RICH DAD POOR DAD By- Robert Kiyosaki 003

 What is in those plaster molds? My dad asked, watch. I said, this should be a good batch with a small hammer. I tapped at the seal that divided the cube in half. Cautiously, I pulled up the top half of the plaster mold and a lead nickel fell out Ohh my god, my dad said you were casting nickels out of lead. That's right. Like I said,

We're doing as you told us to do. We're making money. My dad. friend turned numerous to the left. My dad smiled and shook his head. Along with a fire and a box of spent toothpaste tubes in front of him were two little boys covered with white dust, smiling from ear to ear. He asked us to put everything down and sit with him on the front step of our house with a smile. He gently explained what the word counterfeiting meant. Our dream. were dashed. You mean this is illegal? Asked Mike in a quivering voice. But them go. My dad's friend said they might be developing a natural talent. My dad glared at him. Yes. it is illegal. My dad said gently. But you boys have shown great creativity and original thought. Keep going. I'm really proud of you. Disappointed. Mike and I sat in silence for about 20 minutes before we began cleaning up our mess. The business was over on opening day sweeping the powder up. I looked at Mike and said, I guess Jimmy and his friends are right. We are poor. My father was just leaving as I said that boys, he said you're only poor if you give up. The most important thing is that you did something. Most people only talk and dream of getting rich. You've done something. I'm very proud of the two of you. I will say it again. Keep going. Don't quit. Michael. and I stood there in silence. They were nice words. But we still did not know what to do so. how come you're not? rich dad, I asked because I chose to be a school teacher. School teachers really don't think about being rich. We just like to teach. I wish No, for a guinea. Jorge Guinea. So I can help you, but I really don't know how to make money. Mike, and I turned and continued our cleanup. 

I know, said my dad. If you boys want to learn how to be rich, don't ask me. Talk to your dad. Mike, my dad asked Mike with a scrunched up face. Yeah, your dad repeated my dad with a smile. Your dad and I have the same banker, and he raves about your father. He's told me several times that your father is brilliant when it comes to making money. My dad, Mike asked again and disbelief then how come we don't have a nice car and a nice house like the rich kids at school? A nice. car and a nice house don't necessarily mean you're rich or you know how to make money. My dad replied. Jimmy's dad works for the sugar plantation. He's not much different from me. He works for a company and I work for the government. The company buys the car for him. The sugar company is in financial trouble and Jimmy's dad may soon have nothing. Your dad is different. Mike. He seems to be building an empire. And I suspect in a few years he will be a very rich man. With that, Mike and I got excited again with new vigor. We began cleaning up the mess caused by our now defunct first business as we were cleaning, we made plans for how and when to talk to Mike's dad. The problem was that Mike's dad worked long hours and often did not come home until late. His father owned warehouses, a construction company, a chain of stores and three restaurants. It was the restaurants that kept him out late. Mike. caught the bus home after we had finished cleaning up. He was going to talk to his dad when he got home that night and asked him if he would teach us how to become rich. Mike promised to call as soon as he had talked to his dad, even if it was late. The phone rang at 8:30 PMOKI said next Saturday. I put the phone down. Mike's dad had agreed to meet with us on Saturday.

