Rich Dad Poor Dad: What the Rich Teach Their Kids About MoneyThat the Poor and Middle Class Do Not!

Lesson #1: The Rich Don’t Work for Money
I didn’t tell my poor dad I wasn’t being paid. He wouldn’t have
understood, and I didn’t want to try to explain something I didn’t
understand myself.
For three more weeks, Mike and I worked three hours every Saturday
for nothing. The work didn’t bother me, and the routine got easier, but it
was the missed baseball games and not being able to afford to buy a few
comic books that got to me.
Rich dad stopped by at noon on the third week. We heard his truck pull
up in the parking lot and sputter when the engine was turned off. He entered
the store and greeted Mrs. Martin with a hug. After finding out how things

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were going in the store, he reached into the ice-cream freezer, pulled out
two bars, paid for them, and signaled to Mike and me.
“Let’s go for a walk, boys.”
We crossed the street, dodging a few cars, and walked across a large
grassy field where a few adults were playing softball. Sitting down at a lone
picnic table, he handed Mike and me the treats.
“How’s it going, boys?”
“Okay,” Mike said.
I nodded in agreement.
“Learn anything yet?” rich dad asked.
Mike and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and shook our
heads in unison.
Avoiding One of Life’s Biggest Traps
“Well, you boys had better start thinking. You’re staring at one of life’s
biggest lessons. If you learn it, you’ll enjoy a life of great freedom and
security. If you don’t, you’ll wind up like Mrs. Martin and most of the
people playing softball in this park. They work very hard for little money,
clinging to the illusion of job security and looking forward to a three-week
vacation each year and maybe a skimpy pension after forty-five years of
service. If that excites you, I’ll give you a raise to 25 cents an hour.”
“But these are good hardworking people. Are you making fun of them?”
I demanded.
A smile came over rich dad’s face.
“Mrs. Martin is like a mother to me. I would never be that cruel. I may
sound unkind because I’m doing my best to point something out to the two
of you. I want to expand your point of view so you can see something most
people never have the benefit of seeing because their vision is too narrow.
Most people never see the trap they are in.”
Mike and I sat there, uncertain of his message. He sounded cruel, yet we
could sense he was trying to drive home a point.
With a smile, rich dad said, “Doesn’t that 25 cents an hour sound good?
Doesn’t it make your heart beat a little faster?”
I shook my head no, but it really did. Twenty-five cents an hour would
be big bucks to me.

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“Okay, I’ll pay you a dollar an hour,” rich dad said, with a sly grin.
Now my heart started to race. My brain was screaming, “Take it. Take
it.” I could not believe what I was hearing. Still, I said nothing.
“Okay, two dollars an hour.”
My little brain and heart nearly exploded. After all, it was 1956 and
being paid $2 an hour would have made me the richest kid in the world. I
couldn’t imagine earning that kind of money. I wanted to say yes. I wanted
the deal. I could picture a new bicycle, new baseball glove, and the
adoration of my friends when I flashed some cash. On top of that, Jimmy
and his rich friends could never call me poor again. But somehow my
mouth stayed shut.
The ice cream had melted and was running down my hand. Rich dad
was looking at two boys staring back at him, eyes wide open and brains
empty. He was testing us, and he knew there was a part of our emotions that
wanted to take the deal. He understood that every person has a weak and
needy part of their soul that can be bought, and he knew that every
individual also had a part of their soul that was resilient and could never be
bought. It was only a question of which one was stronger.
“Okay, five dollars an hour.”
Suddenly I was silent. Something had changed. The offer was too big
and ridiculous. Not many grown-ups in 1956 made more than that, but
quickly my temptation disappeared, and calm set in. Slowly, I turned to my
left to look at Mike. He looked back at me. The part of my soul that was
weak and needy was silenced. The part of me that had no price took over. I
knew Mike had gotten to that point too.