How much we earn is still a taboo subject, says Oliver Burkeman. From milkman to pilot, MP to cleaner, we ask people to break the silence

Here is what happens when you call people up and ask them to tell you how much they earn. They stammer. They try to change the subject. Celebrities mention that they once previously made their salaries public and got nothing but grief, so there's no way they're doing it again; non-celebrities politely explain that it's something they prefer not to talk about, if it's all the same, thanks very much. The phrase "the last taboo" is a criminally overused media cliché that is always incorrectly employed, but perhaps it's almost forgivable when it comes to the topic of discussing our pay cheques. Sex and death haven't really been taboo for decades – there are people who won't stop talking about either – but I've never been at a party or at drinks in a pub where salaries were openly compared.

This isn't hard to explain. Clearly, we fear being judged about our salaries – either undeserving or boastful about large ones, or morally inferior for earning less, and friendships thrive on equality, or at least the illusion of it. Yet this whole moral dimension to wages collapses under the tiniest bit of rational scrutiny. It hasn't ever been the case that jobs pay better the more unpleasant they are (toilet cleaner), the more socially crucial they are (NHS nurse, state-school teacher) or the more sheer physical exertion they require (construction worker). Perhaps our reticence to talk about money stems from the awareness that this is unjust – but it's such a ubiquitous injustice, it seems strange that we take it so personally. Money pretty much never reflects moral worth. So why all the queasiness, even among friends?

Remuneration rarely reflects the amount of effort someone has invested in their career – and even if it did, some philosophers argue, that would be no basis for moralising anyway. If it's a matter of luck whether you're born with an inheritance of £300m or into poverty, perhaps it's just as much a matter of luck if you're fortunate enough to be born, or raised, with the capacity to apply yourself effortfully to your job, and thus rise through the ranks. Maybe – as Clint Eastwood observed, albeit in a different context – deserve ain't got nothing to do with it. Or as the Stanford University philosophy professor John Perry once put it to a reporter: "If it makes no sense to deserve anything, there's no reason to feel bad about it! You've destroyed the concept of deserving altogether. You might as well say I don't quadzircle this salary. It's meaningless."

If we were being cold and clear-eyed about this, we might also make mention of the Easterlin Paradox, named after the economist Richard Easterlin. This refers to the fact that while, in any given country, richer people tend to report more happiness than poorer ones, very rich countries don't have happier populations, on average, than only modestly well-off ones. This paradox, it's true, has been questioned in recent years: it seems to depend on whether you measure people's moment-to-moment mood, or ask them if they're satisfied with life in general. But the generally accepted conclusion is that above a certain level, more money doesn't bring more moment-to-moment joy. The most specific version of this puts the threshold figure, in the US, at $75,000, or about £47,000 at current exchange rates. Since the average UK salary is about £26,000, this certainly shouldn't be interpreted to mean that more money wouldn't make millions of British people happier. But it does suggest that high salaries shouldn't be a cause of envy, or of bragging.

The spanner in the works here, of course, is that the connection between happiness and money is to a large degree relative. We generally don't want to earn more, per se, so much as we want to earn more than other people. Studies in behavioural economics demonstrate that people often prefer a bigger relative income over a bigger absolute one; they're happiest earning more than others, even if that means earning less than they otherwise might. And if happiness is comparison-based, it matters greatly whom you choose to compare yourself with, which also may explain those less-than-ecstatic hedge fund managers. We adapt to whatever pleasures our incomes reliably guarantee, and hanker after more: once you're in the habit of holidaying thrice yearly on idyllic Caribbean islands, you begin to resent those who own their own islands.

