Making Money From People You don’t Know
I have to admit that I had lots of fears when I moved in with a big brother. He’s in a different house with different people. Those fears seemed to take over my mental state like that little postapocalyptic storm.
I feared letting myself out of my walled city and getting to know people (people who I didn’t know existed).
I feared having to make money with money I didn’t know.
He introduced me to a way he makes money. How he works in reverse—no customers, every transaction fees, which then goes to him to make more money and continue doing it until he loses his buying power.
So if you’re like me, this fear drove you mad. Then it’s time to let it go, and you can only make money if you find a problem. One problem that had me scratching my head, though, was stealing from my younger brother.
How am I supposed to do it? I’m his little sister. He is his best friend, my main source of survival. He’s the reason I live. His addiction to drugs drove him to his small town in Chicago. He’s a minor there and thus not in any way responsible for his actions.
I was married to him in one of those traditional romantic 19th century ceremonies that no longer exists. We had just a few children with one of them being fathered through in-vitro fertilization, which seems like an absurdity by today’s standards.
In other words, our marriage got out of control almost overnight. I could stand up and say, “I want to file for divorce.” But that seems childish, like I’m just selfish and waiting for my divorce to come through and settle out of court.
During that rocky, druggy teenage years, my little brother had experienced many robberies. It was no mystery to me that he was so paranoid. After one he had taken the gun to his head and killed his attacker, who, luckily, hadn’t realized I wasn’t his wife.
However, I didn’t know this story. That same night when I was 7 or 8, I knew this story, but it wasn’t often that I’d remember it until I was almost 14 or 15.
Just as I remembered it very well, back then, I was still younger than my little brother, but he taught me and influenced me in certain ways.
He made me feel invincible. The world seemed an unbelievable place of complexity and conflict. Money was an essential tool to succeed—realizing that someday there would be nothing..
A chance to steal from him, pretending he knew nothing about it, it seemed like a natural next step. He knew he had no money to steal from me—an unequal playing field—but that didn’t stop him.
He taught me that nothing was real. Everything was and everything could be rearranged. Money was elusive and unpredictable—who would’ve thought we’d ever speak about this today.
He’s like that. He’s more of a rascal than a rascal. So he’s a hard man to sort out.