Windenburg, it was where my dreams begin.
I dreamt of owning a skyscraper one day, a towering one that would be an iconic addition to the city’s skyline. Something that would have my name plastered on it. And perhaps, my name would be on every reputable publication too. One day I would join the ranks of the Gates, the Buffetts…
The desire for success was in my blood.
I came with nothing, except an old computer, one that had the BSOD flashing more often than not. (I nicknamed it Smurf, for being almost always blue) And a crummy, beat up truck. A lemon sold at dirt cheap price. The gym was almost my home. It was the only place I could eat, shower and sleep with some sort of peace. But I won’t let these deter me. I knew nothing is more satisfying than building my wealth block by block, and even more satisfying relishing the fruits of labour.
Thirty years later, I achieved what I had set out to. Simbook, the company that I had founded with the Smurf and the Lemon, was one of the reigning tech giants in the city. My baby had blossomed into a behemoth. It was as if would never felt the same level of fulfilment again.
I looked at my daughters. They were gorgeous children; wonderful genes from their mother. But I disapproved the attitude of theirs. Their credit card bills alone gave me a fit. Well, I had more than enough money (Time said it was almost mathematically impossible for me to squander it within my lifetime!) but it was not the way it should be spent. It was as if they assumed simoleons grew on trees, or magical ol’ daddy had the Midas touch. I knew it was never the case. Admittedly though, they had never seen my struggles. Those days that I was toiling with Smurf and Lemon (I kept them with my gold bullions now. They documented my struggles, hence too sentimental to be thrown away). These two were just too fortunate.
If only, they knew…