How to Make a Million Dollars with Mr PS

Mr P.S and I rarely talk about money. It's one of those dating no-no's much like ex's and involuntary flatulence. 

Last week on the way to dinner we passed one of his current projects, an old warehouse space in Alexandria that he was transforming into several studio apartments.

"How do you do that?" I asked impulsively. You see I couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could buy anything in Sydney, especially with the average house price now close to one million. 

He didn't really give me a straight answer.

"You said you wanted to make a million dollars, how are you going to do that?” he asked turning it back onto me. 

I never specifically said I wanted to make a lot of money, I just mentioned that it would be nice not to live in share accommodation for the rest of my single life. 

"I'll sell my poems on the street" I said jokingly.

"Come to this property seminar on the weekend with me." 

"It's a two day intensive training course in the city” he continued. 

"Over the weekend!" I gasped. I work close to 55 hours and he's suggesting I give up my only freedom to sit in a seminar I have no idea about.

"I don't know about that” I said. Visualising not having a weekend made me instantly regret starting this conversation. 

“How about this" he said pulling up to Fratelli Fresh (now this is a place I could spend my entire weekend).

"You come to this course with me and at the end I'll take you to dinner at Cafe Sydney."

"I'm in!” I said without any further hesitation.

And just like that Mr P.S had bought my freedom for the weekend. An investment that I wasn’t sure would wield a great return for either of us, at least not until I was sitting on the terrace of Cafe Sydney quaffing a glass of bubbly. 

Saturday 7 am

Hauling my ass out of bed before 9 am on a Saturday felt wildly unnecessary. Not to mention walking through the deserted streets of Sydney CBD, I didn't feel like id woken up early, I felt like I had just fallen out of Frankie's. 

We took a seat in the second row, the room full of thirty something year old business people. I was well and truly out of my comfort zone. My anxiety peeked as a middle aged man sat beside me with his property portfolio and shiny cuff links.  

"There are a lot of American people here" I whispered to Mr P.S who was looking handsome as ever with his tasselled brown locks.

"Yes that's because it's about the US market" he said pointing to a booklet in front of me 'Success in US Real Estate'.

Are you fucking kidding me mate. What good is this to me?

The main speaker starts addressing the class and I want to sign my name and get the hell out of there. 

"Now raise your hand if you've read Who Moved My Cheese?" he asks. 

Cheese. The first question at this fancy rich people seminar is about cheese. Mr P.S and several others raise their hands.

I like cheese...

For the next fifteen minutes we proceeded to watch a cartoon about two little men and two little mice on the hunt for you guessed it, cheese. It doesn't take me long to understand the underlying message. To different people cheese means different things, in this course cheese signifies success and money. The way in which people find it, spend it and react when it's taken away from them. To fully understand it you can watch the video here.

“You see to make millions of dollars you can't be afraid of money Paigey.” Mr P.S said pouring himself a cup of black coffee as I tucked two cookies behind a cup of tea. 

“You also shouldn't work for it like a slave, the best thing to do is to learn how to make money work for you.”

Money work for me? How bizarre. To me that was a notion reserved for bankers, stock brokers and other rich kids with trust funds. Not twenty something year old girls who barely passed 'special' maths in high school. 

“So you’re just suggesting I sit back and prostitute my pennies?” I said smugly.

“It’s all about working smarter not harder baby.” 

I was a little (a lot) turned on by his attitude towards money, the word by this time didn't seem so dirty.  Many of the men I had dated before him were afraid of it. Afraid of paying their rent or the rego on their car and they were riddled with fear every time the waiter delivered the bill at a nice restaurant.  

Mr. P.S not only thought strategically about his money but had the audacity to take charge of it.
He was fearless unlike many people around me who choose to stay in the same job year after year because they’re afraid their familiar cheese would be taken away. 

After lunch on the second day of the seminar he disappeared for a little bit then finally came and sat down beside me.

"How do you feel about the time you invested this weekend?" He said cooly.

By this time I had learnt about wholesaling, loans, entering deals, closing deals and even how to eliminate additional taxes and charges on my credit card (I don't have a credit card but one day I might).

"I feel like I've gained a new perspective" I said truthfully.

"Well thank you for keeping me company" he said as he slid a small card in front of me.

"I have a meeting with one of these guys so why don't you head to the Four Seasons and get ready for dinner?"

THE FOUR SEASONS?! No worries!

I freshened up in the gorgeous Harbour View Suite and then made my way to Café Sydney to meet Mr P.S. 

While I waited for him to arrive I looked around and saw plenty of men in expensive suits, women drenched in designer labels and seemingly retired couples who were probably kicking back, enjoying their dinner as their money worked for them.   

It then occurred to me, Is money a language that all these people speak fluently? Were they taught about investments as children while I was out chasing the boy next door?

One day I would like to make enough money to bring my whole family here and have us all order the dreamy duck confit. 

Unfortunately it’s not a place you can dine often on a regular wage. 

After we finished our delicious mains, the waiter came and asked us if we would like dessert. We decided to steer clear of the 'familiar cheese' platter and head back to the hotel for a decadent spread. 

Mr P.S popped open a bottle of champagne and I gorged on truffles and choc pops. 

“Teach me how to make a million dollars” I said filling a plate up with mini cakes. I felt like a slightly fatter Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

“Are you ready to take some risks?” He said handing me a glass of champagne.

I looked at the man in front of me that I felt was certainly out of my league. He was smart, successful  sexy and striking. Risks, ha! Investing this much time with him is one of the biggest risks I have ever made. 

“Your homework for tomorrow is to read Rich Dad Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki but your homework for tonight is something else entirely!” 

The next morning Mr PS left for work and I reflected on my weekend over a cup of coffee.

He invited me to the seminar not because he wanted me to buy a US property but to get me to start thinking about money differently. Yes it took a bribe to get me there because I was foolish enough to think that investing my time and money wisely was something that didn't concern me. 

Well if you are a girl or guy in your early twenties. Let this be known, I was wrong. It does concern us! Especially if you plan on being more than just an employee for the rest of you life. 

Unfortunately learning to make a million dollars isn’t as straight forward as attending that seminar, reading a book or understanding this post. However, the first step to being rich is thinking rich and I don’t mean thinking that you can always afford that luxe pair of shoes!

If you can adopt a positive attitude towards money early you’re well on your way to long term financial success in your thirties and beyond.

At least that's what my new book, Rich Dad Poor Dad tells me.

Moral of the story? Allow a handsome man to expand your mind...you've got nothing to lose and millions of dollars to gain.

READ: Rich Dad Poor Dad By RK

WATCH: Who Moved my Cheese?