A Week In Boston On A $199,500 Salary

Occupation: Physician associate and egg donor
Industry: Healthcare
Age: 27
Location: Boston
Salary: $199,500.00. This includes $144,000 base salary and $14,000 bonus; $40,000 from an egg donation cycle; and $1,500 from a course instructor position with my former employer. My partner and I do not share finances.
Assets: 401(k): $35,900; brokerage managed with Vanguard digital advisor: $27,800; Roth IRA: $25,800; HYSA/emergency fund: $10,200; 403(b): $9,800 (I cannot roll this over, since I am still technically employed on a contract basis); HSA: $900
Debt: Student loans: $50,400; credit card debt: $5,300
Paycheck Amount (2x/month): $6,008
Pronouns: She/her

Monthly Expenses

Housing Costs: $2,250 for a studio with parking.
Loan Payments: $305 per month (this is a minimum, and I am putting my egg donor compensation towards loans).
Electricity: ~$50
Gym Membership: $45
Car Payment: $250 (to my parents, who paid for my car in full).
Car Insurance: $140 (I pay for my partner’s car insurance while he is in graduate school.)
Gas: $100
Internet: $25
Spotify: $20 (I pay for my family and my friend who is in medical school. My parents are not charging me interest on the car loan, so I consider this my interest. My friend put herself through college and so I consider this balancing the scales.)
Donations: $50 ($25 to a reproductive justice nonprofit and $25 to an ocean conservation fund).

Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
My paternal grandparents are Asian immigrants who imparted a strong value of education to my father as well as their grandchildren. I was strongly expected to attend higher education, and I saw college as a way out of the sleepy hometown I grew up in. I am grateful to have received generous financial aid from my college, and my parents paid for the remainder. I paid for my graduate school and accrued a little over $100,000 in student debt.

Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances?
My father lost his job in the 2008 recession, and our family financially struggled for some time while I was a teenager. During this time, my parents were very open about the need for frugality, and though I didn’t understand it at the time, they were exceptionally disciplined and provided me with a great model of fiscal responsibility. My parents pushed me to start saving for retirement when I began working at 15 and develop an emergency fund when I became financially independent at 21. I actually recently finished a book that they gave me seven (!) years ago, The Only Investment Guide You’ll Ever Need by Andrew Tobias, which I would highly recommend for folks hoping to learn about capital gains tax.

What was your first job and why did you get it?
My first W2 job was as a lifeguard at a local pool at 15. My parents were insistent on us getting jobs to learn the value of working and adding some structure to our summers, and I am very grateful for this push.

Did you worry about money growing up?
After my father lost his job, I was very conscious that we were more financially strapped than my middle-class neighbors.

Do you worry about money now?
Somewhat. I am over $5,000 in credit card debt, a result of a travel-heavy and budget-light summer. I have the means to pay this off within three or four months, but it’s evidence that I need to be more conscious about my spending, and I worry about the effect of a balance on my credit score. 

I left graduate school at 21 years old, with a little over $100,000 in student debt. Shortly after, I made the decision to undergo egg donation, which has lifted but not completely eradicated the anxiety of that student debt. (In the US, financial compensation for egg donation is legal and this process was done through an established agency. I worked with reproductive law attorneys and escrow companies in each cycle.) Being an egg donor has enabled me to pay almost half of my student debt. I have undergone two cycles of egg donation with two different couples — for the first, I set a fee of $30,000. For the second, I set a fee of $40,000. I am currently undergoing another cycle for $40,000 — in the week I describe below, I travel to San Diego for a medical screening appointment for this cycle. There is not a lot of data on egg donor compensation (to the detriment of donors who are trying to negotiate), but from what I understand, this is at the higher end — compensation can be dependent on ethnicity, alma mater, etc. The decision to be an egg donor has been a complicated decision medically, ethically, and personally, but I am so grateful for the financial freedom that this has afforded me, as well as the sense of purpose.

On a more personal note, I am queer, and all the couples I have donated to are LGBTQ+. It has been personally meaningful to contribute to these families in this way. I am saddened and outraged by recent decisions and rhetoric that have threatened the rights and safety of LGBTQ+ people in the US.

At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?
I became financially responsible when I graduated from college at 21. My parents supported me through college, but after the graduation cap came on, I knew I was on my own. I took out student loans for a master’s level clinical training program. I know I could move in with my parents if I needed it and that they would support me in a life event, but in general, they have set strong boundaries about financial assistance.

Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain.
My parents purchased a car outright for me when I graduated from my master’s program and paid the down payment ($11,000) with the expectation that I would pay them the remaining $16,000 over time.

