Money Mindset · Teaching Kids About Money

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain: Financial & Life Lessons in the Land of Oz

By R.T. "Todd" Borom

Some of the best financial lessons for teens don't happen in a classroom or in a book — they happen in the car.

Recently, I was invited to appear on a well-known financial podcast. The host's team sent multiple emails and text messages confirming the interview. They provided directions, parking instructions, and even photos showing exactly what the parking lot looked like.

My 15-year-old son came along so he could watch, listen, and learn how professional interviews work. I took a day off work to make it happen. To make sure we arrived rested and ready, I booked a hotel the night before. Between the hotel, gas, meals, tolls, and time away from work, we invested real money and significant time into a 12-hour round-trip journey from Long Island to the Washington, D.C. area.

We did our part. We showed up. The interview did not.

When we arrived at the studio, the lights were on, but nobody answered the door. We rang the bell. Nothing.

(Who summons the great Oz?)

A few minutes later, the host answered through the doorbell camera. "Who's this?" he asked. I introduced myself and reminded him about our scheduled interview.

His response surprised me. "We're actually on vacation," he said. "I don't know anything about this. It must be a glitch in our system." He explained that his producer was also on vacation and that the automated system must have continued sending confirmations.

Then he looked me up online. He found our book. He learned about my 93-year-old father and our work together. He told me we had a remarkable story and said we should connect. Before ending the conversation, he gave me what he described as his personal phone number and told me to call him in August.

He didn't even offer to Venmo us lunch for our trouble.

At the time, I wasn't looking for a personal phone number. I was looking for the interview we'd spent twelve hours driving to attend.

That was the end of the conversation. No interview. No follow-up. No apology email. No offer to reimburse the hotel, gas, meals, or roughly one hundred dollars in tolls that came with a 12-hour round trip from Long Island to the Washington, D.C. area.

Just a very long drive home.

The Real Cost

The financial cost of the trip was measurable. The time cost was greater. But the most valuable thing in the car that day wasn't the hotel bill, the gas receipts, or the tolls. It was my son.

Because whether we realize it or not, our children are always watching. They're watching how we handle disappointment. They're watching how we respond when people waste our time. They're watching whether we become bitter or simply move forward.

I asked him, "If this were your business, what would you do?"

He responded, "I'd try to make it right."

Fifteen years old, and he already understood something a lot of grown adults with big platforms haven't figured out.

"Nobody gets to tell you what you're worth." Not a boss. Not a customer. Not a former partner. Not a celebrity. Not a podcaster. Nobody.

Your worth isn't determined by someone else's preparation, professionalism, or opinion. It's determined by how you carry yourself when things don't go according to plan.

The Pivot

So we pivoted. We watched the World Cup at a restaurant. We walked along the Potomac. We went to a Nationals game, and my son caught a Major League baseball. Somewhere during the trip, I had to use a coffee cup as an emergency restroom while he woke up laughing in the passenger seat — not exactly the memory I had planned to create, but a memory nonetheless.

We eventually pulled back into our driveway around 1:30 in the morning. The interview never happened. The trip was still a success, because the most important lesson wasn't recorded in a studio. It happened in the car.

My son learned that professionalism matters. He learned that keeping your word matters. He learned that when your systems fail, accountability matters. Most importantly, he learned that disappointment is not defeat. You don't let one person's mistake define your day. You don't spend your life waiting for someone else to validate your value. You move forward.

The Bigger Lesson

My father is 93 years old. He built wealth the old-fashioned way — not through hype, not through shortcuts, not through branding, but through consistency, ownership, and financial discipline. Through showing up and doing what he said he would do. That's the philosophy behind How to Die Broke: building generational wealth by teaching kids about money early, and modeling it in real time — even on a twelve-hour drive that didn't go as planned.

Real wealth isn't built on promises. It's built on actions. It's built on honoring commitments. It's built on respecting other people's time as much as your own.

In business, mistakes happen. Calendars fail. Software glitches. People miss things. What defines professionalism isn't whether a mistake occurs — it's what happens next. When someone spends their own money, takes time away from work, books a hotel room, and drives hundreds of miles because your organization repeatedly confirmed an appointment, the professional response is simple: you apologize, you take responsibility, and you ask what you can do to make it right.

My son figured that out in about two seconds. None of those things happened here.

Perhaps the greatest lesson from that 12-hour trip is this: the people worth learning from aren't always the loudest voices in the room. Sometimes they're the ones quietly keeping their word.

Protect your time. Protect your resources. Protect your peace. And never allow another person's lack of preparation to make you question your own value.

To be clear — this isn't an indictment of any one host or show. It's simply my experience. But as we say in How to Die Broke: be careful who you follow. Talking loud and saying nothing can lead you down the yellow brick road — and leave you stuck in the forest instead of home.

The podcast never happened. The lesson did.