Some People Are So Poor, All They Have Is Money | Teen Ink

Some People Are So Poor, All They Have Is Money

February 28, 2017
By KyleBernd BRONZE, Seattle, Washington
KyleBernd BRONZE, Seattle, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

“Yes! Perfect! Can I have another one in red?” I asked.
“You… you want another one?” The car sales representative asked.
“Yes sir,” I said as I bought my second Lamborghini.
I’m an executive at Goldman Sachs, the largest bank and investment firm in the world, and I just purchased my second luxury car. This is my life, and I would not change a thing. Whether it be the girls, the cars, or my houses, it is just perfect. I know people have the saying that money does not make you happy, but I would have to disagree. I am happy.
Today more than ever I’m feeling lucky; on the way home I didn’t see one homeless man, I just hate seeing them infect my roads and sidewalks. I’m a tax paying citizen. I shouldn’t have to look at them. I remember this one time when I was just starting at Goldman Sachs, I was walking out of the office for lunch with a few of my colleagues, and a homeless man approached me asking for a few dollars. Even though I had money, I looked right in his face, and I spit on his face saying, “Get out of here you useless piece of garbage,” my friends just watched and laughed.
Going to sleep just like every other night, I took my two calcium vitamins and brushed my teeth, left, right, up, and down in tiny circles, never forget. People often describe me as a robot, but I don’t see it, I just like to do everything the same. Why change? Another thing people always ask me is if I have a family. My answer is always simply “I do not have a wife or kids. I do not need them.”
When I woke up this morning, I saw a message on my phone. I turn it on and listen to it say that my mom had died. That is my one chink in my almost impenetrable armour, my mom. Ever since I was young nobody could tell me what to do or change my mind except for my mom. She was my most influential person on this earth, and now she is gone. I headed home to rural Pennsylvania.
On the trip home, I sat first class and talked to a nice woman who was visiting her grandparents for the weekend, once I told her why I was going home she started to tear up.
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
“I can only imagine how sad you must feel, and how sad I would be if my mom passed,” She said, tears visibly starting to roll down her cheeks.
“I am not one for comforting, but I am really quite sad that she is gone, and I hope you have many more happy years with her. Hindsight is always 20/20, but I wish I could have spent more time with her” I said as my eyes start to water.
“Thank you, time feels like it goes by so slow, but when you lose someone, you truly see how fast it really went.” She choked out.
Once I arrived, I jumped in a cab and started home. Knowing what was in store gave me such a bad feeling in my stomach, I am not ready to confront the fact that my mom is gone. Just like what the woman on the plane said, time went by so fast and I just didn’t realize. Some people use the phrase that “I would trade anything to have her back” and that is just not true for me, even though I really miss her, I would trade half of my money on the high side.
I arrive at my parents home a short while later with my suitcase and the speech I prepared for the funeral. My brother comes running out of the house and gives me a big hug.
“Get off Larry! Stop being such a baby” I yell.
“What is wrong with you? I thought you loved mom” He said fighting back the sore feeling in his throat.
“Come on, I have a great life, I have all the money I could have asked for. THat is what mom would have wanted right?” I say.
“While it is true that mom wanted us to succeed and be good members of society over anything else, it is also true that you are an asshole who only cares about himself! You know there are some things in life that don’t come with a price.” He says as he walks off. I could sense that he has been wanting to say that for a while.
At the funeral I can see everyone mourning and some tears. This is not how mom would have wanted her funeral. She wants everyone to be happy and celebrate her life, not mourn her loss. It is nearing my turn to go up and give my speech, and in the pit of my stomach I am dying, I feel nauseous. Everyone is so intrigued by my brother’s memories and then I hear my name.
“John, please come and give your memories, everyone would like to hear.” The announcer said.
So I start to walk until I see a familiar looking man in the second row, he is in his sixties, sort of dirty and very tired looking. It takes me a second, but I soon remember him, and when I do I stop dead in my tracks. It is the homeless man whose face I spat in a couple of days ago.
I slowly start to move again after hearing the announcer call my name again. Walking to the front of the podium, I begin to pull out my paper with my speech, but I leave it in my
pocket. 
“I was going to come up here and give a speech about how much I loved my mom and how much she helped me in becoming the successful person whom I have become today, but I would like to take this brief time in front of you to say I am sorry. My whole life, I have been in love with one thing and one thing only. Money. But I recently met a woman on a plane who told me that when you are with a person, time seems to go slow, but when they are gone, you realize that time went by so fast. I am nearly 40 years old and I haven’t done anything notable in my whole life. Sure I am an executive at the world’s largest banking firm, but that doesn’t mean anything if I haven’t impacted those around me. For this I apologize.”
I walk back to my seat with the applause filling my ears and my heart. Passing the homeless man I can see his face has a pleased smile on it as he spreads his love.
After the service, I find the man and I confront him.
“What are you doing here sir?” I ask.
“I am your mom’s brother, I have ran into some tough time and that was why I was asking for money, so I could go and attend this funeral.” He says.
“I… I don’t know what to say sir,” I stumble, absolutely awestruck.
“I forgive you.” He says, as he gives me a hug and walks out the doors.


The author's comments:

This topic has always interested me, because I always see this reoccuring issue of wealthy people losing sight of what is truly important, so I chose to write this piece to address this.


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