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CHAPTER TWO

In which the young man meets

an elderly gardener

THE YOUNG MAN SPED OFF toward the Instant Millionaire’s town, his mind racing faster than his automobile. How hard was it going to be to meet this man? Would he welcome an unannounced visi-tor? Would he reveal his secret method of getting rich?

Just as he approached the millionaire’s house, he was overcome by curiosity and, despite his uncle’s words of warning, opened the letter of introduction. He was shocked. His heart rate climbed and he broke into a sweat. He wondered whether his uncle had made a mistake or was playing a joke on him, because the “letter” was only a blank sheet of paper!

He was now at the gate of the millionaire’s house and noticed a security guard. The guard had a stony expression; he looked as impenetrable as the enclosed fortress he was protecting.

“What can I do for you?” the guard asked drily.

“I’d like to meet the Instant Millionaire.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but…”

“Well then, do you have a letter of introduction?”

The young man pulled the letter halfway out of his pocket and quickly stuffed it back in again.

“May I see your letter,” the guard pressed.

The young man remembered his uncle’s words, “If you open the letter, you must pretend that you haven’t.” He handed the letter to the guard, who “read” it. His face remained totally expressionless.

“Fine,” he said, as he gave the letter back to the young man. “You may come in.” The guard showed him where to park and led him to the front door of the millionaire’s luxurious, Tudor-style home. An impeccably dressed butler opened the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I want to meet the Instant Millionaire.”

“He’s unable to see you at the moment. Please wait for him in the garden.” The butler accompanied the young man to the entrance of a garden with a glistening pond in the middle of it. He wandered in, admiring the beautiful flowers, bushes, and trees, and then he caught sight of a gardener who was bent over a rose bush. He must have been well into his seventies or eighties, and he wore a wide-brimmed straw hat that concealed his eyes.

When the young man approached him, the gardener broke off his work and welcomed him with a smile. He had bright, cheerful blue eyes.

“What have you come here for?” he asked in a warm and friendly voice.

“I’ve come to meet the Instant Millionaire.”

“Oh, I see. And for what reason, if you don’t mind my asking?” “Well, I . . . I’d simply like to ask him for advice. . . .” The gardener started to go back to his roses, then he stopped and turned. “Oh, by the way, you wouldn’t have ten dollars on you, would you?” “Ten dollars?” said the young man, blushing. “It’s just that…that’s all I’ve got left on me.” “Perfect. That’s all I need.”

The gardener looked very dignified. His manner exuded exceptional grace and charm.

“I’d really like to give it to you,” replied the young man, “but the problem is I wouldn’t have any money left to get back home.” “Are you planning on going home today?”

“No-o-o. . . I mean, I’ve no idea,” said the young man, now quite confused. “I don’t want to leave until I’ve seen the Instant Millionaire.” “But if you don’t need the money today, why are you so reluctant to lend it to me? You might not need it tomorrow. Who knows? You might be a millionaire.” The reasoning didn’t sound completely logical to the young man, but he handed him the money. The gardener smiled.

“Most people are afraid of asking for things, and when they finally do, they don’t insist enough. That’s a mistake.” At that moment the butler arrived in the garden and spoke to the old man respectfully. “Sir, could you please let me have ten dollars? The cook’s leaving today and insists on being paid. I’m just ten dollars short.” The gardener stuck his hand into his baggy pocket and pulled out a huge roll of bills. He must have had thousands of dollars in cash on him, because the young man caught sight of nothing but hundred-dollar bills, except for the ten-dollar bill on top. The gardener peeled off the bill he had just borrowed from the young man and handed it to the butler, who thanked him, bowed somewhat obsequiously, and quickly disappeared into the house.

The young man was outraged. How did the gardener have the gall to confiscate the last ten dollars he had in the world when his pockets were stuffed with more cash than he had ever seen?

“Why did you ask me for ten dollars?” he said, trying as hard as he could to conceal the rage he felt. “You didn’t need it!” “But of course I did. Look, I don’t have any ten-dollar bills,” he said, thumbing through the fat roll of cash. “You don’t think I was going to give him a hundred, do you?” “Why on earth do you keep so much money on you?”

“It’s my pocket money,” replied the gardener. “I always keep $25,000 on me in case of an emergency.” “Uh . . . $25,000?” sputtered the young man, aghast.

Suddenly everything became clear: the ever-polite butler, that incredible amount of pocket money . . .

“You’re the Instant Millionaire, aren’t you?”

“For the time being,” replied the gardener. “I’m glad you’ve come.

“But tell me, how is it that you aren’t rich yet? Have you ever seriously asked yourself that question?” “Not really.”

“Well, that’s probably the first thing you should do. Think aloud in front of me, if you want. I’ll try to follow your line of reasoning.” The young man made a few feeble attempts and then gave up.

“I see,” said the millionaire. “You’re not used to thinking out loud. Do you know there are lots of young people your age who are already rich? Some are even millionaires. Others are just on the verge of getting their first million. Did you know that when he was twenty-six, Aristotle Onassis already had $500,000 in the bank when he left for England, where he was planning to set up his shipping empire?” “Only twenty-six?”

“That’s right. And when he started out he had only a few hundred dollars to his name. He didn’t have a university degree — and he didn’t have any rich uncles.

“But now it’s time for dinner. Would you like to join me?” “Thank you very much. I’d love to.”

The young man followed the millionaire, who, despite his age, still had a lively bounce in his step. They went into the dining room, where the table had already been set for two.

“Please sit down.” The millionaire pointed to the end of the table, the place usually reserved for the host. He sat to the right of his young guest, directly in front of a beautiful hourglass engraved with the motto Time is Money.

The butler arrived with a bottle of wine and filled their glasses.

“Let’s drink to your first million,” said the millionaire, raising his glass.

He took a sip, the only one he had all evening, and ate very modestly — just a few mouthfuls from a delicious salmon steak.

“Do you like what you do for a living?” the millionaire asked the young man.

“I suppose so. The situation in the office is a bit difficult.” “Make sure you’re positive about your choice of careers. All the millionaires I’ve known — and I’ve met quite a few over the years — loved their occupations. For them, working became almost a leisure activity, as agreeable as a hobby. That’s why most rich people rarely take vacations. Why should they deprive themselves of what they enjoy doing so much? And that’s why they continue working even after be-coming millionaires several times over.

“But though it’s an absolute must to enjoy your work, it’s not enough. To get rich, you have to know the secrets of wealth. Tell me, do you really believe these secrets exist?” “Yes, I do.”

“Good. That’s the first step. Most people don’t believe there are secrets to attaining wealth. They don’t even believe they can become rich. And they’re right, of course. If you don’t think you can become rich, you very rarely do. You have to start by believing that you can, and then crave it passionately. Most people aren’t ready to accept these secrets, even if they are revealed to them in very simple terms. Their greatest limitation is their own lack of imagination. That’s why the true secrets of wealth are the best-kept secrets in the world.

“It’s a little like the purloined letter in Edgar Allan Poe’s story,” the millionaire went on. “Do you remember it? It’s the story about a letter the police were searching for and could never find, because, instead of being hidden away somewhere, it was lying in the least likely spot — in plain sight! Their lack of imagination and their built-in prejudices prevented the police from finding the letter. They weren’t expecting to find it in plain sight, so they never saw it.” The young man listened to the millionaire with rapt attention. He was burning to find out what these secrets were. In any case, one thing was sure: Even if the millionaire didn’t really have any secrets, he was certainly a master at setting an impressive scene.