even talked to me once since I agreed to work for peanuts. Ten cents an hour. Hah! I should notify the government about you.

We have child labor laws, you know. My dad works for the government, you know."

"Wow!" said rich dad. "Now you sound just like most of the people who used to work for me. People I've either fired or they've quit."

"So what do you have to say?" I demanded, feeling pretty brave for a little kid. "You lied to me. I've worked for you, and you have not kept your word. You haven't taught me anything."

"How do you know that I've not taught you anything?" asked rich dad calmly.

"Well, you've never talked to me. I've worked for three weeks, and you have not taught me anything," I said with a pout.

"Does teaching mean talking or a lecture?" rich dad asked.

"Well, yes," I replied.

"That's how they teach you in school," he said smiling. "But that is not how life teaches you, and I would say that life is the best teacher of all. Most of the time, life does not talk to you. It just sort of pushes you around. Each push is life saying, `Wake up. There's something I want you to learn.' "

"What is this man talking about?" I asked myself silently. "Life pushing me around was life talking to me?" Now I knew I had to quit my job. I was talking to someone who needed to be locked up.