5:30 a.m. — My alarm blares and I jump out of bed. I finish packing, say goodbye to my cat, and rush out the door to catch an Uber to the airport ($15.93, reimbursed). I am headed to San Diego for a medical screening appointment with the IVF clinic that I am working with, and I have a bag packed for the 36-hour trip. It’s snowing lightly when I leave. I skip my usual coffee at the airport and opt for a mediocre egg and cheese sandwich, water bottle, and Clif bars for the road. $29.92

12 p.m. (now PT) — I sleep the entire flight and touch down in sunny San Diego. I take an Uber ($26.96, reimbursed) and pay the expediency fee to check into the hotel early. $30

1 p.m. — My caffeine withdrawal evaporates halfway into an oak milk latte from Starbucks, and I also indulge in an impossible sausage sandwich ($25 for reloading on the mobile app). $25

2 p.m. — I head to the IVF clinic for my appointment ($11.69 for the Uber, reimbursed). The physician is kind and personable and also relies heavily on paper charts and handwritten notes, which makes my brain ache as my own clinical practice is entirely digital. I leave the appointment with a sheet of paper with an illegible scrawl and relief that it’s a healthcare team that I trust. I have met the couple who I am donating to on Zoom before I committed to a cycle; I likely won’t connect with them again except with lawyers as intermediaries. 

5 p.m. — I take an Uber to my brother’s place in Pacific Beach ($28.82). I meet his girlfriend for the first time, and we have a nice dinner together at a Hawaiian restaurant right on the coast, which my brother and I split ($102.63). $131.45

8 p.m. — It’s 11 p.m. East Coast time, and I’m exhausted. I fall asleep in the king-size bed.

6:30 a.m. — Still on East Coast time, I wake up naturally and head to the hotel gym to kill some time. I run through a Pilates circuit and some resistance training and then go to the hotel breakfast bar, loading up on a bagel, hash browns, a yogurt, and eggs. I’m a big breakfast person.

10 a.m. — I head to the airport ($26.96, reimbursed). Another oat milk latte (I am so scared to experience the caffeine crash that I did yesterday) and some Clif bars. $22.81

9:30 p.m. (Back in ET) — I touch down and take an Uber straight to my apartment in Boston ($32.82, reimbursed). My boyfriend, H., meets me there and we watch Didi, a fantastic movie about race, adolescence, and immigrant parents. I order a Green Goddess salad, kombucha, and sweet potato side from Sweetgreen via Uber Eats. $35.08

9 a.m. — After starting the day with coffee and another Clif bar, I do my long run for the week along the Charles River: 12.5 miles at a 9:05 mile pace. It is my first double-digit run of this training cycle; I am training to do a marathon with a friend who lives in Austin. The race is in February, and I am hoping that everything with the present egg donation cycle moves slowly enough that I can still run this race. I feel good until my knees start protesting vehemently from two cross-country flights.

12 p.m. — I am making my standard post-long-run snack (scrambled eggs) and a Greek yoghurt smoothie when I notice that the nonstick pan has several scratches on it. It’s the last straw in my growing concern about contaminants in cooking. After conferring with H. about what kind of kitchenware he’ll want when we move in together, and consulting Wirecutter, I text a friend who works at Wayfair for their employee discount. I buy a Tramontina saucepan and pot, as well as a set of wooden spoons. $110.24

4 p.m. — I do my grocery shopping for the week and pick up some Health-Ade kombucha and a six-pack of Cloud Candy IPA by Mighty Squirrel Brewing Co. $160.72

8 p.m. — I have leftover butternut squash soup. I always feel like I need a bit of a healthy food cleanse after I travel. H. comes over to hang out and we have a cozy night watching The Madness.

9:15 a.m. — I wake up naturally right before my alarm — love it when that happens. Breakfast in the form of two bananas with peanut butter drizzle. My best friend calls me, and we gossip until I have to go to yoga.

10:30 a.m. — I do an hour-long C2 class at the CorePower studio down the street. The studio is typically heated but, thankfully, it is cooler than usual today. It feels good to start the day with a big, long stretch to get out the soreness from the run yesterday. I browse the studio rack and am sorely tempted to buy a lululemon top that is 40% off, but I refrain. I have bought a lot of athleisure this year and want to cut back. Another cost-saving measure I am taking is not continuing my CorePower membership — I have a lot of recurring subscriptions and am taking a step back on this one. Afterward, I make a tempeh bacon and egg sandwich and prep some patients for tomorrow from my favorite working spot — the couch. I put on a nature documentary in the background.