It would follow, then, that we'd be afraid of learning that a friend earns much more than us – or feel bad for making our friends feel bad by revealing that we earn more. Which hints at what I suspect is the deepest truth about the salary taboo: it's not that any one of us attaches vast moral importance to earnings. Rather, it's that we fear that our friends do, or that they think that we think that they think that we think…

The salary taboo does seem to be much less of a problem in stereotypically forthright America than in stereotypically restrained Britain: according to a couple of recent surveys, only 17% of Americans are uncomfortable talking about their earnings, whereas 63% of Brits are. But even that American figure is much higher than it was a few years ago, suggesting that widespread unemployment, resulting from the state of the economy, may provoke "survivor guilt" among those still comfortably off. Both the UK and US, however, are notable for their acute socioeconomic inequality: it would be intriguing to learn whether the earnings taboo is less pronounced in more equal societies.

Ever since Captain Cook first discovered taboos among the people of Polynesia, theorists have speculated about the social functions that might be served by making certain topics forbidden for discussion, or even for thought. From this perspective, our tight-lippedness about money looks highly convenient for our employers, and more generally for those with the greatest economic power: by refusing to disclose our wages, we make it easier to perpetuate anomalies between those doing similar jobs, and easier to avoid addressing the overarching anomaly – if that's what it is – that the most important jobs aren't the best rewarded. Consider the participants in this survey of salaries, then, to be courageous pioneers, doing their bit for human empowerment. Yes, even Rod Liddle.

And my income? Higher than the average. Quite a bit lower than it should be. Thanks for asking, but I don't really feel comfortable discussing it.

Mechanic

Brett Shepherd, 21, £23,400



Some people think mechanics are just monkeys doing easy work, but at college I did chemistry, physics, maths and accounts. And it's hard work. I do 10 till six, five days a week, and a half day every other Saturday. On average I do five separate jobs a day, ranging from diagnostic checks to gearboxes, clutches, wheel bearings, engine rebuilds.

My grandad started this business more than 40 years ago, and if I carry on, eventually it'll be mine. My nan, my mum and my aunt work in the office. My dad and my two uncles work in the workshop; we've always been a close family.

There's not loads of money in car repairs. But for someone my age, and for the amount of work I do, it is good money. I have roughly £300-£400 a month spare. If I was earning more money, I'd probably just spend it – I'm useless at saving. I'd drink champagne and have a really nice car. I've worked on a few Porsches, a lot of Mercedes and BMWs. My number one car of all time is a McLaren F1. They cost about £1.2m. I'd have to get very lucky on the lottery.

Airline pilot

Martin Alder, 59, £120,000



Pilot Martin Alder: 'My first job was in 1978 and paid £5,000.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

I used to work for British Airways, but there's a compulsory retirement age of 55, so now I'm self-employed. I work part-time for smaller airlines and I have my pension. On a full-time equivalent, my salary would be £120,000. At BA, I earned £130,000.

My first job was in 1978 and paid £5,000. These days, pilots start on about £40,000, which sounds good until you realise it can cost up to £100,000 to train.

I'm a captain. We get paid more because we're responsible for the whole operation. You sign the documents, so if anything goes wrong, the buck stops with you. You're running a small team, liaising with air traffic control, helping cabin crew – flying the plane is almost a sideline.

It is a stressful job. You're away from home a lot and work long days. I think we earn our salaries. But it is an enjoyable job. It's very here-and-now. There's not much of an in-tray.

Alternative therapist

Jo Barnard, 35, £5,000



Alternative therapist Jo Barnard: 'Every now and again I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, but the answer is always yes.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

Crikey. If I looked at the number of hours I work, the amount I get paid an hour would be below minimum wage. I used to have a high-paid salary in marketing, and I earned around £35,000. Every now and again I wonder if I'm doing the right thing, but the answer is always yes. I've chosen a low-paid career because it's something I'm passionate about. I practise various therapies – reiki, Indian head massage, holistic facials, aromatherapy. I run occasional retreats. I've self-published a book on meditation. Going back to what I was doing would mean selling my soul again. Working for myself fits around my family life – I've got two young boys, and I'm fortunate my husband can pay the bills. Things are tighter, but every penny I earn I think, "Thank you, I'm really grateful for that."

