EPISODE 6
Finally, 15 minutes later, at exactly nine o’clock, rich dad walked out
of his office, said nothing, and signaled with his hand for me to enter.
“I understand you want a raise, or you’re going to quit,” rich dad
said as he swiveled in his office chair.
“Well, you’re not keeping your end of the bargain,” I blurted out,
nearly in tears. It was really frightening for me to confront a grown-up.
“You said that you would teach me if I worked for you. Well, I’ve
worked for you. I’ve worked hard. I’ve given up my baseball games to
work for you, but you haven’t kept your word, and you haven’t taught
me anything. You are a crook like everyone in town thinks you are.
You’re greedy. You want all the money and don’t take care of your
employees. You made me wait and don’t show me any respect. I’m
only a little boy, but I deserve to be treated better.”
Rich dad rocked back in his swivel chair, hands up to his chin,
and stared at me.
“Not bad,” he said. “In less than a month, you sound like most
of my employees.”
“What?” I asked. Not understanding what he was saying, I
continued with my grievance. “I thought you were going to keep
your end of the bargain and teach me. Instead you want to torture
me? That’s cruel. That’s really cruel.”
“I am teaching you,” rich dad said quietly.
“What have you taught me? Nothing!” I said angrily. “You haven’t
even talked to me once since I agreed to work for peanuts. Ten cents an
hour. Hah! I should notify the government about you. We have child
labor laws, you know. My dad works for the government, you know.”
“Wow!” said rich dad. “Now you sound just like most of the people
who used to work for me—people I’ve either fired or who have quit.”
“So what do you have to say?” I demanded, feeling pretty brave
for a little kid. “You lied to me. I’ve worked for you, and you have not
kept your word. You haven’t taught me anything.”
“How do you know that I’ve not taught you anything?” asked rich
dad calmly.
“Well, you’ve never talked to me. I’ve worked for three weeks and
you have not taught me anything,” I said with a pout.
“Does teaching mean talking or a lecture?” rich dad asked.
“Well, yes,” I replied.
“That’s how they teach you in school,” he said, smiling. “But
that is not how life teaches you, and I would say that life is the best
teacher of all. Most of the time, life does not talk to you. It just sort
of pushes you around. Each push is life saying, ‘Wake up. There’s
something I want you to learn.’”
“What is this man talking about?” I asked myself silently. “Life
pushing me around was life talking to me?” Now I knew I had to quit
my job. I was talking to someone who needed to be locked up.
“If you learn life’s lessons, you will do well. If not, life will just
continue to push you around. People do two things. Some just let life
push them around. Others get angry and push back. But they push
back against their boss, or their job, or their husband or wife. They
do not know it’s life that’s pushing.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Life pushes all of us around. Some people give up and others
fight. A few learn the lesson and move on. They welcome life pushing
them around. To these few people, it means they need and want to
learn something. They learn and move on. Most quit, and a few like
you fight.”
Rich dad stood and shut the creaky old wooden window that
needed repair. “If you learn this lesson, you will grow into a wise,
wealthy, and happy young man. If you don’t, you will spend your
life blaming a job, low pay, or your boss for your problems. You’ll
live life always hoping for that big break that will solve all your
money problems.”
Rich dad looked over at me to see if I was still listening. His eyes
met mine. We stared at each other, communicating through our eyes.
Finally, I looked away once I had absorbed his message. I knew he
was right. I was blaming him, and I did ask to learn. I was fighting.
Rich dad continued, “Or if you’re the kind of person who has
no guts, you just give up every time life pushes you. If you’re that
kind of person, you’ll live all your life playing it safe, doing the right
things, saving yourself for some event that never happens. Then you
die a boring old man. You’ll have lots of friends who really like you
because you were such a nice hardworking guy. But the truth is that
you let life push you into submission. Deep down you were terrified
of taking risks. You really wanted to win, but the fear of losing was
greater than the excitement of winning. Deep inside, you and only
you will know you didn’t go for it. You chose to play it safe.”
Our eyes met again.
“You’ve been pushing me around?” I asked.
“Some people might say that,” smiled rich dad. “I would say that
I just gave you a taste of life.”
“What taste of life?” I asked, still angry, but now curious and
ready to learn.
“You boys are the first people who have ever asked me to teach
them how to make money. I have more than 150 employees, and not
one of them has asked me what I know about money. They ask me for
a job and a paycheck, but never to teach them about money. So most
will spend the best years of their lives working for money, not really
understanding what it is they are working for.”
I sat there listening intently.
“So when Mike told me you wanted to learn how to make money,
I decided to design a course that mirrored real life. I could talk until
I was blue in the face, but you wouldn’t hear a thing. So I decided to
let life push you around a bit so you could hear me. That’s why I only
paid you 10 cents.”
“So what is the lesson I learned from working for only 10 cents an
hour?” I asked. “That you’re cheap and exploit your workers?”
Rich dad rocked back and laughed heartily. Finally he said,
“You’d best change your point of view. Stop blaming me and thinking
I’m the problem. If you think I’m the problem, then you have to
change me. If you realize that you’re the problem, then you can
change yourself, learn something, and grow wiser. Most people want
everyone else in the world to change but themselves. Let me tell you,
it’s easier to change yourself than everyone else.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Don’t blame me for your problems,” rich dad said, growing impatient.
“But you only pay me 10 cents.”
“So what are you learning?” rich dad asked, smiling.
“That you’re cheap,” I said with a sly grin.
“See, you think I’m the problem,” said rich dad.
“But you are.”
“Well, keep that attitude and you’ll learn nothing. Keep the
attitude that I’m the problem and what choices do you have?”
“Well, if you don’t pay me more or show me more respect and
teach me, I’ll quit.”
“Well put,” rich dad said. “And that’s exactly what most people
do. They quit and go looking for another job, a better opportunity,
and higher pay, actually thinking that this will solve the problem. In
most cases, it won’t.”
“So what should I do?” I asked. “Just take this measly 10 cents an
hour and smile?”
Rich dad smiled. “That’s what the other people do. But that’s all
they do, waiting for a raise thinking that more money will solve their
problems. Most just accept it, and some take a second job working
harder, but again accepting a small paycheck.”
I sat staring at the floor, beginning to understand the lesson
rich dad was presenting. I could sense it was a taste of life. Finally,
I looked up and asked, “So what will solve the problem?”
“This,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and tapping me
gently on the head. “This stuff between your ears.”
It was at that moment that rich dad shared the pivotal point of
view that separated him from his employees and my poor dad—and
led him to eventually become one of the richest men in Hawaii, while
my highly educated but poor dad struggled financially all his life.
It was a singular point of view that made all the difference over
a lifetime.