The first thing Kyle and I discovered when we got to Mexico was that the resort looked nothing like the brochure. The pool was drained, the rooms were full of roaches, and the so-called club was a dingy bar.
Kyle thought this was hilarious. “If we’re stuck in some hole-in-the-wall fishing village, we might as well fish.”
We went down to the dock and found a boat with a sign that read Fishing Charters.
An old man stepped out of the boat’s cabin. “You boys looking to catch some fish?” He adjusted a ratty, old baseball cap to block out the bright morning light. “If so, you’ve come to the right place.”
“You’re no Mexican,” Kyle said.
“And you’re not Japanese, but if you’re looking to fish, we can talk business. Name’s Luther,” he stuck out a thick hand, “born and bred in Mississippi if it matters to you. Same Gulf, different coast, so I reckon I’ve been fishing these waters all my life.” He looked the two of us over. “Now, you boys want to listen to an old man ramble, or do you want to fish?”
His boat was old but immaculate. We negotiated a rate, hopped on, and in five minutes, Luther had us on the water. Half an hour later, he pulled into a deserted cove. “Careful not to put your hands in the water,” he said. “The fish bite so hard out here, they’ll take your fingers off at the knuckles. Let’s get you boys hooked up with some rods and bait.”
Luther pulled out a pale white fish that wrangled in his hands. Kyle grimaced. “What is that?”
“Pucker up, boys and say hello to Miss Ruby Red Lips.” Luther pulled open the fish’s mouth, being careful not to get bitten, to show the crimson interior. “She’s our secret weapon for catching Gulf Snapper.”
“You don’t use worms?” Kyle asked.
“You want a worm, Kyle? I’ll give you a worm. Just don’t be disappointed when Dylan and I bring in the big game, and you’re left with squat. The first thing to know with fishing, as with life, is what game you’re going after. Only then can you choose the right location and bait.”
“In fishing and with life, eh?” Kyle sent a wink in my direction, clearly amused at the idea of this old, hick fisherman viewing himself as a sage. “I guess fishing leaves you plenty of time for philosophizing?”
“True, but it’s hard to keep up my boat on a philosopher’s salary. So it’s good to know something about money as well.”
Kyle sent me another wink. Now the old hick was a money expert too? “So what game are you going after?”
“In life?” Luther stuck a hook through Miss Ruby Red Lips’ back, just ahead of the dorsal fin. “That’s easy. I’m aiming to be The Old Man and the Sea part II, though this time with a happy ending. I plan to spend as many days fishing the ocean and as many nights in bed with my wife as I can muster.”
“Sounds like a lovely goal for you.” Kyle rolled up his sleeves. “But I’m guessing your wife is hardly my type.”
“Too bad, Kyle; she’d whip your snarky ass into shape fast.” Luther cast the rod and handed it to Kyle. “But life goals are as unique as we are. I’m afraid you’ve got to find one of your own.”
“Can’t you say that about all goals?” I asked.
“‘Fraid not, Dylan. Take financial goals. As far as I can see, 99% of people ought to have the same goal. At least initially. Old Luther’s no commie; I have no problem with you going farther once you hit it.”
“Let me guess,” Kyle said, “you think that goal should be to buy a boat?”
“You could do a fair lot worse than own a boat, Kyle. But no, the waters are crowded enough without every landlubbing idiot coming out here to disturb my peace. Your goal should be financial independence.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Luther shook his head. “You know, it’s amazing. 80% of what you learned in high school, and at least that much of what you’re getting in college, you’ll never use again. Never understood why they don’t deep-six all that crap and teach you kids financial literacy.” Luther leaned over the side of the boat and hauled in a floating beer can. “Stupid tourists.”
“What’s financial independence?” I asked again.
Kyle nudged me. “That’s what they call people who are so rich they never need to work again.”
“It has nothing to do with riches, Kyle.” He dug a hook into another Ruby Red Lips and cast it into the water. “Even a simple fisherman like me can get financially independent if he knows what he’s doing.”
“You’re financially independent?” Kyle asked.
“That’s right.” Luther tipped his hat at Kyle. “I hang up my sign and take a few charters for variety and a little extra pocket change, but I don’t need to work another day in my life.”
