Money and Pride Reveal Who We Are

“You know, some people here were willing to pay for that kind of service, but a lot of people have the money but don’t want to spend it.” He looks at me, pointing his finger and nodding slightly. “I think it’s just a matter of personality. Truly, I do.”

I smile in response, looking down at my hands as I dry them. It doesn’t take but one glance around the building surrounding us to know that money is a stark marker between types of people. “I think you’re right, it does depend on personality.”

As he walks away, I think about all the times I’ve seen him striding around the dealership lot, always with a purpose. The fine lines around his eyes and the slightly hunched-over posture belies a tired soul. Yet, though another of my coworkers dismisses his abilities—due to his age, of course—but I’m not so quick to judge. I find that the most capable of us out there are more comfortable away from the spotlight, the responsibilities, and even the big money.

Later that day, as I’m commuting back home, I consider the cars around me. Their drivers’ behavior, as well as the states their vehicles are in, tells a story. A story much like the one told to me earlier, which ended in the life lesson shared over the hand-washing station in a high-end dealership.

Years ago, my senior coworker had been traveling across the country with a few friends. They stopped at a farm one day to rest. A farmer enlisted their help and afterwards offered to pay them for their time and effort. “You only had to take one look around the place to know he needed every cent he could earn,” my coworker had told me. “So we politely declined, telling him it was all we could do in exchange for some food and a place to rest.” The farmer, however, would not hear of letting them go without proper appreciation. Though he was near destitute, his heart was still generous enough to show his fellow human beings his gratitude.

Thinking back to a few hours earlier, I knew that such an experience made a great impact upon my coworker’s outlook on life. I feel it does not matter how much or little you have in the bank. It’s the inside that matters most.

It’s tough to write this story; I feel corny and preachy. Numerous songs and bad rom-coms play off this very idea to jaded audiences all the time. We’ve all heard that money and happiness are two concepts not often associated with one another, but does that mean to be happy you have to swear off ever being comfortable—or, dare I say it, rich?

When I think about where I’ve come from and how much I’ve worked to get where I am, I think that money can be a great tool, but one that should be used with a sense of conscientiousness. Both my boyfriend and I know the value of a dollar and as much as we would love to spend all our paychecks on nice things, this life brings responsibilities. We are not all so fortunate to have others in our lives to relieve some of those burdens for us.

Truth be told, I used to be bitter about the amount of money I had spent on my family. The one resource I worked hard to obtain, meant to ease the stress of my loved ones, was a tool turned into a weapon against me.

I now realize that as much injustice as was done to me, I also allowed myself to endure. With money now on the table, problems would disappear from my life like bubbles popping on a summer day. That’s what I thought would happen.

Like hammer blows upon forged metal, the cards we are dealt show no mercy. As players, it is up to us to make our best out of what we’ve been handed. No matter how forcefully that hand comes to us.

So far this year, I’ve experienced many new things, some of which have broken me. My only friend in this life besides my beloved journeyed away from me and the one job I considered to be my salvation tore at my mental wounds and exposed shameful parts of me. In fact, it made me turn against the world, pushing away the one who loved me most.

I cannot tell you why the story of the impoverished farmer stays with me, even now. Why a man who fights the earth day and night would open his hand towards his fellow man and give what he seemingly cannot afford to part with. I felt shame at worrying about the trivial issues I surround myself with on a daily basis when I heard about this act of kindness. We are all meant to fight our own battles, but perhaps we can learn a few things from the struggles of others.

You may consider this post to be an opinion on the larger aspects of life that we all struggle with, but I encourage you, rather, to ponder your own life instead. What do you hold before you, what standards do you create for yourself? Who are you living for?

Some of us are so lucky to learn these answers while we are still living.

 

Rebecca Henderson holds a Master’s in German and a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing. Best expressing herself through the written word, she enjoys the smell of burning rubber and can recite the ABC’s of the automotive world upon command. Rebecca hopes to shift your world perspective through her words, because looking out the same window every day hardly makes for an interesting life.