thirty-three
July 7, 2025
The number e (or Euler’s number, for the 18th century mathematician) is defined by the formula:
$$ e = \lim_{n \to \infty} \left(1 + \frac{1}{n}\right)^n $$
It is an irrational number (meaning that it cannot be expressed as the ratio of two integers; its decimal expansion neither repeats nor terminates) that approximates to 2.71828. It is commonly used in calculating rates of growth and decay.
Such as the compound interest accrued on a superannuation fund.
In setting out to write myself a birthday letter for 34, I came across a gap.
There was a letter for 32. An exploration of the letter e.
But I hadn’t written one for 33. Hence the number e above.
I was deeply hurt at the time, grappling with an overwhelming feeling of betrayal and injustice. Rather than writing from a place of anguish, I chose to wait on the letter.
My birthday is celebratory, sacred, cherished.
I am glad for the delay. In the here and now, a year removed from these events, I am profoundly grateful for what transpired.
Injury is opportunity - though often in disguise.
In the wake of the cancer treatment, I struggled mightily with anxiety. The fear of a recurrence. That it was already back.
The future appeared bleak, overcast, stormy, turbulent, dark.
To a large extent, I avoided the thought of tomorrow. Focused instead on today, on the actions that I could take in the immediate here and now. Couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
If you had asked, then, I truthfully would have told you that I didn’t expect to live long enough to ever access my superannuation.
I was in Melbourne. Partly for a holiday for my birthday, partly to meet my partner’s family. We were in their family home, on the couch in the living room.
My partner was checking their superannuation fund, assessing whether it made sense to access the money to make a deposit on a first home. I checked mine too. Strangely, the balance looked identical to when I had started working for the company - over three years ago.
I checked the account history. There was one payment from two and a half years ago. Nothing since.
That was the first warning sign. It might have made sense if there were no deposits whatsoever. A mistake on the paperwork; or another account where the funds had accidentally been transferred instead.
One payment, and then nothing. Which meant that the company had our details. But hadn’t make the mandatory contributions as required by Australian law.
I checked with my fund’s support staff. They confirmed that there were no payments made beyond the first.
I sent a message to the big boss, hoping that there a simple misunderstanding.
The most galling part was that we all made the same mistake. I asked other staff members (current and past) if they’d been paid. Most had never checked their accounts. A couple weren’t even sure if they had one, or who it was with.
A note of gratitude for the ATO here. Rare to find anyone singing the praises of the tax collectors. In this case though, they were tremendously helpful. A simple webform to fill out. Confirmation of submission. An investigation, assessment, judgment.
A successful recovery, deposited into our account. Nearly $20,000.
I spoke to the big boss when I came back to the office. They also hadn’t been paid. Also hadn’t checked.
They organised a call for me with one of the company directors. They had moved overseas before I’d started working there. Never met them.
At least they were honest - to a point. They admitted to the fraud; that the company had stopped making superannuation contributions.
Then spun up a yarn about how times were tough through covid. That they’d taken out a personal loan in order to cover the missed payments. But they asked for patience, understanding - that it would take time for the payments to come through.
Which was a heap of steaming garbage. If they’d actually taken out a loan, they could pay the money immediately. Handle the repayments themselves. A desperate plea to avoid taking the matter any further.
It was easier to forgive the company than it was myself. It made sense, to a degree. The company existed to make money for the directors. The employees weren’t people to them, not really. Pure, unadulterated corporate greed. Modern capitalism.
Me though?
My own harshest critic (as ever).
Why hadn’t I checked? How could I be so naive? What could have been?
Now though?
I am so profoundly grateful for the fraud.
Without it, I might still be working for that company! Unaware of the deception, providing unpaid labour for another.
I was forced to make a change. To make the transition to operating my own business. Planning for my future. Believing in the idea of tomorrow, rather than the infinite today.
It exposed my shortcomings, my blindspots, my baggage. Especially around money, finance, wealth.
I’m still learning, growing, stumbling. Falling to stand to fall again - on repeat infinitely.
Now with an understanding of the purpose, the mission at large.
Forgiveness.
The way that it happened is the only way that it could have happened.
Happy Birthday!