Banker

Clare Smith*, 37, £170,000 plus £400,000 discretionary bonus



Yes, you read right. I get a £400,000 annual bonus. That's why most bankers won't talk about what they get paid. That and the fact that they could lose their job for doing so.

Am I worth it? Relative to what? To what my colleagues earn? To a nurse? Compared with a nurse, I'm well paid, but that's because society doesn't value nurses properly.

It's very competitive, the hours are long – I'm in the office at 6.15am and leave about 6pm. It's a very meritocratic job. If you don't perform, you don't get paid – or they sack you.

Few people can say money isn't a factor when they decide to go into the City. I did maths at university and have worked in this field for 14 years. The pay goes up with experience, but there isn't much job security.

I spend most of my time on the phone selling investment ideas through pension funds, mutual trusts, hedge funds. To do that you need technical, selling, accounting and management skills. You have to do regulatory exams when you start. There are people you can ask for advice, but that's tolerated only so often. So it comes down to individual decision-making and performance. It's pretty difficult to cruise.

There aren't many people in the City over 45. There's only so long you can work 12-hour days, five days a week. I really enjoy what I do. I get to meet all sorts of people and use my brain, but the fact that few women return after having children tells you that it's not a lifestyle job.

What it gives me is a lot of freedom. I can do pretty much what I want. When I have children, I can choose whether to continue working. Some people get into the lifestyle trap. If you've got five kids and they're at public school that's a lot of pressure, but I could walk away pretty easily.

Landscape gardener

Andy Westacott, 35, £28,000



Landscape gardener Andy Westacott: 'I invested in a decent smartphone this year and dropped it into a client's duck pond.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

I play football with other landscapers and we've had the odd chat about wages. People are fairly coy. I did 10 years in the City, in advertising. At my peak, I was on £38,000, but wasn't enjoying the career. I love designing and building gardens.

My business is five years old. In the first year I earned £18,000. That has risen, but it'll plateau. I invested in a decent smartphone this year and dropped it into a client's duck pond.

Pharmacist

Nick Haddington, 29, £40,157



Pharmacist Nick Haddington: 'I'm thinking of going down the NHS management route.' Photograph: Joel Redman for the Guardian

I considered studying marine biology, but the sensible part of my head said: "Marine biology is incredibly interesting. For that reason, it's also very popular, and the jobs within it are more scarce than within pharmacy." I had the perception that pharmacists were paid well, and financially I'm very comfortable. But I think I'm worth my money.

I'm a teacher-practitioner, so my week is split into three days in hospital, two days teaching at university. I work 37.5 hours a week, but I get in early, leave a bit late, tend not to have a lunch break. I'm thinking of going down the NHS management route, which could mean becoming a chief pharmacist. So I'd be looking at between £60,000 and £80,000.

At the moment, I'm working on a trauma and orthopaedics ward, which tends to be old people who've broken their hips or younger people who've crashed things. As a medicines expert, I have a lot of responsibility. But I'd feel guilty asking for more money.

Police constable

Kevin Smart*, 27, £28,000



Nobody likes us. A fireman's everyone's friend, a policeman's your enemy. We piss people off and they see us as part of an organisation where you get a good wage.

The public think we buy doughnuts, drink coffee, nick people. They have no idea what we deal with. I've been injured three times at work, and have had to go on restricted duty. A couple of times I've thought my life was at risk. They say we're not under pressure to make a certain number of arrests, but we're judged on monthly performance indicators. People don't understand the pressures we face. You do think it's just not worth it for the amount you are earning. A lot of officers say we don't get paid enough for what we do, but with today's climate, I think everyone's just grateful to have a job.

Journalist

Rod Liddle, 50, £180,000-£200,000



It is written into my contract that I should earn at least twice as much as Polly Toynbee and seven times as much as a state registered nurse, to reflect my much greater contribution to the wellbeing of society. About £180,000-£200,000, all in. Plus the occasional backhander from arms dealers and drug companies.

MP

Gregory Campbell, MP for East Londonderry, 57, £65,738



All MPs are paid the same. We get an office allowance of around £130,000, and a mileage allowance for parliamentary and constituency duties. I work around 75-80 hours a week.

