the youngest of three sisters, which meant I wore their clothes and played with their hand-me-down toys long after they’d moved on. I didn’t resent it, but somewhere in my teens I developed a quiet, burning desire to have my own money. Not to spend recklessly — just to feel what independence tasted like.

So at sixteen, I found a summer job at a cookie factory near my small hometown — a proper physical production line. I threw myself into it and discovered something that has followed me into every role since: an almost stubborn work ethic. I was promoted before the summer was over. But the bigger lesson was about limits. Standing on that factory floor for hours, body aching, I realised I didn’t want to spend my life working that hard just to get by. That summer gave me two things: the confidence that I could outwork almost anyone, and the clarity that I needed to direct that energy towards building a life with more choices.

Did you worry about money growing up?‍

Not in the way some people do but there was always an undercurrent. My dad grew up under communism, in genuine poverty, and that shaped everything about how he handled money. He was frugal by philosophy, almost by instinct. Even when we had more than enough, he carried himself as though the bad times could come back any day. We had a computer and internet when I was only five, so we weren’t deprived!

While I appreciate now that those values gave me an incredible foundation, at the time they created a hunger in me. Not for wealth exactly, but for the freedom to spend money on things I actually liked without feeling guilty. That hunger has never fully gone away — it just evolved into a drive towards financial independence, the kind where I never have to rely on anyone else’s definition of “enough.”

At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?‍

I moved out for university and my dad supported me partially through my studies into my early twenties. But I was always working on the side — summer jobs abroad, tutoring during the year — anything to not feel entirely dependent. By my mid-twenties, I was paying for everything myself.

My safety net is primarily me, myself, and I. I’ve built it through years of saving and investing — I taught myself about the stock market in my twenties and pushed through the fear until it became second nature. I know that if things truly fell apart, my parents would never let me be without a roof. But emotionally, going back home would feel like crawling backwards. My safety net is the one I’ve woven with my own hands, and I intend to keep it strong enough that I never have to test anyone else’s.

Do you worry about money now?‍

Constantly — but not in the way I expected. I earn about £150k, which sounds comfortable until you’re living alone in London. My rent is £3,000 a month. Council tax with the single-person discount is still around £110. And then there’s the £100k tax trap. I’m trying to mitigate it through pension contributions and buying extra annual leave, but every strategy feels like a compromise. I’d rather invest that money on my own terms.

What keeps me up isn’t day-to-day spending — it’s the bigger picture. I’m mid-thirties, single, renting, working remotely in one of the most expensive cities in the world. The system doesn’t help — no second income to split rent, no partner’s salary for the mortgage broker, council tax at 75% of the couple’s rate as if one person uses 75% of the streetlights. When family sees my salary, they wonder why I haven’t bought a place or settled down. They see the number. They don’t see the reality behind it.

What is your biggest money regret?‍

Not buying property and not building a proper financial plan when my salary started growing. I’ve watched London prices climb year after year, telling myself “next year” while the gap between me and the property ladder widened. Part of it was indecision — to buy or not to buy, will I stay or will I go, on a single income, in this city. Part of it was the absence of a system. I wasn’t irresponsible — no debt, no reckless spending — but I wasn’t strategic either.

In a city like London, being vaguely sensible with money isn’t enough. You need a plan. I’m only now learning that I need to build one, and I wish I’d started years ago.

What financial goals are you working towards?‍

My north star is financial freedom — the kind where work becomes optional, not obligatory. I dream of reaching a point where I can choose how to spend my time, pursue meaningful work, contribute to causes I care about, and leave something behind that matters. However, I don’t know if I have a discipline to get myself there because of my “don’t deprive yourself” character. I spent money on coffees and crazy expensive cycling hobby! And I live in London where technically, I could be anywhere else in the world.

So.. more immediately, I’m trying to figure out the property question. Beneath all of it, I’ve realized that I need something less tangible but just as important: building an actual financial system. A budget that works. A strategy I trust. A plan that accounts for who I am — someone who values freedom, experiences, and generosity — rather than one that asks me to become someone I’m not.

Who is your financial role model (if any), and why?‍

Simran Kaur, the founder of Friends That Invest. I started following her back when it was still called Girls That Invest, and she was one of the first people who made investing feel accessible rather than intimidating. She made it clear that women had every right to be in that space, and she gave me the push I needed to stop being afraid of the stock market.

Reflections on My Spending Habits:

My daily spending is actually pretty modest — matcha and groceries, mostly. It’s the bigger, less frequent purchases that swing the numbers: flights to see friends, cycling kit, a night out. And I don’t regret any of them. What strikes me looking at this week is the gap between how disciplined I am in the small moments — the 14-day rule, cooking at home, making matcha on Tuesday instead of buying one — and how absent a real strategy is for the big picture.

I have the instincts of a saver but not the infrastructure of one. I budget by feel, not by system, and at my income level that’s leaving money on the table. The other thing I can’t ignore is how much of my spending is shaped by being single. There’s no one to split the rent, the groceries, the flights, the council tax. Every cost is 100% mine. I’m not bitter about it — I’ve chosen this life and I love my freedom. But when I look at £746 in a week and know that doesn’t even touch the £3,000 rent or the taxes, I understand why financial independence feels both urgent and far away.

I’m proud that I invest, proud that I don’t carry debt, proud that I spend on things that genuinely make me feel alive. I just need to match that emotional clarity with an actual plan. That’s the next chapter.

What I Spent in a Week

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Day 1: Monday - £36.95
Oat matcha latte — £4.55
Waitrose groceries (salmon, greens, avocados, crackers, berries, organic kombucha) — £32.40‍

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Day 2: Tuesday - £5.25
Flat white, Hermanos Colombian — £5.25‍

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Day 3: Wednesday - £45.30
Oat matcha latte, Department of Coffee and Social Affairs — £5.55
Waitrose groceries (chicken thighs, sweet potatoes, tahini, kale, lemons, eggs) — £34.50
Streaming subscriptions, weekly share (Apple TV + Spotify) — £5.2

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‍Day 4: Thursday - £354.55
Oat matcha latte — £4.55
Cycling clothes (jersey + bib tights, end-of-season discount) — £350.00‍

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Day 5: Friday - £246.15
Oat matcha latte — £4.55
Return flights London City to Zurich — £180.00
Uber to airport (booked) — £43.00
Waitrose top-up (oat milk, bananas, chickpeas, bottle of wine) — £18.6

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‍Day 6: Saturday - £150.00
Concert (ticket + drinks + Ubers + late-night food) — £150.00‍

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Day 7: Sunday - £150.55
Flat white — £4.55
Clothes — £146.00

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Total Weekly Spend: £988.75

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