When Six Figures Stopped Being Impressive
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what numbers mean to us. Not in a mathematical sense, but in that psychological way where certain figures become cultural markers. You know, like how $1 million used to be the definition of wealth, or how $100,000 was once the salary that meant you’d “made it.”
That second one particularly interests me because I’ve been watching it lose its lustre in real-time. Someone online recently pointed out that the median full-time salary in Australia is now sitting just over $104,500. Let that sink in for a moment. The median – meaning half of all full-time workers earn more than this. A hundred grand isn’t aspirational anymore; it’s literally average.
The numbers tell a stark story. Back in 2000, the median full-time salary was around $25,700. In 2010, it was roughly $39,900. By 2020, it had jumped to $89,100. Now it’s cracked six figures. But here’s the thing that really gets under my skin: while those numbers have been climbing, the actual purchasing power, the real ability to live comfortably, hasn’t kept pace at all.
I read a comment from someone who graduated ten years ago and noted they could have bought their childhood home on their grad salary of $70K with careful budgeting. That same house has now tripled in price. Meanwhile, grad salaries in many fields have barely budged. Another person mentioned they graduated nearly 20 years ago on a salary that’s almost identical to what new grads are earning today. Twenty years of inflation, and wages in some sectors have essentially flatlined.
The maths is depressing when you work it out. Someone earning $150,000 who gets a 3% pay rise to match inflation actually only sees a 2.5% increase in their take-home pay because of how our tax brackets work. Without indexation of those brackets, you’re effectively going backwards even when you think you’re keeping pace.
I’ve been in IT for long enough to have seen this shift firsthand. There was a time when breaking into six figures meant you were doing quite well for yourself. It meant you could afford a decent lifestyle, maybe start thinking seriously about property, take a proper holiday without the budgeting anxiety. Now? I know people pulling in $100K who are living more frugally than they did when they were students. One person mentioned earning $100K while their partner earns $70K, and still feeling they need to budget more carefully than when they were at art school. That’s not hyperbole – that’s the reality for many dual-income households.
The really insidious part is how this creeps up on you. I remember when my daughter was younger, inflation was this abstract thing I’d try to explain – how prices slowly increased over time, how wages adjusted, all very gradual and manageable. Now she’s a teenager, and she’s watched our grocery bills jump 30% in just a couple of years. She’s seeing it with her own eyes, not as some economic theory but as a lived reality that’s directly impacting our household decisions.
What frustrates me most is how this intersects with the housing crisis. We’ve reached a point where many young people are making entirely rational decisions not to have children because they can’t guarantee housing security. Someone online put it bluntly: “I can’t have kids because I can’t guarantee a roof over their heads.” That’s not melodramatic – that’s pragmatic planning based on economic reality. The so-called Australian dream isn’t just fading; for many, it’s completely out of reach.
And here’s where my left-leaning sensibilities really come into play: this isn’t happening in a vacuum. Our tax system still favours capital gains over wage income. Investors get better treatment than workers. The people who already own property, who already have assets, continue to benefit while those relying on wages – you know, actually working for a living – get squeezed harder each year.
The government keeps tinkering around the edges with “cost of living relief” measures that often just add fuel to the inflationary fire. The RBA seems reluctant to do what’s necessary because they’re worried about the political fallout. Meanwhile, the supermarket duopoly quietly raises prices and blames “supply chain issues” while posting record profits. It’s a system that’s working exactly as designed – just not for the majority of us.
Look, I’m not trying to be all doom and gloom here. I’m fortunate enough to be reasonably secure in my career, and recent opportunities to level up at work have helped cushion the blow. But I can’t help feeling that we’re at an inflection point. The markers we’ve used for decades to measure economic success and security are becoming increasingly meaningless.
A hundred thousand dollars used to represent something. Now it’s just… a number. An average number. And if average no longer provides comfort or security, what exactly are we working towards?
The thing is, I don’t think we’ve seen the end of this yet. The inflationary pressures are still there, lurking. The structural issues in our economy haven’t been addressed. We’re just kind of… muddling through, hoping something gives before too many more people get crushed by the squeeze.
Maybe the first step is acknowledging that the old metrics don’t work anymore. Stop fetishising six-figure salaries as some kind of achievement when they barely cover the basics. Start talking seriously about tax reform that benefits workers over investors. Actually address housing supply and affordability instead of implementing policies that just pump the market further.
Because right now, we’re telling an entire generation that if they just work hard enough, they’ll be fine. But they’re looking at the numbers, doing the maths, and realising it’s not adding up. And honestly? They’re absolutely right to be skeptical.
The system needs fixing, not motivational speeches about bootstraps and hustle culture. And until we’re willing to have those uncomfortable conversations about structural inequality and who our economy actually serves, I suspect we’ll just keep watching these numbers climb while the actual quality of life for working people continues its slow, steady decline.