The Millionaire Next Door [Episode 1] You'll End Up Having Money Troubles Someday

In the past, there was something called the "Taxpayer Rankings."

It was a system where the names and amounts of people who paid a lot of taxes that year were made public, so to speak, it was like a Japanese version of a "rich person ranking."

Although it has been abolished now due to privacy concerns, it used to be published in newspapers at the time, and it would sometimes become a topic of conversation, like "Oh, that person pays this much?" or "Do celebrities really earn this much?"

Nowadays, it may seem like the wealthy who pay high taxes only live in tower mansions in Roppongi Hills, luxury residential areas like Ashiya, or in the suites of luxury hotels, but in reality, they are still scattered all over your neighborhood.
There are millionaires who don't stand out much, don't frequent flashy places, and love driving light trucks.

And one of the regulars on that ranking lived in the same neighborhood as me.

Work clothes, tabi boots, and fields.

He wore weathered work clothes and black gardening tabi boots. His face and hands were tanned, and although he would greet you, his way of speaking was blunt.

To anyone, he just looked like an ordinary farmer.

But the rumors never ceased.

──Apparently, he runs several organic restaurants.
──They say he also runs a health food and supplement company.
──It seems the fields and the real estate in Tokyo are all his own land.

It was all "apparently," "they say," and "it seems." He himself never said anything, and he didn't advertise. His house wasn't even that big. It was all very mysterious.

That is why I secretly called the old man
the "Millionaire Next Door."

The day I let it slip that I was feeling a bit overwhelmed...

I started talking to that old man properly
when my own life was starting to go wrong, little by little.

With work mistakes piling up and my husband and I drifting further apart,
I was just barely scraping by every day back then.

I often used to have tea with my close friends.

"Ugh, nothing went right today either!"
"My mother-in-law said something unnecessary again..."
"I'm the only one busy, and no one helps me."

We would laugh, comfort each other, and encourage one another while talking about things like that.
Long chats at family restaurants, consultations over the phone, blowing off steam at karaoke.

To me, that was a very warm time.

That is precisely why—
the old man's words were such a shock.

"That's just bad-mouthing disguised as seeking advice."

One day, as I was passing by a field.
An old man called out to me, saying, "Why don't you take a break?"

Leaning against the stakes surrounding the field,
as we chatted bit by bit, I inadvertently let slip
the kind of things I usually talk about with my friends.

"Lately, things have been a bit tough..."

About having a mean colleague at work,
about not getting along with my son's nursery school teacher,
and about my unreliable husband.
But also about how my friends always support me emotionally.

Then the old man smiled, but said with a serious face,

"That may seem like opening your heart, but it's just complaining.
It's bad-mouthing disguised as seeking advice."

"Your friends are probably good people, but
if you keep frequenting places like that,
you'll start acting unconsciously to avoid failure,
so you'll end up having money troubles soon."

...Huh? I thought.

I felt annoyed and retorted,

"That's not true.
I'm just facing my negativity instead of suppressing it,
and I'm only seeking advice because I want to move forward...
And I don't want everyone to hate my mother-in-law either."

The old man laughed a little,
and said this slowly, but quietly.

"But that's what's happening as a result, isn't it?"

Being in a place where standing up is the "natural thing to do"

I was speechless.
I couldn't say a word in return.

The old man wiped his muddy hands on his trousers and continued.

　“What matters isn't avoiding failure.
It's whether or not you can get back up when you do fail.”

“If you aren't in a place where getting back up is the norm,
before you know it, you won't be able to stand at all.”

“If you're in a place that doesn't foster challenges,
no matter how good the people are, you should leave.”

Those words seemed to hold both kindness and severity.

I couldn't say anything for a while.

Words that have remained with me, along with the scent of that field.

Even though I was struck to the core,
I still couldn't stop hanging out with my friends.
They were fun people I got along with, and I didn't see anything wrong with listening to each other,
supporting one another, and leaning on each other.

Nothing was going well,
but it was a necessary support to get through my anxiety-filled days.

And, just as the old man predicted,
I slowly began to fall into financial distress.

And even after that,
I experienced so many 'failures'.

Money.
Family.
Work.

But every time, I remember.

The scent of that field, the dusty work clothes, the black tabi socks, and the mud-covered hands.

What 'The Millionaire Next Door' gave me wasn't money, but

It was a way of thinking to rebuild your life as many times as you need.

──To be continued.