“I’m guessing that’s only because you live in some Mexican backwater.”
“You’re not far off, Kyle. Old Luther may look like a crazy old fisherman, but I’m not down here by accident. Wasn’t that many years ago that I had a job, and when I got my two weeks’ vacation each year, you know what I’d do?”
“Let me guess,” Kyle said, “you’d fish.”
“Smart boy. I used to think I’d retire someplace near the water where I could fish all the time.” Luther stared off into the distance, as though watching a movie. “Then, my friend Buzz told me I was thinking about life all wrong. I shouldn’t ask what I’d do when I retire. I ought to ask myself what I’d do if I knew I could never retire. The answer hit me like a lightning bolt.”
“You’d fish?” I asked.
“Righto. So why was I working fifty weeks a year so I could fish for two?” Luther passed me the second rod, and his hands grew animated. “I began putting Buzz’s advice into motion, and within two years, I was able to quit my job, move down here, and get myself a small boat.”
“You call this boat small?” Kyle asked.
“I’m talking about four boats ago, when I started. I keep trading up as my financial position grows stronger.”
“And how is that happening? Let me guess, you’re probably using this old boat to run drugs or shuttle illegals over the border.” Kyle winked at Luther. “Smart move hiding out here in some podunk fishing village.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Kyle,” Luther said, “but I like to keep my hands clean.”
“Not from fish guts, you don’t.” Kyle waved his hand in front of his face to ward off the stink of the boat.
“Shut up, Kyle,” I said. ”Seriously, Luther, how’d you do it?”
“You might not guess looking at me, boys, but old Luther wasn’t born into riches. Nor did I have some Wall Street job where I could run off with a hundred million after a couple of years buying and selling. Before implementing Buzz’s advice, I had nothing but my PWA.”
“PWA?” Kyle asked.
“My Poor White Ass.”
Kyle wasn’t wrong about the smell of fish guts, but if what Luther said was true, there was more to him than we could see. “You went from nothing to retired in two years?”
“That’s right, Dylan. Buzz taught me the secret to lifelong wealth, and I’ve used that to sustain myself ever since.”
I felt a sharp tug on my line. I leaned back hard and reeled it in. But the fight didn’t last long. The line came in light and easy, and the hook came out of the water clean.
Kyle popped open a beer. “Let it go, Dylan. ‘This guy’s just toying with you like that fish that stole your bait. Can’t you see he’s just stringing us along but not saying a thing?”
“Not true, not true.” Luther gave a scout’s salute. “I’m honor-bound to tell any who want to listen.”
“How are you bound?” I asked.
Luther grabbed my hook and dug it into another live bait fish. “That was one of Buzz’s conditions for telling me. I give the same two conditions to everyone I teach.”
I recast my line. “Why do you have conditions?”
“The world doesn’t need another taker. If I’m going to teach you the tools of acquiring wealth, it’s to turn you into a giver.”
Kyle leaned into me. “You know what they say: If you give a man a fish…”
I pushed Kyle back. “What are these conditions?”
“Number one is charity.” He held out a stubby finger. “You must agree to give 10% of your after-tax income away to others in need.”
“That’s once I become financially independent, right?” I asked.
“That starts now. Giving is like a muscle; you need to build it over time. A man who won’t give ten cents on a dollar won’t give a hundred thousand on a million.”
Something inside me tightened. Kyle asked, “What if I need the money to live on?”
“Give anyway. When you give while you’re still poor, even though it hurts, you’ll come to know the power of charity in your bones. You’ll understand you’re not just building wealth for your greedy little self; you’ll see that the more you earn, the more you can contribute.”
I hadn’t the slightest clue what Luther meant about the power of charity. If anything, charity seemed like giving power away. It was a noble thing to do, I supposed, and all well and good for those who had excess cash, but powerful? “What’s the second condition?”
Another thick finger went up. “You must teach others what you learn. Knowledge, like money, is not meant to be hoarded.”
Kyle took another swig of his beer. “OK, let’s hear this big secret already.”
Luther shoved his two fingers into Kyle’s chest. “You agree to my conditions?”
