Rich in Money, Poor in Everything Else

What happened when I worked for multi-millionaires

Published in

The Startup

9 min readApr 6, 2018

A few years ago I gave private music lessons to an 11-year-old. For the sake of her privacy, I’ll refer to her as Alessia.
What I learned by teaching her made an impact on my view of life.

Alessia was born into a very wealthy family. They lived in a big house in Hampstead (London, UK) with a live-in maid and nanny. They also had an apartment in Manhattan, NYC and a beach house in Bermuda. Her parents drove luxury cars — a Land Rover and a Rolls Royce. When her older sister turned 17, her parents bought her an Audi A3, even though she didn’t pass her driving test yet.

A different universe

I remember our first lesson. I arrived at Alessia’s home and was welcomed by the maid. As I walked in, I saw something I’ve never seen before —
never-ending space. It looked like a castle. In the entrance hall alone, there were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, shiny marble stairs with gold-plated railings, a grand piano, and exquisite art paintings. I was in awe. I have never seen so much wealth. It seemed like a dream. It was unreal. It was the ideal-life that I have heard so much about.
But somehow I couldn’t stop thinking about a homeless man I saw at the train station, earlier that day. It seemed like I was in a different universe, yet it was only three miles away from that train station.

I stood in the hall for a minute or two observing all the fine details of this magnificent house when Alessia’s mother showed up. She greeted me and introduced Alessia.
I couldn’t help but feel that she was trying to impress me. I don’t remember it all, but there was a lot of name-dropping as she spoke about a fund-raising event they hosted and a vacation they had in Asia. She also kept talking about her husband’s job (a chairman of some company). Alessia’s mother was used to wowing people. Her aim was to feel superior.
I was overwhelmed when she told me about a string-quartet who played a private concert for the family in one of their living rooms (they had three).

The maid showed Alessia and I into the main living room where we had our music lessons throughout the year.
Alessia was a typical 11-year-old. She was joyful, friendly, and easy going. She was shy at first, but soon opened up and started expressing her deep passion for music and dancing. She took ballet lessons and she loved singing.

Please say hello to my chocolatier

The following week, as I walked into the house, I smelled a sweet scent. Alessia’s mother invited me to the kitchen. It was bigger than the studio apartment I was living in, at the time. I noticed a young man in his 30s standing by the counter, mixing a bowl full of melted chocolate. “That can’t be Alessia’s father,” I thought. “Martin, please say hi to Saar, he is Alessia’s music teacher. Saar, this is Martin, our chocolatier.” I couldn’t quite believe it — they had their own chocolatier!

A few minutes later, the maid offered me a drink. “A glass of water would be nice, please,” I said. I felt uncomfortable. I don’t like being served by waiters in restaurants, so having a maid to look after my needs was awkward.
The maid came back. She held a silver tray and handed me a glass of water. “Is the water temperature okay?” she asked. I thought she was joking, but I soon realized she was waiting for my approval.
The living rooms’ walls were covered with impressionist art paintings. Alessia didn’t seem to care about it at all. She was more interested to hear about my songs and what it’s like to perform live on stage. I asked her whether she’d like to sing on a stage one day. Alessia nodded with a big smile.

It’s all been planned out

It was a few months later, I was about to ring the doorbell when I heard loud shoutings from inside: “You need to learn how to take responsibility! Grow up already and stop acting like a child!” It was Alessia’s mother’s voice. The shouting stopped as soon as I rang the doorbell.
Alessia was upset that lesson and I tried to cheer her up.
“When is the lesson over?” she asked. “Are you not having fun today?” I questioned “It’s not that. I’m busy and don’t have much time for music now.”
How can an 11-year-old girl be so busy, I wondered. “I have a lot of studying to do because my mother asked the teacher to give me extra homework,” she continued. “WHY?” I was amazed. “Well, I am applying for the best school in the country, so I need to prepare for the exam.”
“And what makes it the best school?” I asked. “I don’t know. But if I get accepted to this school, then I’ll have better chances of being accepted to Cambridge University,” Alessia said confidently. At that point, I couldn’t hold it anymore: “But you are only 11… you have almost a decade till you may or may not actually attend university.” Silence.
It was Alessia who was doing the talking, but it wasn’t her own words.
She just recited something she’s been told. It had nothing to do with her dreams of becoming a singer or a dancer, but she felt it was important.
I wanted to help her and tell her that life has so much more to offer —but I did not want to confuse her.
This cute little girl who sat in front of me had her childhood stolen.
It was terrible. Her whole life structure has been pre-planned.

