Why I'm joining the post-Covid brain drain from New Zealand

Wednesday, 29 June 2022

Alie Benge and David Coffey say it's a choice between travel or racking up debt in Aotearoa.

Mikaela Wilkes is a lifestyle and entertainment reporter with Stuff.

OPINION: I spent the last week hauling bedroom furniture out of a flat and into storage at my parent’s house. I refuse to sell it, “in case” I return to Auckland in the next five years to settle.

But I doubt it.

I have a one-way flight to Sydney booked, a job to go to, and a flat arranged. The night I land, I’ll be meeting my new housemates at their local Surry Hills pub, and one of my best friends (who’s recently ditched his high-flying publicity gig to be a Qantas flight attendant).

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* 'Everyone is itching to go': Kiwis' lust for travel is hurting the economy

Figures from Stats NZ show a mass exodus is already under way as travel restrictions ease and economic conditions tighten. In the year to April 2022, net migration was negative, with 8700 more people leaving the country than entering. In the 12 months to April 2020, by contrast, there was a net gain of 89,927.

I’ve moved countries twice before as an exchange student (France, and the US), but with so much arranged from this side of the ditch, I expect this will be my easiest move.

I was horrified to learn that my new employer, The Daily Telegraph, pays their university graduates a salary about $10K higher than what I’m on now. Plus 10% superannuation on top.

Mikaela Wilkes is a lifestyle and entertainment reporter with Stuff.

Journalism, like teaching and nursing, is not a career renowned for its pay – as many a well-meaning high school teacher warned me.

But it’s an immensely fulfilling one.

And one I hope to be in all my life, provided that life also involves a house and a slightly less anaemic savings account.

My righteous 15-year-old self would always tell those teachers that money didn’t matter. But having recently celebrated my 26th birthday, my perspective has shifted.

I’m fast approaching my fifth anniversary as a full-time member of the labour force, with $10K in student debt still to repay, and still no hope of affording a warm, dry rental in inner-city Auckland.

The rundown Grey Lynn villa I’ve just moved out of cost me $245 a week before bills (with three others). Setting foot inside, my Gen X father informed me I was lucky I hadn’t fallen through its rotten floors.

Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment officials have forecast that up to 125,000 Kiwis could leave the country in the next year, but said a figure closer to 50,000 is more likely.

We’re paying almost twice the Australian price for the same block of cheese at the supermarket, and one Otago woman said it was cheaper to order her groceries from Australia and get them delivered.

Anecdotally, those numbers stack. I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost count of how many farewell cards I’ve signed and leaving drinks I’ve attended in the last six months.

It’s true Australia’s higher wages, greater career opportunities and warmer climate have lured Kiwis across the ditch for decades. Stats NZ figures show the average weekly income for full-time workers in New Zealand is $1406, while Australians earn an average of $1807, according to their Bureau of Statistics.

But something about this exodus feels different. It’s not the traditional booze-soaked OE in London, or post-pandemic itchy feet to backpack Europe.

It’s a generation of Kiwis across all industries, saying they can’t afford to earn low wages, to pay increasingly high rents (and other people’s mortgages) forever. Hell, they might not even afford groceries this week.

Both countries are grappling with soaring living costs against a rising global tide of inflation, but there is evidence that New Zealanders are doing it particularly tough.

We’re paying almost twice the Australian price for the same block of cheese at the supermarket, and one Otago woman said it was cheaper to order her groceries from Australia and get them delivered.

My chances of homeownership aren’t naught in Auckland, where the median price is $1.125 million. But even with our house prices forecast to hit their lowest point by the middle of 2023, they’ll still be 32% higher than before the pandemic.

Sydney’s rent prices are comparable, but with a 45% pay bump, I’m moving into a renovated inner-city townhouse with built-in wardrobes, bookshelves, and balconies off my bedroom.

I’ll be able to walk to my new office and a train station in minutes, and take a dip in the shared swimming pool in summer. I can’t buy the millennial dream, sure, but I’ll be able to rent it.

There’s also the promise of new bars, restaurants, and beaches to discover, and parties to go to. Travel to do. Friends to make. Dates to go on.

Although if I only wanted to hang out with Kiwi expats, there’d be enough of them.

Travel-prone Kiwis like me were always going to fly the coop. It’s more telling that my settled friends, some of whom never had any desire to move, are going too.

My publicist mate took a $40,000 increase to move to Sydney last winter, and he’s having the time of his life.

A couple of newlywed Wellington nurses recently bought their dream home, did it up, and installed a hot tub. This week, they told me they’ve booked one-way flights to Melbourne next January.

Another friend, working in a government role, told me she can’t keep staff because the Aussie equivalent is offering them $100,000 increases.

I love my life in Aotearoa – my friends, whānau, colleagues, and job are the best. This will always be my home, and I will miss them all dearly.

However, I don’t want to survive my 20s (and most likely 30s and 40s) pay cheque to pay cheque, rental to rental. I want to thrive.