“We haven’t heard what you’re going to say yet.” Kyle pushed Luther’s fingers away. “I’m not going to agree to give away 10% of my money for life when I don’t even know if I’ll take the advice.”
“The conditions only apply if you accept the path I lay before you. And Kyle, you have nothing to worry about,” Luther patted Kyle on the back, “you’re not going to follow my advice anyway.”
Kyle squared his shoulders. “How do you know?”
“Two giveaways.” Luther tugged on Kyle’s Polo shirt. “One, I see from the way you’re dressed that you’ve got a love for the finer things in life. You’re not going to want to give that up.”
Kyle wiped his shirt where Luther had touched him. “Why should I have to? I thought this was the path to riches?”
“All great accomplishments require sacrifice. You won’t be willing to pay the price.”
“And the second reason?”
Luther grabbed himself a rod. “You think I’m a crazy old man.”
“Nah, I don’t think you’re so old.”
“You’ve got a sharp tongue, Kyle. I like you.” Luther hooked yet another Ruby Red Lips. “That’s why I haven’t thrown you off my boat.”
“If we’re not going to listen, why are you wasting our time?”
“I’m not saying it for your sake, fool.” Luther cast his line in the water. “I’m saying this for Dylan.” The old fisherman peered into my eyes. “He’s quiet, but deep. Like the ocean. I reckon he mulls over what he hears. An acorn planted in that soil might take root.”
“Being quiet doesn’t mean he’ll listen to crazy.” Kyle laughed, then went silent when he caught my gaze.
“I want to hear,” I said. “Luther, I give you my word on your conditions. What’s your secret?”
“Spend less than you make and invest the difference.”
Kyle laughed so hard, beer sprayed out of his mouth. “That’s it? Any idiot knows you should spend less than you make.”
“Any idiot knows it, but not every idiot lives it.” Luther cranked his reel. “Take you two idiots, for example. You’re on a two-hundred-dollar boat charter right now, and I’m guessing neither of you makes a bent nickel.”
“We worked all summer painting houses,” I said.
“I see.” One of Luther’s brows went up. “You’re still living off this painting money all these months later?”
“More or less.” I squirmed. “We don’t have so many expenses, but that money’s covered beer all semester, and what’s left over paid for this trip.”
“I see. So both of you boys are on full scholarships?”
“What, you mean tuition?” My line grew taut again, and my back stiffened. “That’s different; that’s for school.”
“Oh, silly me, I hadn’t realized tuition was a different category.” He pointed to my rod. “Keep it steady. There now. Hold your grip tight and slowly reel in the line, so the fish doesn’t even notice you’re bringing him home.”
I reeled in, my rod getting more and more bent as I worked.
Luther turned to Kyle. “Fine, let’s put tuition aside. Now, I expect both you boys are living at home to save on housing?”
“We’re in the dorms for now,” I said. “Next semester, we’re moving into the fraternity.”
“Oh, a fraternity. Fraternities are great because they’re usually in nice, big houses, and big houses have great big kitchens. That’ll allow you to save money by cooking your own food, right?” The fish broke the surface twenty feet from the boat.
“I know you’re just trying to wind us up, old man,” Kyle said, “but I’ll play along. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, we’re both on the school meal plan. Like tuition and housing, meals just get rolled into our student loans.”
“Of course, student loans. No problem then.” Luther leaned over the side of the boat with his hand net and scooped up the fish. He pulled it off the hook and threw it back into the water. “Afraid that one’s too small to keep.”
I looked down at my now empty hook. “You don’t have a problem with student loans, do you?”
“Certainly not, Dylan. It was just a temporary lapse of memory on my part. I’m afraid it happens more often as we age.” He set me up with another Ruby Red Lips. “You see, boys, I’d forgotten you paid off student loans with fairy dust and not real money.”
“You’re real funny, you know that, Luther?” Kyle reeled in his line to check if his bait was still on the hook. “Sitting on this boat all day must leave you plenty of time to think up jokes.”
“You want to hear a real funny joke, Kyle?” Luther popped himself a beer. “Student loans aren’t like other debt: they’re exempt from bankruptcy law.”
“What does that mean?” I cast my line back into the water, further this time.