 I caught the 7:30 AM bus to the poor side of town. The lessons begin. Mike and I met with his dad that morning at 8:00 o'clock. He was already busy having been at work for more than an hour. His construction supervisor was just leaving in his pickup truck as I walked up to his simple, small and tidy home. Mike met me at the door Dance on the phone and he said to wait on the back porch. Weg said as he opened the door. The old. wooden floor creeped as I stepped across the threshold of the aging house. There was a cheap mat just inside the door. The mat was there to hide the years of wear from countless footsteps that the floor had supported. Although clean, it needed to be replaced. I felt. claustrophobic as I entered the narrow living room that was filled with old, musty, overstuffed furniture that today would be collectors items sitting on the couch were two women, both a little older than my mom. Across from the women, said a man in Workman's clothes. He wore khaki slacks and a khaki shirt, neatly pressed, but without starch, and polished work boots. He was about 10 years older than my dad. They smiled as Mike and I walked past them toward the back porch. I smiled back shyly. Who are those people? I asked, oh, they work for my dad. The older man runs his warehouses, and the women are the managers of the restaurants And as you arrived, you saw the construction supervisor who was working on a road project about 50 miles from here. His other supervisor, who was building a track of houses left before you got here Does this go on all the time? I asked not always, but quite often said Mike smiling as he pulled up a chair to sit down next to me. I asked. him. I asked my dad if he would teach us to make money. Mike said. Oh, and what did he say to that? I asked with cautious curiosity. He. had a funny look on his face at first, and then he said he would make us an offer Oh, I said rocking my chair back against the wall. I sat there, perched on two rear legs of the chair. Mike did the same thing. Do you know what the offer is? I asked no, but will soon find out suddenly. Mike's dad burst through the rickety screen door and onto the porch. Mike and I jumped to our feet. Not out of respect, but because we were startled. Ready, boys? He asked as he pulled up a chair to sit down with us. We nodded our heads as we pulled our chairs away from the wall to sit in front of him. He was a big man. About six feet tall and 200 pounds. My dad was taller about the same weight and five years older than Mike's dad. They sort of looked alike, though not of the same ethnic makeup. Maybe their energy was similar Mike says you want to learn to make money. Is that correct? Robert,

I nodded my head quickly, but with a little trepidation, he had a lot of power behind his words and smile. OK, here's my offer. I'll teach you, but I won't do it. Classroom style. You work for me. I'll teach you. You don't work for me. I won't teach you. I can teach you faster if you work and I'm wasting my time. If you just want to sit and listen like you do in school. That's my offer. Take it or leave it. Ah, may I ask a question first? I asked no take it or leave it. I've got too much work to do to waste my time. If you can't make up your mind decisively, then you'll never learn to make money anyway. Opportunities come and go. Being able to know when to make quick decisions is an important skill. You have the opportunity that you asked for. School is beginning or it's over in 10 seconds. Mike's dad said with a teasing smile. Take it. I said take it. Said Mike Good. Said Mike's dad Mrs Martin will be by in 10 minutes after I'm through with her. You'll ride with her to my super Ed, and you can begin working. I'll pay you 10 cents an hour and you'll work three hours every Saturday. But I have a softball game today. I said Mike's dad lowered his voice to a stern tone. Take it or leave it, he said. I'll take it. I replied, choosing to work and learn instead of playing. 30 cents later By 9:00 AM that day, Mike and I were working for Mrs Martin. She was a kind and patient woman. She always said that Mike and I reminded her of her two grown sons, although kind she believed in hard work and kept us moving. We spent three hours taking canned goods off the shelves, brushing each can with a feather duster to get the dust off and then restacking them neatly. It was excruciatingly boring work Mike's dad, whom I called my rich dad, owned nine of these little super Ed's, each with a large parking lot. They were the early version of the 7 Eleven convenience stores. Little neighborhood grocery stores where people bought items such as milk bread, butter and cigarettes. The problem was that this was Hawaii before air conditioning was widely used, and the stores could not close their doors because of the heat on Tuesday. On two sides of the store, the doors had to be wide open to the road and parking lot every time a car drove by or pulled into the parking lot. 

Dust would swirl and settle in the store. We knew we had a job as long as there was no air conditioning for three weeks, Mike and I reported to Mrs Martin and worked our three hours. By noon, our work was over and she dropped three little dimes in each of our hands. Now, even at the age of nine in the mid 1950s 30 cents was not too exciting. Comic books cost 10 cents back then, so I usually spent my money on comic books and went home by Wednesday of the 4th week. I was ready to quit. I had agreed to work only because I wanted to learn to make money from Mike's dad, and now I was a slave for 10 cents an hour. On top of that, I had not seen Mike's dad since that first Saturday. I'm quitting, I told Mike at lunchtime. School was boring, and now I did not even have my Saturdays to look forward to. But it was the $0.30 that really got to me this time. Mike smiled. What are you laughing at? I asked with anger and frustration. Dad said this would happen. He said to meet with him when you were ready to quit What I said indignantly. He's been waiting for me to get fed up words. You just wait till this Saturday. I'll tell him. you're ready. You. mean, I've been set up. No, not really, but maybe dad will explain on Saturday.