Robert was heading to the class reunion, the first time hed seen his old schoolmates in three decades. Straight after leaving secondary school hed moved to Manchester for university, then stayed on for a job. Later he set up his own firm, weathering the inevitable highs and lows of entrepreneurship.
Sometimes he missed the lads from his teenage years. In spare moments he scrolled through their pictures on social media, sharing his own snapshots in return. Above all, he wanted to see Imogen. Hed liked her intensely back in sixth form, but Imogen never seemed to notice the quiet, bookish boy. The last time hed tried to impress her with a bouquet, she leapt onto Adams motorbike, didnt even glance at the flowers, and sped off, kicking up a cloud of dust. He never approached her again and drifted away, letting the chance slip.
Robert hadnt kept many close friends from school; most of his time was spent studying. He only kept a few mates whod joined him for extra maths tuition, grinding together for the university entry exams.
He arrived at the reunion in high spirits, having prepared a small gift for each former classmate, making sure no one was forgotten. They gathered in a cosy tea room, laughing and reminiscing about schooldays. Robert watched the group, his eyes lingering on Imogen. She sat at the far end, glued to her phone, seemingly indifferent. After school Imogen had indeed married Adam, but, as Robert learned, they were now living apart and she was caring for a seriously ill child on her own.
Determined to talk, Robert approached her, only to be met with sharp words.
You live in that grand house and youve no idea what we go through! Ive seen your homeyour wife never works, she just spends her days at the salon. You have staff you never show in pictures. Your kids are studying abroad, and Im looking after a sick son. What could we possibly discuss? You wouldnt understand.
Imogen, am I the cause of your troubles?
In this country theres barely any funding for sick children, yet people like you sit on your wealth and hoard it!
Robert felt his blood boil; he disliked the topic being brought up. He had something to say.
Imogen, how many sick children have you helped?
I have a sick child myself! And yes, I sometimes send messages offering help.
I regularly donate large sums to charities, but I never make a show of it. So whos actually doing more good?
Its simple, you dont get poorer by giving away an extra hundred thousand pounds. My help costs me the very breath I take. Do you know how I earn my money? Every morning I catch two doubledeckers to get to work and collect the odd penny!
A few people in the room nodded in Imogens favour; the rest stayed silent.
When the evening ended, Robert placed the gifts on the table by the door and asked the waiter to hand a wrapped envelope to Imogen. As he walked away he reflected: theyd all had the same opportunities and abilities. He, Robert, had chosen study over hanging out in the courtyard drinking fizzy drinks, over smoking in the back alleys, over endless nights at the local clubthough hed visited a few himself. Hed pursued the university he was passionate about rather than the nearby vocational college. Hed taken risks, left his comfort zone, and built his own business.
Hed struggled, learned hard lessons, faced setbacks and losses. It wasnt his fault that his former classmates now lived the lives theyd chosen, judging him for his wealth. He didnt steal their money; he earned it himself.
How many of you know people like Imogen or Roberts old mates, who count other peoples pennies? Some were lucky enough to be born into affluent families and receive a solid education, but there are countless stories of those from humble backgrounds who forged success through their own grit. Everything is ultimately in our own hands, and each of us decides the path we walk.
The reunion reminded Robert that success isnt measured by the size of ones bank account, but by the willingness to lift others up even when the world looks away.
