A contractor came into the house to receive the final payment for a hefty home improvement project he had just completed. We had saved for this project for two years and therefore had the cash on hand to pay for it in full.
But without any prompting whatsoever, the contractor offered us a steep discount for the work he had done. We tried to argue that we could afford to pay for the project and were more than pleased with the final results, but he would have none of it and insisted on giving us the discount. After he left, we were baffled by (and grateful for) this act of generosity.
But the question arose, why was this discount offered in the first place? There was no need for it. We had the money for the project. "Do we look poor?" I asked Don rhetorically.
At this, he laughed. "Of course we look poor," he chuckled.
This actually startled me, because I don't think we do. Certainly I feel very, very rich. We have no debt, and live in a comfortable home with everything we need.
But then I looked around our house and tried to see it with a stranger's eyes. Nearly everything we own is either thrifted, inherited, or built by Don. The most noticeable "flex" is our books, 99% of which were purchased second-hand at library sales or used bookstores. When this person walked into the house, I had clothes drying on our indoor clothes racks and a cooking project in the works. There was no television in sight (we haven't owned one since about 1993), and the only visible electronics were our respective computers. The house was tidy and neat, without clutter.
In my eyes, our home is comfortable and inviting. I feel very, very rich. But to the contractor (who sees many houses), we must have looked like we were struggling financially, and felt prompted to offer the discount.
So, unexpectedly, we were left with more cash in hand than we anticipated at the conclusion of the project. To this end, we decided to ... well, never mind. The left hand shouldn't know what the right hand is doing.
