Reader Mark A. from Queens, New York, recently sent us this enlightening story about growing up poor, and meeting a kid from a rich family. Read it below.
I was poor growing up, and most of my friends were poor / middle class. There was this one dude who drove a crappy, falling apart beater car. He was always hustling to and from work, trying to make a buck to afford repairs for his car.
One night, after we had been friends for a while, he invited a bunch of us over to his house. He even offered to pick us all up. Imagine our surprise when we rolled up into the ritziest neighborhood in our area.
He lived in a mansion. Indoor pool, elevator, the whole nine yards. We were flummoxed. Someone said “Dude, we had no idea you were rich.”
His answer: I’m not rich, my parents are; they worked very hard to get that way.
At first we felt bad for him – filthy rich parents and he’s working his butt off to afford a beater?!?
Now I get it though.
He was lucky his parents cared enough to instill a work ethic in him. It turned out to be a very good thing in the long run.
The greatest gift this “rich family” was able to pass down to their son wasn’t their material wealth — but a great character and work ethic. This is the American way.
Agree? Pass it on.