I can't say whether the current salary is fair, but it is fair that MPs don't decide. If MPs don't like the salary, they can get another job.

Cleaner

Jasmine Smythe*, 40, £5,000



I get £7 an hour, which is unusual for a cleaner – it's usually minimum wage. I do around 20 hours a week, and I mostly get two hours to clean a family house and do the ironing. You have to be quick, but that's all the time people want to pay for.

It's a pretty joyless job – repetitive, physically hard and dirty. Yet cleaners are undervalued. No holiday pay or sick pay. You have to get to clients' homes at your own expense. I can't afford to run a car, or have a holiday.

Some clients feel guilty paying someone to do a job they don't want to do, especially women. They don't want to go out to work and clean the house, and that's right, but I'm amazed they can't get the family to do a bit of cleaning once a week. Even if I had a six-figure salary, I'd never hire someone to clean up after me.

Speech therapist

Wendy Kibblewhite, 58, £40,050



Speech therapist Wendy Kibblewhite: '­Because I'm independent, I'm not on a fixed income.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

Mine looks like a whacking income, but when you take off the overheads – around £11,000 – it's not that good. It's comfortable, but I work hard for it. Speech therapists deal with complex language issues, children with autism, language impairments. Because I'm independent, I'm not on a fixed income, so if I want a nice holiday I can work harder and get it.

Pub landlady

Michelle Berk, 34, £25,000



Pub landlady Michelle Berk: 'Before this I worked in banking and my husband was a musician. We never saw one another.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

My husband and I took over the pub two years ago, and we both take the same wage. The beer delivery is between 5am and 7am on Monday, and the pub stays open until between 11.30pm and 1.30am, depending on the day. I work seven days a week and it's usually about 2am that I go to bed. And you're so wired it can take a good hour before you sleep.

Before this I worked in banking and my husband was a musician. I was earning £40k. We never saw one another, so we decided to quit and throw in our lot together. People can't afford to go out and drink as much as they used to, and I was concerned when we took over. But there have been other recessions and we've come out of them. I won't make a fortune out of this, but I don't think I'll ever be bored. As long as I have enough to live on and give people a good time, I'll be happy with that.

Canon

David Parrott, 52, £22,000, plus use of the vicarage



Canon David Parrott: 'I knew it wouldn’t be a job in which I would earn vast sums, but that wasn't why I wanted to do it. I believe God called me to do it.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

Being a clergyman in the Church of England is more of a lifestyle than it is employment. When I was ordained, 27 years ago, I wasn't particularly aware of what the figures would be. I knew it wouldn't be a job in which I would earn vast sums, but that wasn't why I wanted to do it. I believe God called me to do it.

I work 50 to 60 hours a week. I open the church at 7.30am, so anybody who wants to call in and pray on their way to work can do so. I don't have a a lot of spare time, but I love walking, playing computer games, and spending time with my wife and family.

I've certainly got friends who are better off than me, and others who are less well-off. Part of the issue about how you live on your income is to do with being able to believe God is providing. I have no doubt that God and the Church of England will continue to provide for me.

Cartographer

Kate Reynolds*, 60, £20,000, plus 1% of sales



Mapping is not a career you go into for money; it's for love. When I was a manager of a company, my salary was more than three times what I'm getting now – I paid more in tax than I earn. But I was managing rather than mapping. One day I thought, "This is killing me, I'm getting out." I would like to be paid more, but I have peace of mind, I work from home so I don't have to commute, and I'm able to design maps.

I'm currently doing a map highlighting the world's environmental problems, including toxic accidents such as Deepwater Horizon. I'm coming towards the end of my career, which began in the 70s – my two children have left home, I don't have a mortgage, and I can make do with what I've got. But I feel for the youngsters coming into the trade. Ten years ago, the thought of earning £20,000 a year would have terrified me.