“Bankruptcy gives protection from debt. So if you ring up crazy high credit card bills and then go bankrupt, much of that debt goes away. Not student loans.” He held up his beer as if toasting the debt gods. “Those are yours until paid off, or for life, whichever ends first. The real tragedy is that they’re being accrued by kids who have no concept of what they’ll be able to earn with those fancy diplomas.”
Kyle gripped his rod with both hands. Something was biting, that was for sure. “Wait,” he said, straining. “Are you saying we shouldn’t be in school?”
“What I’m saying right now is that despite your assertion that any idiot knows to spend less than he makes, you two are spending a fortune and making squat.”
“That’s just the price you pay for being in school,” I said.
“Oh?” Luther locked his rod in the gunwale so he could stand behind Kyle. “Are there no ways to be in school without paying that price?”
“I guess I could have gone to the local school and lived at home.” I shrugged. “But the education wouldn’t have been the same.”
Luther wiped his brow with his sleeve. “And is school such a given that there are no alternatives?”
Kyle tried bringing in his line, but whatever monster was on the other side wasn’t coming up easy. Luther grabbed onto the rod, and the two of them grunted as they pulled. “Don’t try to fight him. When he swims toward us, reel it in quick. When he swims away, just try to hold on.” The line went loose, and Kyle reeled it in as fast as he could. “Now, this is fishing! You couldn’t learn a real skill like this in some ivory tower—I can tell you that.”
The fish swam away from the boat, and Kyle hung on for dear life. “The point of the degree is to help us make a living.”
“If you stopped and ran the numbers, I think you’d be surprised. A guy who becomes a plumber right out of high school and manages his money well will slaughter just about any doctor who went through school on loans.”
“Slaughter, how?” I asked. “In income?”
“It’s not what you make that counts—it’s what you keep.” Kyle and Luther fell back as the line suddenly went loose. The remaining line billowed up on the rod. “Well, I’ll be. He didn’t just take our bait; he made off with our entire hook.”
“You’re saying the plumber will keep more?” I asked.
Luther pulled out his tackle box to find a new hook for Kyle’s rod. “Compare their assets at age 65, and you’ll see it’s not even close.”
“The plumber’s still stuck fixing toilets.” Kyle leaned back against the gunwale. With no rod, there wasn’t anything for him to do. “You got something to eat?”
Luther jerked his head to a small cooler near my feet. “Actually, Kyle, a plumber who knows how to handle money can retire before the doctor even finishes residency.”
I pulled out two sandwiches, keeping one for myself and tossing the other to Kyle. “That can’t be true.”
“Of course, it’s not.” Bits of tuna flew out of Kyle’s mouth as he spoke. “Even if it is, who cares? Most pre-med guys I know have dreamed of being doctors since they were kids. They should give up saving lives for a few more dollars in the bank? Or so they can retire early by living in some Mexican backwater where tacos are five for a dollar?”
“If you’ve got a dream to be a doctor, you fully understand the costs, and you’re willing to pay the price, then more power to you. Old Luther’s in the business of making dreams a reality, not squashing them out. Me, my passion is fishing.” He held up the newly tied hook with pride. “But guys with a mission at your age are the exception.”
“Yeah?” Kyle said. “What’s the rule?”
“You studs are. You’re in school because you think you ought to be, even though you have only vague ideas of where it will take you. While you’re figuring it out, you’re amassing mountains of debt.”
The two of us fell silent for the first time that day. Luther said, “How much are you going to rack up in loans for undergrad, Kyle?”
“I have a partial tuition grant, so that’s not too bad, but room and board is all on loans. I’ll probably have $125,000 in debt when I get out.”
“Then grad school?”
Kyle chomped the last of his sandwich. “Probably another $125,000.”
“Better than some. Had a guy on my boat last month who was over $400,000 in the hole by the time he finished his law degree. But $250,000 is hardly peanuts. You realize your parents probably spent less than that on their first house? You know how long the bank gave them to pay it off?”
I swallowed hard. “How long?”
“30 years. All that time, the interest continues to accrue. That $250,000 will cost you almost twice that to pay off. And that’s with post-tax money. Pre-tax, you’ll have to earn the better part of a million dollars just to cover your school loans.”
