There once was a young man who lived in a mansion. He was extremely wealthy and had all to his heart's desire. He was an only child and his parents had passed not so long ago—leaving him with trillions of dollars and a few stocks to keep the mounds full—but he did not mind it since it meant he could spend of his days alone doing all the things he wanted, with all the money he owned.
All.
Alone.
And he liked it that way.
He spent his days indulging in the finest delicacies, sprawling on his velvet couch; doing all the kinds of things people with actual jobs beg for.
And he did it all with a simple, black bowtie.
This man was always dressed in the finest black tie suits, for they made him feel important and even wealthier than he already was, but when the occasion called for a different attire, he always managed to keep the bowtie with him, wrapped comfortably around his neck. Exercise, bedtime, and yes, even bathtime, that bowtie a part of him, something that he never dared let go. It was his air, his wealth, all that ever mattered to him: all was implanted into this little, black, bowtie.
Ring!
A call.
Assuming it was just another one of those automated voices, talking about some "great offer" or asking to join some "beneficial survey," he let it ring. Ring, ring, ringing; is the only reason he keeps that phone. Livens up the mood. No one actually wanted to talk to him.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Then, a voice message.
Strange.
This wasn't one of the usual robotic voices that resided in his the telephone. These were actual, living, organic, human vocal chords.
Strange.
Um, hello. I'm not sure if this is the right number, but I'm kind of a friend of the family and I just recently heard of the death of two old companions of mine. I was just wondering if I could provide any living family members with some compensation.
Compensation?
The man made a beeline for the phone.
"Yes, um, u… yeah, um, hello there." The rich man wasn't really eloquent; talking to others was not quite his thing.
"Oh, hello. Who's this?" replied the caller.
"Oh, u-uuh, yeah… This is their son speaking to you, right now. At this moment"
"Ah, yes. I remember you."
"That's me."
"Well alright. I believe you as a family member would really benefit from this."
Does this mean he doesn't know I'm rich? thought the rich man. It made sense to him: you can't benefit from compensation if you're already rich. The friend must have never known about all the mountains of dollars his parents had stacked up and left for him to live on. Their orphaned child was more that capable to live on without any amount of compensation any kind soul could offer.
But that did not stop anything.
Greed got the best of him. The man in the bowtie loved money, and if he could obtain all of it in the entire world at the expense of everyone else, I think he would try. No matter how little the amount was of this compensation, he had to take it; it was for him anyway.
But he couldn't go out like this.
If the friend were to see him in his pitch black suit and perfectly fitted shoes, not to mention the bowtie wrapped around his neck, most certainly would he think twice about rewarding him with even two pitiful pennies. He would have to go incognito.
The rich young man did not have any butlers or maids—that just meant more people to forcefully listen to—so he had to dress himself. Fortunately, he found some common clothing in his late dad's closet. It was nice to take a look at the clothes he wore, the clothes of a rich man who pretended not to be. Strange, but a certainly interesting concept that son had to don upon himself for the time being.
After calling a taxi to meet him at the nearest corner store, which was almost a half mile walk from his great acres and mansion (good thing he decided to get there before calling it), he quickly arrived at the address the old friend gave him. It was a small humble home, not at all like the one the rich man was used to. As he pondered how even one person, let alone a family, could live well here, the door opened.
"Ahh. Welcome, son," said the friend in order to greet the man.
Son? thought the rich one. It was not the title that fazed him; it was just the way it was used by an adult he hardly even knew that was strange.
Both men went inside and sat down, yet the friend did not leave the room to look for this so-called "compensation." He just sat there, with the offspring of two dear friends looking inquisitively back at him.
"Let's cut to the chase: I know you're rich."
Drats! There goes that compensation thought rich one.
"But that doesn't mean I won't give you compensation"
The rich man was confused, but felt a little more at ease.
"But it's not monetary, you see. This compensation is advice. I see you got dressed in your dad's clothing. I doubt it was for my comfort, though it does help." The rich young man noticed a little grief in the friend's eye as he talked.
"You were willing to go through a little trickery just to get some money you didn't even need. Your parents weren't like this."
"I wasn't raised by them," replied the rich man. "I used to live with my aunt and her family."
"Well that makes more sense," replied the family friend as he got comfortable in his chair.
"Here is my compensation for you: please get rid of that bowtie."
The young man was confused: Why on Earth would he ever ask me to do that!? To him, it made no sense, so he just sat there, shocked and confused.
The older one explained.
"That little bowtie is more than just an accessory. It never leaves your neck. You had to wear it even when you tried to disguise your social status. Next time I see you, get rid of all that greed of yours. You don't need it and it just weighs you down. It'll keep you chained to struggles you don't even know exist yet."
Then he paused, and looked down: "You risked your life for a trivial item."
The friend had set up a test to see if the man would believe anyone who said they had money. These two had never met, yet the rich man came over even though he didn't even know of the family friend's existence; he could've been in real danger if it was a kidnapper pretending to be trustworthy.
This friend wanted to make sure the rich man was aware of that danger and that he would let go of he greed before it caused problems for himself. Or maybe others.
Yet upon hearing the friend's final words, the rich man left his seat and the house as well, unaware of the test and ignoring the compensation. Typical. Even the holy book of the Christians says it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.