Reality TV director

John Compton*, 34, £1,500 a week by contract: £67,000 a year



The most I work is 45 weeks a year. We're all freelance and it's done on short-term contracts. Holiday is unpredictable and unpaid. Likewise, sick days. There's no pension, or employee benefits: you're self-employed effectively.

When we're filming, we work a seven-day week, three to four weeks on the trot, with no time off. So, generally, you're working more than a five-day week for that weekly rate. You can work 15- or 16-hour days for however long it takes to film.

Am I worth the money? Probably. Because for what it costs to make my sort of programme, the TV companies get a great deal in terms of viewing figures. Much as reality TV is a maligned part of TV programming, it rates really well. Sherlock may pull in eight million, but it costs four or five times as much to make.

Criminal barrister

Jonathan Chibafa, 29, up to £60,000



Barrister Jonathan Chibafa: 'There's a lot of work on short notice; so if you had plans for dinner or the theatre, scrap that, go home and ­prepare the case.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

I am interested in money to have a nice life, but I'm not interested in being wealthy. Which is lucky, because most criminal barristers don't get paid as much as people think we do. I moved to this country 11 years ago from Zimbabwe to study law at university and have been qualified for four years. My salary varies from year to year depending on the cases I get. The pay structure is premised on the seriousness of the offence, the complexity of issues and how long the case lasts, but the "cab rank" rule means you can't pick and choose. As long as you are qualified and available, you have to take a case – even if something much juicier comes up two days later.

The top commercial lawyers have high-powered clients and charge top fees – they're the ones who earn hundreds of thousands a year. Last year I made around £45,000, but that includes VAT, and 20% of it goes to chambers rent, then income tax on top. We're all self-employed. If you don't bring in money to your chamber, that's a problem. You have to build a reputation – which means learning how to market yourself. There's a lot of work on short notice; so if you had plans for dinner or the theatre, scrap that, go home and prepare the case. That happens all the time, but to be honest I wouldn't change my job for anything.

Private dentist

David James, 41, £57, 500



The best I have done would have been about £105-110k a year, but this year has not been good financially. In the first 10 months I drew £57,597: £17,455 went in loan repayments on the practice. This leaves £40,142, of which £5k goes into a pension. I drive an 03 Passat and owe £280k on my house and £200k on the practice.

My job is very demanding, I have to be focused and have very high standards. I am in the process of selling the practice. Next time I will be more considered in the financial aspect of what I do. I consider £10k a month, after practice loan repayments but before tax, a reasonable goal.

I'm aware I earn more than others. I don't think I'm overpaid, but would agree that some of them are underpaid. I'd rather go travelling on credit than work every day for £15k a year.

Milkman

Kevin Read, 46, £15,000



Milkman Kevin Read: 'My dad was a milk­man, but like all parents he wanted me to better myself. But at 14 I discovered punk rock, and the rest is history.' Photograph: Mark Chilvers for the Guardian

I'm in the yard at 3am and finish about 10-11am, unless I'm collecting payments and it's more like 2pm. My wife works in the afternoons, so that's when I'm at home looking after the children, putting on my pinny and making dinner. I go to bed about 9pm. It's hectic, but I enjoy it.

At 13, I was a rounds boy. At 16, I left school and started as junior yard boy. I worked seven days, took home £55 a week. My dad was a milkman, but like all parents he wanted me to better myself. Get qualified. But at 14 I discovered punk rock, and the rest is history. People say I could have been a good teacher.

I'm self-employed, an agent contracted by the dairy to do the round. We just get commission on how many pints we sell. We all think we're worth more, but at least that's fair. Someone who wants an easy round earns £200 per week, but you can work harder and get £500. You get paid what you're worth. It's not like sitting in an office wondering what the person next to you is getting.

I've got four children and a grand-daughter. Of course I don't want them to do this. I want them to get a proper job.

