I make $60,000 working in the Hamptons. Here’s how the other half lives

This article is part of a series of firsthand accounts from people who work in high cost-of-living areas and are struggling to stay financially afloat. If you’d like to share your perspective, reach out to staff writer Pavithra Mohan at pmohan@fastcompany.com.

The Hamptons have long been an enclave for the rich and famous. But during the pandemic, the region only grew more desirable, transcending its status as a summer getaway for the wealthy. As affluent New Yorkers moved out there full-time, they drove up housing costs in an already steep real estate market, making life in the Hamptons even more untenable for local workers. Between 2010 and 2021, the population of East Hampton jumped by more than 30%, according to U.S. census data.  

Over the last few years, school enrollment has spiked and businesses have flocked to the region to capitalize on the influx of residents. But what happens when the very people who staff local businesses can no longer afford to stay in the Hamptons? For 37-year-old Miles Maier, who has spent almost his entire life in East Hampton—and nearly 20 years working for the town—it’s increasingly difficult to picture a future in which he can continue living there, let alone buy property. 

Here, Maier shares what it’s like to live in the Hamptons as a public-sector employee. This conversation has been edited for space and clarity.

‘You depend on the workforce to keep the community alive and going’

My family moved out here [when] I was around one. We lived in a trailer park for about a year. My parents got on the affordable housing lottery and then got a house. The town was buying up plots of land and building homes to keep local families here. The East End was kind of building up at that point, in the late ’80s going into the ’90s.

I got [my] job pretty much right out of high school. I didn’t really have prospects of going to college or a trade school or really have any clear understanding of what my future was going to be. The marine patrol department was looking for a laborer [for] maintenance and mechanic work. Since then, I’ve pretty much been here doing that. 

I’m 37, so I’ve been out of high school for almost 20 years. There is a large swath of people that I grew up with and graduated with that took off. Since COVID-19 started, the rate of [price] increases on everything from groceries to gasoline to housing is just astronomical. When I graduated high school, I think you could probably rent a one bedroom [and] private bathroom somewhere for maybe $800 to $1,000 a month at the highest. Right now, I defy you to try to find a place for one person [for] less than $2,500 a month. A lot of places out here are not even full apartments. [You may] have a bedroom, private bathroom, and a private entrance. You can’t really use the rest of the house. Here’s a microwave, a coffeemaker, and a hot plate. Good luck. And you pay over $2,000 a month. 

Locals don’t even shop here. If you want to go buy a pair of shoes or a T-shirt, you’re not going to find one place that is even reasonably affordable. We all joke around that if you see people walking down the street with shopping bags, you know it’s summertime because local people don’t buy things in the village. [In] Montauk, I would say we’ve seen a big change [with] the introduction of beachfront nightclubs and bars; you can go out there and buy a mixed drink for $26.

You depend on the workforce to keep the community alive and going. When you realize that people are barely able to keep their head above water financially, it’s kind of like a bad tradeoff. We’re here to make sure this town is here for everybody who wants to come out on vacation. When you look at compensation [and] cost of living, you go: Well how is that even possible? 

‘It’s taken me 18 years to make $60,000’

I’m an hourly employee. It’s taken me 18 years to make $60,000 [per year]. [As] someone coming out of high school with no real skill or trade or career path, I took the bottom of the barrel, lowest paid job for just a blue collar kind of guy. While I’ve been fortunate to make more money over the years, sometimes when I talk to other people and kind of explain how long I’ve had my job [and] what my compensation is, they look at me like: holy crap. And I’ve only really been able to make it work because at 18 years old, my parents didn’t kick me out the house. They were very willing to work with me and understood how hard it was to have your own place. Currently, I’m living with a buddy of mine, and his mother is our landlord so we have a really good thing going. If I didn’t have the ability to live with a friend, I would have probably gone back to my parents’ house because I honestly wouldn’t be able to afford renting a place anywhere else.

When I first got the job, our main function and responsibility was essentially rebuilding all of the floating docks and redoing the town’s public marinas. Now it’s shifted to maintenance and repairs because some of these things are 20 years old. We take care of our office building, the [patrol] boats, trailers, trucks, and pretty much anything in between—replacing rotten deck boards on boat docks or broken cleats to oil changes [and] winterization.  

People come in and understand what the salary and compensation package is, and I think they have this hope that things will change. And after a few years, [they] realize it doesn’t really work that way around here. You’ll find a lot of people either going to another job in another municipality [doing] the same work, or they go into the private sector and they find they have a lot more opportunities for upward mobility. 

Over the last 18 years that I’ve been here, I’ve seen many people get hired and leave because they can’t stay in town. And then out of towners [come] in looking for work because it’s cheaper to live up island, but you make more money out east, so they make that commute. I have looked around numerous times over my career [at] different municipalities. But for the most part out here, you’re looking at one- to two-lane highways. I could move away and commute to work and spend less money on rent, but [then] I’m spending more money on gas and commuting. Here I’m spending more on rent, but my commute is less than 10 minutes.

‘There’s no way I can raise a family here’

I can only speak for myself—that I decided to stick it out just to see how it could play out. I was being optimistic because I do love being out here. I was raised here, and now I work for the town and I’m one of the people to help keep the town operating. Being a public servant, [I feel] pride in that work, because it matters. 

[But] it is a very sad situation for someone like myself who has been here my whole life, who loves the town, [and] loves being on the water. You see pictures in magazines of East Hampton and the Hamptons, and in the movies and TV constantly. I tell people I live [here] and they’re like “Oh, that’s amazing!” Yeah, it’s a beautiful place to be, but it’s very depressing to feel like you’re being priced out and squeezed out of a place that you’ve called home for decades. I would love nothing more than to stay here. My parents own their home, so I always have a place to go in the future. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to own my own home. And hasn’t that always been part of the American dream? 

When you feel like you don’t have a say, like the decision is being made for you, it becomes even more aggravating. There’s no way I can raise a family here. It’s just not in the cards. You get to a point where you can’t keep getting blood from a stone. You just look around and you go, well, maybe it’s just that time—time to make a change.