A month before the end of the year, Alessia was doing her homework when I arrived. I asked her to stop so we can start our lesson. “This is really important,” she said. “Okay, but so is your music,” I replied. I was shocked when she said: “but music is just a hobby. This is something for my future.”
I felt offended. But I couldn’t accuse Alessia of being rude, though. She was only repeating the messages she heard at home. How can you expect a child to appreciate her music lessons when she’s being told that music is not valuable?I was awed by the hypocrisy of Alessia’s parents. They invite a string quartet to play in their living room , yet at the same time think that music isn’t a “real job”? It’s not only offensive, it is degrading!

How much do I owe you?

“Some of the most miserable people I know are some of the richest people in America, they are the most miserable individuals I’ve ever seen.” ~Chuck Norris

In over a year of teaching Alessia, I did not see her once joking with, not to mention hugging, her own mother. It seemed like their whole relationship was built on rewards for good studying and good exam marks.

One Sunday afternoon, Alessia was on cloud nine, smiling and springing around in her ballet outfit. She said that her dad came to see her perform.
It was the first time I met him. It seemed like he was trying his best to be nice, but he was too used to being the boss. Alessia’s father announced that he will be joining our lesson to oversee it.
At 8 PM, when the lesson ended, he showed me to the door. “I’m not usually home that early,” he said. “Oh, do you usually come home after 8 PM?” I asked. “Oh yes,” he responded with a big smile, “I usually work from 7 AM to 11 PM. I stay in a hotel room by the office, three nights a week.”
“Wow,” I replied honestly. He seemed pleased.
On the way back home, I tried to figure out why Alessia’s father was proud of the fact that he is never home. Surely, we are supposed to brag about how much free time we have instead of bragging about how close we are to being slaves. With the amount of money he has — he should be able to have as much free time as he wants. But maintaining his hard-working businessman reputation was the only thing that made him feel worthy.

Alessia’s mother would write me a check at the end of each month. “I don’t keep count on how much I owe you, so just tell me how much it is and I’ll pay you,” she would say every time. It sounded like she was either testing my honesty or trying to get me to overprice my services and lie.
On one occasion she handed me an envelope and said: “I’ve finished my checkbook today, so I’m paying you cash.” When I got home, I opened the envelope and noticed she paid me an extra £5 ($7). I felt like it was appropriate to let her know so I texted her. The following month she said: “How much is it? I don’t want to pay you an extra penny by my mistake!” and burst out laughing.

Then it hit me

“A rich man is nothing but a poor man with money.”
~W. C. Fields

The money didn’t matter to her. She had so much of it that even another million wouldn’t make a difference. She was searching for superiority and respect. She was trying to maintain her rich person’s reputation.
She was rich in money, but poor in everything else.

This revelation was a sad moment for me. I wasn’t appalled by Alessia’s parents’ behavior anymore. I felt sorry for them.
But mostly, I felt sorry for Alessia because I knew she was destined for that same life. No one has ever given her any tools for life, apart from tools of how to be rich in money.
Living in a fancy house, having the newest toys and attending the best school in the country — none of it provided Alessia with any joy or meaning.
All her parents’ money, jobs, reputation, titles, and possessions were worthless. They were barely home to enjoy those things. And even when they were home — they didn’t understand the concept of enjoyment. It was a house full of emptiness and loneliness.

We all need to have a meaning. If we neglect ourselves for too long by chasing fake ideals — we end up with emptiness.

Think of Alessia

“Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me. Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful, that’s what matters to me.” ~Steve Jobs

The truth is — no money in the world can make you rich in manners, rich in relationships, have a rich family life, rich in values… Rich in you.
No money in the world can buy you even a fraction of self-love or self-awareness. And most importantly — no money in the world can take you a step further in your self-fulfillment journey. In fact, it is more likely to take you a step backward.

So next time you find yourself feeding the fake-ideal monster, chasing money as if it was an addictive game you just had to win — please stop.
Stop and ask yourself — is this bringing me any closer to achieving my goals? Does it give me any meaning? Does it help me on my self-fulfillment journey? Is it contributing to my awareness?

Next time money seems to be the final answer to all your worries and concerns— stop and think. Think of Alessia.

Clap along if you feel like that’s what you want to do 👏

Thanks for reading! Please follow me for more posts.