Why I hate driving a Mercedes

I grew up surrounded by money, but I had no idea.

I could rarely see it. While I had a lot of friends at my private school who were surrounded by many more symbols of wealth (huge houses, nice cars, etc.), my upbringing felt modest by comparison.

I now know that I was financially privileged growing up, but I never learned to identify with it.

My parents rarely invested in symbols of wealth. Instead, my parents valued living modestly, working hard, quality time over expensive gifts, and practical solutions over flashy ones. And the way my dad spent his money was a reflection of those values, many of which I share.

That is why I have always hated driving the Mercedes Benz he gave me when I graduated high school. I am so grateful for the gift and have always appreciated the car. I take great care of it, so the advantage may last as long as possible. But I have always had this insecurity that the car, or rather the symbol on the front of the car, might give others the wrong idea about me.

“You can buy us all drinks because you drive a Mercedes.”

I believe that others might interpret the Mercedes logo on my car as a sign that I am a privileged white boy, which I am — but even though that’s my background, I have never wanted to flaunt that privilege to the world. I am afraid that others might perceive me as spoiled and undeserving. I am afraid that they might see my privilege and think less of me. I think, more specifically, the symbol of wealth/privilege bothers me so much because I am afraid it could prejudice others against me in a way that is beyond my control.

That is not how everyone interprets the Mercedes logo, and that is not even how I regard other people who enjoy luxury items. I just know that some people might think those things about me because I have experienced that prejudice before.

One time at a bar, an acquaintance of mine exclaimed, “You can buy us all drinks because you drive a Mercedes.” Although this was a minor assumption, it confirmed my fear that others might develop a preconception of me based on the type of car I happened to drive.

I strive to meet all others as equals. I greet all people first as a friend or a potential collaborator, always approaching with trust and benevolence — and I hope that that is how others feel they can approach me.

I resent the fact that the logo on the front of my car might prejudice others against me and be a barrier to some sort of camaraderie.

What I am trying to point out is that these material symbols have power in our society. Our capitalist society works extremely hard to create narratives around symbols (brands) and market them to certain types of people. Our culture, especially our consumer culture, motivates people to create or affirm their identity by purchasing (or aligning) with certain brands and their constructed identities.

This phenomenon isn’t obvious for every item in our consumption economy, but for the car industry, this differentiation is essential, especially for luxury brands. It is essential because, at the end of the day, they are all just selling a machine with four wheels that can get people from point A to point B. In order to justify a higher price point for what is essentially the same tool, luxury brands must create a narrative around their product by investing more money in design, branding, and marketing. Through these efforts, they are trying to define and create their customer (you) as much as they are creating a product.

The allure of these symbols can exert influence on us only so far as we buy in to those narratives.

By inspecting my insecurity about my car, I have realized that I had bought in to the narrative that a Mercedes is anything more than a car, despite my best efforts not to. I had always believed that the best way to relieve my insecurity about my car was to buy a different car that could represent me more accurately to others — but that reasoning is still buying in to the idea that a material item can portray who I am and what I believe.

I cannot control other people’s perception of me by my possessions, and I cannot rely on my possessions to speak for me.

I can only demonstrate my character to others through my actions — by meeting all others as equals, greeting all people as a friend, and moving throughout the world with trust and benevolence.

My car can never detract from who I am, nor enhance me.

This is a personal finance article of Zeneration Wealth — a platform for inspiring Gen Z to discover how money can be used in service of their values, not in place of them.

Read our blog and find us on social media.