Head of PR for Oxfam

Katie Abbotts, 36, £40,000



We have salary bands, based on responsibility and job profile – they go from A to E, and I'm a B. Whenever a job is advertised, it always says which band it is, which means the organisation is quite open. I used to work in corporate PR and you'd get called into a room at Christmas, given an envelope with your bonus, and told not to tell anyone else. Now, I don't make assumptions about what my colleagues earn, and I know they're not getting big bonuses or pay rises.

I work 26 hours a week, so I don't get the full £40,000. You don't work at Oxfam for the money – you do it because you believe in the cause, and it's an exciting place to work. As long as I can pay my mortgage and bills, it doesn't matter whether my jeans cost £20 or £90.

GP

Helen Andrews*, 30, £51,000



I work three days a week and I do between 10 and 11 hours a day. What's good is that you can fit your hours around your life. I don't work nights or weekends. I can go to all the parties and weddings I like. I think there is resentment from hospital doctors, who think we get paid a lot of money for the hours we do. But I think general practice is more demanding.

I've never had a lunch break – I either have meetings or I sit at my desk with a sandwich. It's nonstop. People think GPs work only when we're seeing patients, and that in the middle of the day we go off and play golf or something, but there is a mountain of paperwork and a huge number of phone calls, and we have to do home visits. And when you are seeing patients, you're making a decision every 10 minutes, or a series of decisions. You don't do a ward round, there aren't other people to share the responsibility. You're sitting in a room, bam, bam, bam. Given the responsibility, and the intensity of the workload, I don't think we're overpaid.

Small-business owner

Jenny Morris*, 33, £9,600-12,000



I run a food shop, which is a social enterprise. I earn £800 a month and work six days a week. It used to be £1,000, but I took it down to weather the financial storm. When I opened three years ago, I worked out my minimum survival budget. It's a real squeeze. I couldn't have a family in my current position. I hope by then I'll be earning a proper wage.

Waiter

Mick Hyde, 38, £9,000



I went through blood, sweat and tears working as a chef for 20 years. Now I get paid more for half the hours and half the stress. Although the wage isn't that good, I get about £7,000 a year in tips on top. I work a lot of nights, but I've worked unsocial hours since I was 16, when I earned £1.68 an hour at McDonald's.

As a kid, I wasn't ambitious. I never had any money when my mates did. It would be nice to have more holidays, but since the birth of my daughter seven years ago, all that stopped. I'm happy earning my wages and learning the ropes. In 10 years I'd like to be running a restaurant.

Psychotherapist

Bridget Finklaire, 48, £40,000



When you say you're a psychotherapist, people think you earn a tonne, but there's only so much people can afford to pay. To earn hundreds of thousands, you'd have to take on more clients, so lowering the quality of your work, or you'd have to run your own practice or charge through the roof, which would make it exclusive. I like working with what I call broken cases, where there's been a lot of trauma. If I just saw people who bit their nails and smoked all the time, I'd go stir crazy.

After the overheads, I earn around £25,000 a year, charging between £150 and £180 for a session during the day, £200 in the evening. When you compare my salary with that of a pop singer, footballer or banker, it's not that big. The work is hard, focused and emotionally draining. But when clients who have the most awful lives start laughing, that is the best reward.

Architect

John Stack, 31, £25,000



People think architects earn a lot more than we do; probably on a par with other professions, such as doctors and lawyers. We have a responsible job and a comparable length of training – eight years – but we don't get paid half as much.

I've just set up on my own, so this year I expect to turn over about £25,000 and take home £18,000. That's for three days, as we have a toddler and I want to combine working from home with looking after George. The practice I just left paid me £37,000 for a five-day week, but I hadn't had a pay rise since I was 27. They wanted me to do overtime, which was difficult with a child. Unpaid overtime is expected.

Before I went freelance, my partner and I were both professionals working full time, but we still couldn't afford to buy a house or car.

The problem with architecture is that it's hard to put a price on design. There will always be builders who will say they can do a house for half the price, and it might not look great but it will still keep the rain out.

* Names have been changed.

Interviews by Gary Cansell, Charlotte Northedge, Liese Spencer, Becky Barnicoat, Merope Mills.