Story 1: Two-Year-Old Gardening
Since as far back as I can remember, I have always had an affinity for plants — any plants.
The way that their existence seems so silent and sincere. The way they gradually grow up with very little pain or hassle. And even the way they silently pass away without the slightest hint of complain or sorrow.
I was — in essence — a plant admirer (if there is such a thing) from a very young age.
One day (probably at the age of around two), I remember walking around the garden alone while carrying my juice box. It was a box of orange juice (my favorite juice, you see).
As I was pacing back and forth (presumably envisioning and philosophizing upon my future), I remember coming up with an ingenious idea.
I thought to myself: I love orange juice. If I share this juice with this small tree, it will probably make it grow a lot faster.
So I took out the straw from the box and confidently threw it away behind me (effectively littering on my own backyard) so that I could squeeze out the orange juice to the base of this tree through the straw hole.
I crouched down and squeezed out about half of the orange juice from inside the box, thinking: That should be enough.
I stared at the small tree and waited for about 20 seconds — but nothing happened.
The tree did not grow faster like I had expected.
Huh… — I thought. Maybe it just wants more orange juice. Then it will grow faster.
So I crouched down again and proceeded to squeeze out the rest of the juice to the base of the tree.
I distinctly remember crumpling the box with my two hands — squeezing out every last drop of orange juice with all the mighty force that my two-year-old forearms can possibly muster.
After performing such an effortful and selfless act of OJ altruism, I remember feeling immensely proud of myself.
If I had known what a Nobel Prize was, I would have surely felt that I deserved one.
There… — I whispered with a confident grin on my face. That’s a lot of delicious orange juice. Now you can grow much — much faster.
But after staring at the tree for about 30 more seconds, still — nothing happened.
Fast forward 30 years later, I am now a 32-year-old man with a much taller posture and much wiser demeanor.
Looking back, it is funny how gullible and silly I was. How innocently ignorant a two-year-old’s mind can be.
Of course orange juice was not going to make the tree grow any faster.
I now know that I should have poured chocolate milk instead.
Chocolate milk is way tastier than orange juice.
Story 2: The Boy and His Money
A few years ago, I was talking to a six-year-old boy who had just received his allowance from his parents.
He was carrying five notes of IDR2,000 (two thousand Indonesian Rupiah) each. Thus, his total cash net worth at the time was presumably IDR10,000.
He took out his five notes and proudly showed them off in front of me whilst saying: “I’m rich! Haa-Haa-Haa! (evil laugh)”
To put him on his place, I proudly took out a crisp and clean IDR100,000 note and showed it in front of his face.
“This is worth one hundred thousand Rupiah…” — I told him. “This one piece of paper is ten times more valuable than your five pieces of paper put together!”
He looked at my one piece of paper with intense confusion.
He then stared at my face with suspicion — as if he didn’t believe what I just told him.
He completely ignored what I said and proudly stated “Yea but I have five, you only have one! Haaa-Haaa-Haaa! (evil laugh)”
He then proceeded to walk away with a sway and swagger of a Monégasque multi-billionaire — leaving me standing all alone with my supposedly ‘special’ piece of paper.
Upon him walking away — I delved deeper into what the boy had just told me.
Who was richer? Me with my IDR100,000 — or him with his IDR10,000?
I remember being his age and loving to eat this local brand of chocolate bar called Beng-Beng — which was probably worth around IDR2,000 each back then.
That chocolate bar would truly make my day as a six-year-old. I remember lighting up every time I received that chocolate bar from one of my parents or older brother.
This is so great! — I thought as a six-year-old. I get to enjoy this chocolate again, how exciting!
Going back to my older self-carrying that IDR100,000 note; I realized that the boy was right.
What he could buy with his IDR10,000 would give him much more enjoyment than anything I could possibly afford with my IDR100,000.
So, by that standard — who was richer? Me or him?
Arguably — him.
The lesson he unknowingly taught me was this: Money should be measured by how much pleasure and joy it provides you — not merely by the number that is printed on the piece of paper.
A ten-year-old with $10 can very often buy himself more joy than a 50-year-old with $100,000.
Who knew such deep financial wisdom can be learned from a six-year-old boy with an evil laugh.