Of Father and Son

I read somewhere that people generally are divided into two kinds, Bosses and Workers. This has nothing to do with Kiyosaki’s Cashflow Quadrant, where he states about the four kind of workers: Employees, Self-Employed workers, Business Owners, and Investors. The first statement I took (from a particularly forgettable book) just to make my next paragraphs rings true.

I had a sister who will most probably end up to be the first kind, but my father and I are definitely the latter one. As genuine workers, we have a huge trade off for our job and financial security by "losing" our chance to become rich quickly (Unless we win a lottery or something). Dad worked as an employee far in a Celebes remote area for Aneka Tambang, some kind of state owned company. I remember he wakes up every morning and work long hours each day, and always be a hard and dedicated worker without ever being rich.

“At least we make an honest living Heru”, that’s what my father used to say. Yeah, he is an honest and straight as an arrow person. I’m not really sure if I were to be on his position I wouldn’t take plenty advantages from the perk he had during the 30 long years of work in the company. I still remember like it was yesterday, my mom used to complain about how things are so expensive and we don’t have anything special in the house like our neighbors who had a nice sofa and kitchen set or their son playing with expensive gadgets.

Dad now is already retired and stay in Makassar, along with his gold wrist watch as a token of appreciation from his former company. Not content with nothing to do all day, he decided to open up a ‘not so convenient store’ in our home. Using my old room and opening up spaces here and there, the shop was ready to sell anything from shampoo sachets to gallons of mineral water. When I was back at home during the last holidays I watched in tears as my dad while sleepy, patiently dealing with a restless junior customer buying candies with a torn 100 rupiah note.

Watching the store and dealing with the many kind of customers is quite an art. You have to be all smiley and helpful and sometimes content with a few being slightly ignorant. Living in the big cities where ten thousands of rupiah is virtually next to nothing, I used to be a little careless with cash. Something I picked up during my picket time in the shop is that you really have to learn to appreciate money, because you have to work really hard earning every cents.

There’s a popular belief nowadays (with money being the new god) that employees and self employed workers are the worst position to be in. My father may never get rich working this way, but I’m sure that he is happy and proud of what he achieved in his life. How he managed to provide decent education for his son and daughters and still be there for us whenever we needed him. It was 1991 when my high school selection process began and he drove me with his motorcycle as far as 230 kilometers all by himself. I also recall the day he was so dissapointed when i decided to quit military academy to join my uni, yet he keep his loving support thru' the years.

Well, I don’t know about Rich Dad and Poor Dad, haven’t read it. But I love my Dad, rich or poor.