Prediction

The first time I went to a palm reader was in high school. Or maybe technically after. It was part of the ‘project graduation’ party at the school. I had just graduated, but there was a graduation party hosted by the school or student council or some shit. It was safe in that there were no drugs or alcohol available at the event. Those who were smart enough, consumed before the event.

The palm reader lit up as she gripped my wrist tightly and traced the lines on my palm with her other hand. Her finger was light like a feather. It tickled. “I see great success. There is a lot of money in your future.” This made me happy, especially since I was about to go off to college to see who/what I would become.

After college, I moved to NYC. I saw a fortune teller there who also read my palm. “I see a big salary. A prosperous life.” Once again, this prediction aligned with what I wanted to hear because I was in NYC to make it big… or at least make it medium.

Several years after that, another psychic would tell me the same thing. Each time, I smiled inside, making sure to not give any emotion or expression that might let them know what I was thinking.

I’m an old ass, regular dude now. I don’t have a lot of money. But here is how things are different: I don’t want a lot of money. Once I decided that, I realized that it’s a weird thing to want. It’s not a common thing to want. And then I also realized that the psychics were just telling me what everyone wanted to hear. Everyone, or most people, wanted to hear that they’d come into a lot of money.

I made a deal with someone a while back. That someone was an experimental venture capitalist. He called himself a venture human capitalist. Or something like that. He wore designer jeans and perfectly pressed black t-shirt. His smile was bright white and straight.

“Business,” he said, “is not the future. People, we are the future! I invest in people, not businesses.” It sounded pretty cliche. Of course a VC would be looking for the right founder to invest in. But Mack, that was his name, elaborated. “You don’t need a business. I see that you have the potential to make money. I see great wealth in your future. You just need a little nudge. That’s where I come in.”

Ultimately, Mack invested $50,000 in me. He straight up gave me $50,000. The deal was that he owned 5% of equity in my money earning potential. So, every dollar I make, I send Mack a nickel. Over a lifetime, it adds up.

I took the $50K and moved to West Virginia where I bought a tiny plot of land with a trailer for $16,000. I forage, catch the rain water, and don’t really spend any money. I don’t want the money. I don’t need the money. Mack gave me everything that I need to survive and be happy. The odd thing is, I am his worst investment.