Why the Rich Need Counseling

Now that the scrim has been pulled back to reveal the sordid reality of Britain’s royal fairy tale, it seems the time is ripe to talk about the problems of the rich. Certainly, we are reminded from the tribulations of the lovelorn Windsor women that money can buy neither love nor happiness.

Myra Salzer, a 40-year-old Boulder, Colo., financial consultant, contends it cannot even buy a sense of well-being. Especially if it has been handed to you on a silver platter, as it were.

Four years ago, Salzer started an annual workshop for the rich. Not just any rich. Her workshops are for people who have scored the big win in the biological lottery, people who have inherited so much money they never have to work.

What kind of fortune would you need to qualify? It depends. Salzer has one client with a monthly income of $25,000 but zero net worth, because the money comes from a trust he does not control. (And presumably, he spends it all.)

Salzer charges the wealth-impaired (she calls them “wealth-adjusted”) $850 for three days in Aspen, which includes food, but not lodging, because so many who attend have their own homes in the area.

She determines which issues to address after participants return a confidential questionnaire. They are asked to rate on a scale of 1 to 5 (least to most) how much their wealth affects them in areas such as the ability to maintain a serious relationship, feeling used by others, finding professionals such as attorneys and accountants they can trust and whether their wealth isolates them.

Now, you might think not having to work for a living would be a beautiful thing. But according to Salzer, many an ego has been irreparably scarred by it.

“The low self-esteem is pervasive, especially among the men, in a society where you are judged by your earned income,” says Salzer. “Their biggest fear is going to a party and being asked, ‘What do you do?’ because, ‘I manage my portfolio’ does not ring true. These people are denied the opportunity to have a purpose in life.”

One man who attended the workshop became a notary just so he could have an answer for people who asked what he did for a living. “The workshop,” says Salzer, “gave him permission to be who he is.”

After she’d been consulting the wealthy-by-death-and-dissolution awhile, Salzer began to discern their special problems.

“In some ways,” she says, “they were relying on me to fulfill a role that was outside the boundaries of financial planning and investment management. For example, I had one couple where the woman had married into the wealth, and she used me as a friend to show her $100,000 emerald and her new BMW. She could not show her parents these things because they could not make their mortgage payments.”

Also, she says, a person who can afford to walk away from any difficult situation never learns the valuable art of conflict resolution. Problem with a boss? Quit. Problem with a landlord? Buy a house.

“But that ability to walk away carries over into all aspects of their lives,” says Salzer. Problem with a spouse? Leave.

Heirs also have a tremendous fear of losing their money. After all, an entrepreneur knows he or she can do it again. But as the inheritor knows, “Mother is not going to die again.”

I point out to Salzer that this is a group that, while perhaps troubled by its good fortune, is surely not going to elicit a whole lot of sympathy.

“That is exactly why many of these people are in the closet,” she replies. “They cannot come forward and get sympathy. I am just suggesting that we recognize that their issues are real.”

It’s just so darn hard to empathize. And don’t think the rich don’t know that, either.

“Guilt and embarrassment go hand in hand in these workshops,” says Salzer. “They have guilt that they don’t have to choose between giving horseback lessons to their kids or saving for retirement or going on vacation.”

Robin, a middle-aged Texas woman who attended the first workshop in 1989, said her first marriage broke up over her sudden inheritance at age 22 of great tracts of land. Bankers began wanting her to co-sign documents and put up collateral for her rancher husband’s transactions. He felt emasculated and began drinking heavily.

During her second marriage, oil was discovered on her land, and her monthly income shot up to $50,000. At the end of the year, her orthodontist husband discovered his entire year’s earnings barely covered her income tax. His ego got a little shaky, too, but they have managed to work things out.

Being in a roomful of people with whom she did not have to downplay her wealth was liberating, says Robin. They could talk openly about prenuptial agreements, philanthropy, the help.

“I remember one woman saying, ‘You know, I can’t complain to my friends about what my maid did. They can’t believe that would be a problem!’ ”

Neither can I, I guess. I’d like to. But it’s a stretch.