Kyle waved him off. “But I’ll be making so much more.”
“Perhaps, but most don’t make enough to compensate. It’s like this fishing trip. You’re enjoying yourselves, but you could have done more valuable things with your time.”
My rod bent so far, I thought it was going to snap in two. I cranked the reel, but it barely moved. “Luther,” I grunted.
The fisherman wrapped his hands around mine and took over the reel. I was kind of embarrassed, but mostly relieved. My back and shoulders were burning. “All that time sitting in a classroom has made you wimpy, boy. Some real man’s work might do you good.”
“So that’s your thing, old man,” Kyle said. “People shouldn’t go to school?”
“Actually, I’m a huge believer in education. I just can’t stand the way most of you kids are doing it these days, like it’s some rite of passage.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that the majority of you will never work in your field of study, and almost half of you will take jobs that don’t even require degrees. Meanwhile, you’re burning through valuable years and racking up crazy amounts of debt.”
“Degrees open doors.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “I’m never going to get a job at Skadden Arps if I’m just a dropout who smells of fish guts.”
“Only a small percent of you college kids ever get high paying jobs like that.” He turned the reel a couple more times, and a massive pink fish slipped out of the water, thrashing in every direction. “But who knows? Maybe you’ll be lucky. If so, I hope you enjoy that work as much as you think you will, because you’re going to be stuck there.”
“What does that mean?”
“What if the job isn’t all you thought it would be?” Luther grabbed a net. “What if at age 25, you suddenly realize what you were meant to do with your life?”
“So I’d switch tracks, no big deal.”
“Oh, really? You’d just switch?” Luther leaned over the side of the boat and netted the fish. “And what if your dream doesn’t pay as well as corporate law? What if it pays enough to get by, but not enough to live on and keep up with your loan payments?”
“Then, I guess…” But Kyle’s voice trailed off. Even he didn’t have an answer to this one.
“Beauty. That’s a blackfin snapper. A twenty pounder, I’d say. We’ll be eating well tonight.” Luther carried the fish onto the boat. “Fact is, Kyle, debt is a dream killer. You may think that the high-paying job you’re going after is some prize. But it’s a prison sentence. Once you’re in it, you’re going to have an awfully hard time getting out. Especially after you start getting used to the lifestyle.”
“Actually, old man, I can’t wait to get used to the lifestyle.” Kyle popped another beer, put his feet up on the gunwale, and checked out of the conversation.
The next morning, while Kyle slept off the beers from the night before, I went down to the docks to talk to Luther alone.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my young collegiate. I figured you’d be sick of fish by now, with all you ate last night.”
I rubbed my swollen belly. “Quite sick of it.”
“You sure?” Luther offered a mischievous grin. “The Mrs. made some mighty fine fish balls from the leftovers.”
“Positive. I came down to talk to you, actually.”
Luther patted my back. “Let me guess, you want to learn more about money?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You ever waxed a car?”
“Yeah, so?”
I waited for Luther to give me the analogy between money and waxing a car, but instead, he gave me a rag and a jar of wax. “I’ll tell you all you need to know while you polish the rails to a bright shine.”
Considering how much I’d paid him the day before, I didn’t see why I had to work to get my questions answered, but I did what he said without protest. As soon as I started working, Luther kept his word and began what would be the first of many of our cash chats, as he liked to call them. “I’m going to make it real simple for you, Dylan. Tell me, when you get this big career of yours off the ground, how many hours do you expect to be working per week?”
I opened the jar of hard wax. “If I go to work for a big law firm like I’m thinking, then probably sixty or so.”
Luther filled a bucket with soapy water, picked up a scrub brush, and hopped on the boat. “So how many hours will you work in your career?”
I started working the railing on the far side of the boat, rubbing hard as I did the math in my head. 60 hours a week times 50 weeks a year made 3000 hours a year. I’d start after law school, so I’d be around 25, and I’d probably work until I was 70 or so, like my grandfather. That would be 45 years. “135,000 hours?” Was I really going to be working that much?
“Not a small number, is it?” Luther fit a long handle onto his brush and scrubbed the boat floor. “Tell me, how many hours do you plan to spend learning about money?”