4:30 p.m. — H. and I head to a pickleball court with some friends. We have a few friendly rounds of pickleball, and I end up being on the losing team of every configuration. Racket sports have never been my strong suit. We head to a brewery after and I have a non-alcoholic Athletic beer, which H. pays for. $56.25

9 p.m. — I make some black bean and sweet potato tacos, and we watch an episode of Dune: Prophecy. It’s a television show set in the same universe as the Dune movies, and it doesn’t quite live up to the standards set by the films, but it’s intriguing. Between the driving and post-pickleball shower, it ends up being a late night and I fall asleep at 11 p.m.

6:30 a.m. — Ugh. It takes me a few snoozes to get out of bed and coffee doesn’t make too much of a dent in my fatigue. I shuffle the block to the gym in 30-degree weather, peel off the layers, and hop on a treadmill to do a brutal interval workout.

9 a.m. — Back to work after an extended weekend. My manager tells me that I am going to be put up for promotion in the spring cycle, but I try not to get my hopes up; I was put up for promotion for the autumn cycle, but all promotions were denied because of some restructuring. I know these things take time, but I am impatient — in the past year, I have absorbed a director’s responsibilities, but I still have the same job title that I had when I left graduate school.

4:30 p.m. — I walk through the rain to CVS to pick up some Aleve and Icy Hot patches for H., whose back is bothering him, as well as some more kombucha for myself. I finish up the workday from his apartment and end up closing my laptop around 7 p.m, much later than usual. $22.90

8 p.m. — While cleaning my apartment and cooking dinner — spaghetti squash with arrabbiata sauce — I realize that I am 20 minutes late for my family’s weekly FaceTime. I jump on the call with apologies, only to find that they have spent the last 20 minutes discussing professional soccer, a subject I have zero interest in, but that my family adores. We decide to buy my brother a backpacking pack for Christmas, settling on the Atmos AG 65 Pack ($340 in total, $90 for my share). $90

7 a.m. — Instead of my alarm clock, I wake up to a loud and clear fire alarm. My cat runs away from me as I try to corral her into her carrier, and I make the snap-second decision to leave her. This is probably the seventh fire alarm we have had in the past year, and it is always due to one of the oversensitive alarms in the garden-level apartments, so make the decision not to drag her out into the cold. When the alarm gets turned off, I’m relieved and guilty.

12 p.m. — It’s a busy day. In between patient calls and research meetings, I scarf down an egg and tempeh bacon sandwich. I do a favor for one of my colleagues, and she tells me that I can never leave, which is very sweet, but I feel a pinch of guilt. I have been interviewing at a few jobs, nothing promising, but I am feeling the itch to leave.

5 p.m. — I got back to CVS for the second time in 24 hours. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t remember to pick up some other things yesterday, but that’s how it goes. I buy eye drops, tissues, and face moisturizer and then make dinner with tofu and curried cauliflower. $48.88

8 p.m. — One of my old colleagues has asked me to write them a letter of recommendation for a social work graduate training program. The catch is, it’s due within 48 hours. They were a great colleague, so it is easy to think of things that they did well, and I use generative AI to smooth it over, and submit. I feel guilty about using generative AI to write because I don’t want to become dependent on it, but it sure is useful. Another late day on the computer. Afterward, I reward myself with some pistachio gelato and crack open chapter 9 of the book, Your Money Or Your Life.

6:30 a.m. — My alarm interrupts a perfectly lovely dream of H. and us at his old apartment. It is raining heavily outside, but a run is on my training plan. I make it 3.8 miles of my planned 7 miles before calling it and jumping into a warm shower.

2 p.m. — I talk with one of the clinical operations managers about how to streamline my workflow. I am the first physician associate on this team, which has been great because I have gotten to define my role, but also means that I feel like I have to prove my value and advocate for working at the top of my scope.

4:30 p.m. — One of the VPs has requested that I provide her with regular data pulls that take me hours to complete. I speak with her direct report on a more manageable, and alternative deliverable. It is the first time I have said no to something for a while, and it feels weird, but they are supportive.

8:30 p.m. — H. and I head downtown for a triple date at one of my favorite restaurants, an upscale Cuban cocktail bar ($13.84 for the Uber). We meet up with my friend from graduate school, her husband, my friend from high school, and her boyfriend. We’ve all become good friends and the last time we saw each other was a month and a half ago in Europe for my first friend’s wedding. We debrief the wilder parts of the wedding and split a delicious dinner that includes a blackened shrimp pizza and two rounds of drinks ($149.37 for our portion). $163.21