To my friends and people who know I exist, I’ve always been “the money guy.” Not in the traditional sense, that is…not the guy who has money either through family or otherwise, not that type of money guy. But more like the guy who’s always been “obsessed” with making lots of money.
I see why anyone that came across me would think that. I’m that guy who, over the years, at numerous nine-to-fives, always talked about “doing my own thing.”
The guy that always talked about how nice it would be to not work at the crappy job doing repeatable meaningless tasks or simply just making someone else rich while getting the short end of the stick.
People like me may seem obsessed, odd, or even ‘materialistic’ to people who could care less about money. To many people around me at the time, pursuing financial freedom seemed like a sin, and settling for a 60k-a-year Midwestern salary with good benefits was the way to go.
Frankly, I don’t blame them. I really don’t. There’s nothing wrong with that. Heck, I wish my mother had the luxury of having one of those jobs back when we were dead broke.
However, those who knew me at the time never understood that, for the most part, I’ve always been obsessed not with “money getting” but instead with “option having.”
Perhaps I should have made it clear to them. But at the end of the day, I didn’t have to. I’ve always known where I was headed.
What they call ‘obsession’ is just a deep feeling that goes back to my pre-teen years growing up as an immigrant in the US.
Financial instability was always present at home. At any given time, an unexpected $300-$500 expense meant we could not pay toward the ever-accumulating electric bill, which often resulted in the power going out at home and mom having to drive to a local community help center to essentially beg for them to pay our light bill.
That happened on more than one occasion.
When I was 14, I was obsessed with randomly popping wheelies and riding my bike for long distances on one wheel. One afternoon, I popped one, and my bike’s rear braking cable broke.
For those unfamiliar with the BMX world, the back break is the only thing keeping you from falling flat on your back when you’re wheeling. So, as you can imagine, I felt flat out on the road and hurt my back…very bad.
My mother took me to St. Vincent’s; the doctors scanned my body and determined I had to wear a back brace…for 14 hours a day, for about six months or however long necessary. The out-of-pocket costs? $700ish. My single mother of four kids almost fainted. Back in 2004, that was like a million dollars to us. For context, this was more than what we paid for rent then.
I can still remember my mom’s face. Uncertainty, helplessness, the fear of being unable to afford it, and her son ending with a permanent injury. I’ll never forget.
She told the doctor she could not afford it. He left the room and returned 15 minutes later with someone who took the measurements to mold my back and create the back brace. He also told us he had paid for the back brace himself. God bless his soul. I wish I could thank him in person.
I could tell you about countless stories just like that one. But I’ll save those for my therapist. You may ask yourself, why share that anecdote with strangers on the internet. Great question.
See, my mother didn’t have options. She didn’t have options because she didn’t have money. At any point, something as little as an unexpected $200 expense meant we would risk paying rent, paying the electric bill, or having to eat frozen chicken patties and Tampico juice for breakfast and dinner.
My only obsession is never to go back to being broke again. To have options for healthier foods and access to better care and quality things.
Most people I met working in the tech industry have spent time backpacking in Europe during their Early 20s.
Once, In a Zoom meeting, they discussed their travel experiences. Some talked about backpacking through Europe and teaching English in China, etc. I felt so damn out of place.
Ironically, these types of people are the ones who tell me I work too hard or I’m too money-focused. Once, I overheard a coworker suggest letting me have a task because “Geanny likes money.” For context, those were tasks counted towards our bonus.
They fail to realize that they could travel carefree (and money-free?) early on because their parents (some first-generation immigrants) worked incredibly hard so their children could have those options. Their parents sure didn’t get to backpack across Europe.
They are simply enjoying the shade provided by a tree planted many years ago.
My goal is to have options. Freedom of choice and never, ever, ever allow an unexpected, relatively small, surprising expense to put myself and my family in a vulnerable place again. I want to be able to own my time.
So, no, I’m not the “money guy”…I’m hustling because I’m a generation behind.