I rubbed the rag into the wax. “What kind of learning?”
“You know, how to spend it, how to invest it. Tax strategies. How to keep more of what you earn in your pocket?”
I shrugged.
“Did you take calculus in high school?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me three ways the calculus you learned is relevant to your life?”
“Truthfully, I hardly remember any of it.” I smeared the wax onto the near railing and worked it until it shone.
“And it’s been what, six months since you graduated? That, my friend,” Luther slammed down his brush and suds flew into the air, “is a waste. Let me guess, your high school didn’t even have a class on the practicalities of money, did it?”
My high school didn’t teach the practicalities of anything. “Not that I know.”
“I bet your fancy college has thousands of classes on Greek literature, gender studies, and other equally impractical crap, but I bet they don’t have one class on the practicalities of money either, do they?”
The muscles in my shoulder were starting to burn from the effort. “I mean, there’s a whole economics department.”
“I’m not talking about all that micro-macro theory crap.” Luther hosed off the suds, which drained to the back of the boat. “I’m talking about how to spend your hard-earned dollars and cents to make sure you’re not some corporate slave all your life.”
“It’s not slavery.” I stood straight, stretching my back. “My Dad’s worked for Hillord since I was a kid, and he’s getting paid.”
“And what would happen if he got fired tomorrow?” Luther paused to wait for my response, but I didn’t know what to say, so he pushed further. “Does he have investments to fall back on, or would your parents quickly find themselves in the hole?”
“He could always find himself another job, I suppose.”
“I’d hope so, but still, he’s a slave to having to work. I only work how and when I choose to.”
“Kyle might think you’re some kook, Luther, but I’m not fooled by the whole hick routine. You’re a lot sharper than you let on. But you’ve got to understand that those who don’t grasp money concepts the way you do will still need to work to provide for their families.”
“It’s not about brains, Dylan, it’s about discipline.” Luther turned off the hose and pointed it at me. “You can be the dumbest peanut in the turd and become financially independent. Speaking of discipline, how ‘bout you show me you can talk and wax at the same time?”
I got back to polishing the rail.
“Look, kid, I’m sure your dad works hard to take care of y’all. But the truth is, just like your parents, you collegiates trust that your degrees will provide, then you stick your heads in the sand and ignore the very finances that make up your future.”
“What would you have us do?”
“Learn, dammit!” Luther stepped back on the dock and rolled up the hose. “I’ll make you this promise, Dylan. Remember those 135,000 hours you’re planning on working? If you spend 1% of those hours learning about money, you’ll be able to eliminate 80% of ‘em entirely.”
“You think I’d make that much more?”
“It’s not about making more.” Luther sat down on the now gleaming gunwale. “It’s about making your money work for you rather than you working for it.”
Kyle came jogging over. “Thought I might find you here. Didn’t get enough crazy talk in one day?”
I looked down to see that my shirt was soaked with sweat, but it was so hot, I didn’t care. “Luther made some interesting points.”
“That’s the beauty of crackpots like Luther. They may not make a lot of sense, but you can’t deny they’re interesting. Come on, let’s go. Daylight’s wasting and the kayaks we’ve rented aren’t going to paddle themselves.”
Dylan paused in his story, and I lifted myself onto my elbow to face him. “What happened next?”
“We went kayaking, just like we’d planned. But the few bucks we spent on kayak rentals weighed on me like no other expense ever had. For the first time, I wondered if this was a poor use of my money. Was I being stupid blowing the little cash I had at a time in my life when I was already racking up massive debt?”
“So what’d you do?”
“Each morning, I went back to talk to Luther while Kyle slept.” Dylan tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear.
“This is the man who changed your fortunes? This guy sounds like a kook.”
“Yeah, he comes across as kooky, but that’s just his shtick. That kook kept putting me to work, but it was the cheapest education I’d ever had, so I did whatever he asked.
“How could you be sure he was right?”
“I’m no fool. I checked up some of the stuff he said online. But most of it just required a bit of applied logic and basic arithmetic. The more I thought about what he said, the more it made sense.”
“And you still think that, even after everything that’s happened?”
“More so than ever.”
