I once equated success with money alone. There was no substitute nor scruples about where the money came from. In my neighborhood, we all revered the well-dressed gangster in the shiny Cadillac without regard to how he acquired the big wad of cash he flashed about. In fact, he was a role model.  We didn't know anyone making big money on Wall Street or corporate America.  The only "entrepreneurs" we knew were as poor as we were: Mr. Morelli, with the shoe repair shop, and Mr.Jahn, the deli owner, lived on the same block we did, and their kids wore hand-me-downs just like the rest of us. The Sharkskin suit in the caddy was the only rich guy we knew, and we longed for what we thought he had.

Equating money alone with success is a natural byproduct of growing up poor.  My Dad was obsessed with money. I remember sitting at the dinner table with Dad, telling us about an enormously wealthy dentist he met.  Looking at my brother and me intensely, he said, "You should be a dentist."  We were probably 10 and 8 at the time.  My brother, with disgust, said, "Dad, I don't want to put my hands in anyone's mouth!" Dad replied, "For 100 grand a year, I'd stick my whole arm down your throat."

 There were many other ways my Dad taught us that money was everything. 

"What am I made of money?"  If I had his money, I'd burn mine."  "You think money grows on trees?" "Turn off the lights. What am I in partnership with Con Ed?" "You thirsty? Drink water.  Milk costs money." And on and on it went.  I was pretty sure I was a failure unless I could afford high-end cars, expensive vacations, and fancy restaurants.  This thinking polluted me so much that I bought those things – on credit – when I could not afford them. Talk about misguided!  I had no clue where my true north was.

I worked hard and was blessed with opportunities that allowed me to acquire some of the luxuries my father only dreamed about, but only when money became an oblique goal. Becoming a better human became my primary goal; striving for that created fertile ground that allowed me to make a few pesos.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I set earnings, debt reduction, and business goals and worked hard to achieve them, but they were part of an overall system of setting out to develop me as a man.  As it turns out, that personal development yielded the byproduct of a person who brought enough value to the marketplace to be paid better than my father (or I) ever imagined I could. The personal development route I pursued helped me in my business so that improving as a person was inextricably knotted to better success in business. I was fortunate to do well, but again, my success is the family that surrounds me, the friendships I treasure, and the good health I am blessed with. Doing OK financially is a part of that success, but it is not the definition of success.

Two of the most successful people I have ever met are a history teacher and a letter carrier.  The teacher was consistently voted the favorite by his students and the best by his peers.  His principal and district awarded him for outstanding results. I interviewed him once and found him passionate about teaching and dedicated to his students. He had the demeanor of a happy, successful, fulfilled person.

 Jimmy-The-Mailman is beloved by his customers.  When he delivered the mail, they left cold water and hot chocolate on days when those things were a Godsend to someone working outdoors.  They invited him to family events and tipped him lavishly during the holidays.  They offered him jobs, connections, and their friendship. Five years after his retirement, Jimmy can't go anywhere around the neighborhood he walked for thirty years without being stopped multiple times with smiles, hugs, and well-wishes.

The teacher and the mailman had close-knit families with whom they spent a lot of time and friends they loved and could rely on.

Neither of those two people had any disposable income to speak of. Neither was what we consider "rich," but just like the toast given at the end of It's a Wonderful Life, they were, for my money, "The Richest Men in Town."

Own Your Sales Gene…