much I’d like to go out with her, I’d been striking out in terms of coming up with ways to impress her. But inviting her to the dance was a great idea. Girls like dances. I don’t know why, I think they’re horrible—my friends and I just hang around the refreshment table hoping we’re not going to have to ask anyone to dance—but everything would be different if I walked in as Tina’s date.
Just then, I saw a flash of blond hair outside the cafeteria that could only belong to Tina. I decided to make my move.
I just hadn’t expected that my move would be tripping over the janitor’s bucket, spilling 700 gallons of filthy water on the floor. Which then cascaded down the southwest stairwell. The water picked up speed and, tsunami-like, wiped out a small group of sixth graders on the bottom step. I hung my head over the railing and watched them cartwheel off the step and land in a dingy puddle on the floor. I exhaled when one raised a hand to flash an “I’m-okay” thumbs-up.
As I slipped away from the gathering crowd and slunk down the hall to my next class, hoping no one would know I’d caused the flood and crash, I realized that it was just as well I hadn’t been able to ask Tina to go to the dance with me—I couldn’t afford the tickets yet.
Close call.
I had to find a way to make some money again. And pretty fast, too.
I’d read about a kid who started his own lawn-care service and became filthy, stinking rich. He made it look so easy.
Because my mother works in a bookstore, she brings home piles of books all the time. As soon as I got home from school, I dug through the shelves in the family room and pulled out all the business books. I’ve always liked reading about military history and have learned a lot about how to handle problems that way. The business books turned out to be kind of the same thing, except instead of generals, it’s the chief operating officers who run the show. Same principle, though—divide, conquer, plunder, pillage, reap the spoils. Wash, rinse, repeat.
This was going to be great, I could just feel it. I wondered, though, why it had taken me until I was fourteen to think about getting rich. Better late than never, right? And after all, how many teenage gazillionaires are there? Getting rich would be helpful in making Tina realize how awesome her life would be once she became my girlfriend.
I was on track to win the girl of my dreams and get some money again.
I just had to figure out how.
2
The Successful Person Has Vision That Others Lack
I got my first idea when my buddies and I were playing poker during lunch the next day in a corner of the cafeteria. We didn’t play for money, but for points.
“Points for what?” I finally asked JonPaul as we were leaving the cafeteria.
“We’ve been playing together since sixth grade and that’s the way we’ve always done it,” he answered. “We add up the points we’ve won and lost at the end of every hand, and I keep track of our overall winnings in my notebook.” He held it up, like I’d never seen his ratty old notebook before.
“Yeah, I know, but don’t you think we could make things more interesting if we played for money?”
“We can’t bet money on school property.”
“We’ll play off school property, then.”
“You don’t have money,” he reminded me.
“I could do something about that.”
“Like what?”
“Start a poker game.”
“We have a poker game.”
JonPaul is a great friend, but he will never be business partner material. The poor guy doesn’t know how to think past the obvious to spot the potential the way I do. I’d thought it would be nice to be a team—me and JonPaul getting rich together. But I could already see that he’d be better off in a less ambitious position—more assistant than associate.
“Here’s my plan: I organize a weekly poker game, for money, with the guys, away from school. I always win because they’re terrible players, so that’s a great way
Just then, I saw a flash of blond hair outside the cafeteria that could only belong to Tina. I decided to make my move.
I just hadn’t expected that my move would be tripping over the janitor’s bucket, spilling 700 gallons of filthy water on the floor. Which then cascaded down the southwest stairwell. The water picked up speed and, tsunami-like, wiped out a small group of sixth graders on the bottom step. I hung my head over the railing and watched them cartwheel off the step and land in a dingy puddle on the floor. I exhaled when one raised a hand to flash an “I’m-okay” thumbs-up.
As I slipped away from the gathering crowd and slunk down the hall to my next class, hoping no one would know I’d caused the flood and crash, I realized that it was just as well I hadn’t been able to ask Tina to go to the dance with me—I couldn’t afford the tickets yet.
Close call.
I had to find a way to make some money again. And pretty fast, too.
I’d read about a kid who started his own lawn-care service and became filthy, stinking rich. He made it look so easy.
Because my mother works in a bookstore, she brings home piles of books all the time. As soon as I got home from school, I dug through the shelves in the family room and pulled out all the business books. I’ve always liked reading about military history and have learned a lot about how to handle problems that way. The business books turned out to be kind of the same thing, except instead of generals, it’s the chief operating officers who run the show. Same principle, though—divide, conquer, plunder, pillage, reap the spoils. Wash, rinse, repeat.
This was going to be great, I could just feel it. I wondered, though, why it had taken me until I was fourteen to think about getting rich. Better late than never, right? And after all, how many teenage gazillionaires are there? Getting rich would be helpful in making Tina realize how awesome her life would be once she became my girlfriend.
I was on track to win the girl of my dreams and get some money again.
I just had to figure out how.
2
The Successful Person Has Vision That Others Lack
I got my first idea when my buddies and I were playing poker during lunch the next day in a corner of the cafeteria. We didn’t play for money, but for points.
“Points for what?” I finally asked JonPaul as we were leaving the cafeteria.
“We’ve been playing together since sixth grade and that’s the way we’ve always done it,” he answered. “We add up the points we’ve won and lost at the end of every hand, and I keep track of our overall winnings in my notebook.” He held it up, like I’d never seen his ratty old notebook before.
“Yeah, I know, but don’t you think we could make things more interesting if we played for money?”
“We can’t bet money on school property.”
“We’ll play off school property, then.”
“You don’t have money,” he reminded me.
“I could do something about that.”
“Like what?”
“Start a poker game.”
“We have a poker game.”
JonPaul is a great friend, but he will never be business partner material. The poor guy doesn’t know how to think past the obvious to spot the potential the way I do. I’d thought it would be nice to be a team—me and JonPaul getting rich together. But I could already see that he’d be better off in a less ambitious position—more assistant than associate.
“Here’s my plan: I organize a weekly poker game, for money, with the guys, away from school. I always win because they’re terrible players, so that’s a great way
Similar Books
