What I Would Do If I Had Ten Million Dollars.
The Superstition Mountains in the not so far distance were a deep scarlet color as if they were a giant canvas for God’s paintbrush that were the rays of the retreating sun in the west, and the sky above them a richer, truer red. It was a pleasant combination.
So pleasant in fact, it made me forget the fact that I was, as the saying goes, “broke as a joke” while driving down the 101 toward Mesa, mentally preparing myself to do the one thing no man ever, well, thinks he’d have to prepare for: ask his mother for money.
Perhaps I should have forgotten how to go broke, too. But if I didn’t remember, then this story wouldn’t stick.
“Well hello, cap’n,” my mom said, rounding the heather gray sectional in the living room, offering an inviting hand for me to take a seat. “Dinner’ll be ready in…” her eyes narrowed, shaking her other hand like a tuning fork. “Ten, maybe fifteen-ish?” She said, shrugging. “Siddown, stay awhile.”
I nodded my acknowledgment, swinging the door shut behind me and kicking off my slides. The chilly tile under my feet made my skin breakout in gooseflesh, (as if my blood wasn’t cold enough already) then I made my way to the living room, hesitantly accepting her offer.
The sectional made a tired woofing sound as I descended into it. “M-Mom,” I said, bringing a fist to my mouth and clearing my throat. “C-Can I talk to you?”
She frowned, cocking her head like a dog might. “Of course, honey,” she said, rapping her shellac nails on the granite counter top in the kitchen. “What’s up?”
I began seeing double as my eyes welled and tears cut trails down my face.
“Honey what is it?” She said, walking toward the living room and taking a seat across from me.
I took a deep breath, trying to control my heart as it thumped against my ribcage like a padded hammer. “I uh,” I managed, feeling the nape of my neck run slick with sweat. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I guess I’ll just come right out and say it…I’ve got forty-four dollars to my name.”
She folded her legs underneath her, perching an elbow on the back of the sectional and resting her head on her hand, nodding lovingly at me in a way only a mother could—you know what I mean.
After a moment—which felt like an hour—she turned and looked out at the sky, which now had taken the hue of bruised skin, before looking back at me and saying: “Okay then,” she said, the deep brown and amber in her eyes turning to fractured crystals with each blink. “I’m proud of you for telling me, honey.”
I know, that wasn’t the response I was prepared for either. As humiliating as it was to be a dead broke, just-turned-thirty-old-man…proud wasn’t the knee-jerk emotion I was expecting from her, given the circumstances.
“It’s just that,” I hung in my head in shame, watching tears drip off the blade of my nose, making dark gray splotches on the carpet at my feet. I drug a hand across my face, sniffled, and continued: “I’ve been so focused on writing my book the past couple months because that’s what has brought me the most joy and bliss and fulfillment, that I completely lost sight of my finances, obviously.”
“I understand.” She said, nodding for me to continue.
“That’s all I wanna do, mom,” I said. “I know that’s why God put me here—to write. I’m good at it, and I know I can help people with the written word…” my jaw went slack as I searched for what to say, talking with my hands now. “Unfortunately—in a very literal sense—it doesn’t make me any fucking money.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe not now, but it will. Someday it will.”
My mouth drew down and back as I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said. “The things that make me money…gah…I don’t know…those things,” I began counting my fingers. “Remote coaching, copywriting, consulting, they’re just purely for money, and that makes me feel…” my face pinched inwards on itself. “Dirty.”
You see, up until this point I considered myself to be nothing more than an, as my friend, Nick Ross says, “inconsequential man.” Sure, I founded—and then gave away—a successful gym, (long story). I had carved a nice little niche out for myself in the strength and conditioning industry as a “sprint guy” having transformed myself from powerlifter to sprinter in less than a year-and-a-half, which resulted in professional consulting opportunities, e-books, blah blah blah.
Those were nothing but meaningless wins, leaving something to be desired.
“Success is significance in wolf’s clothing.” — Hunter Michael Charneski
Something that can’t be built with sweat and manpower. Something that can’t be done physically, or in an arena of sport. The one thing that I wanted could only be achieved through time behind a keyboard.
Lots and lots of time behind a keyboard, and when that time went unchecked, it cost me my ass.
“I want you to know something,” my mom said, continuing once I made eye contact. “I will help you. We will get through this,” she smiled. “In fact, we’re gonna look back at this someday and laugh. We’ll say, ‘Remember the time when you had forty-four dollars?’”
I couldn’t help but laugh, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I did.
“I want you to know something else too, Hunter…”
“What’s that?” I said sheepishly.
“I am so thankful I am in a position where I can help you,” parentheses formed at the corners of her mouth as she smiled at me. “Because I’ve been where you’re at, and when I went to my parents for help, you wanna know what they told me?”
I said nothing, keeping my eyes fixed on her.
“They said, ‘Oh, sorry to hear that,’” she shook her head and laughed. “You will get through this, Hunter. And one day, you’ll be in a position where you can help someone who needs it, too.”
Long story short: my mother proceeded to help me pay my bills for the next two-months which came to a grand total of ten-thousand dollars.
I know, I know. I’m incredibly lucky to have a mother like her.
Trust me, I know. Which is why I am working like hell to be in the position my mother was so I can help countless others who are in the same conundrum I fell prey to…
You’re probably wondering, great story…but what’s this got anything to do with the title?
Fair enough, I’ll pony up and get to it.
If I had ten million dollars, here is exactly what I would do…
I would create a program for men. No, not just men but Alpha men, men like myself, (that’s clinical, not conceited).
- Men who have an artistic side, (whether it be writing, painting, singing, or whatever creative genius God blessed them with).
- Men who have are athletes. Footballers, hoopers, or even powerlifters-turned-sprinters, I don’t give a damn what it is they do as long as they are in the arena of physical competition and prowess.
- Men who love money because of what it can do for them, rather than what it can do for them, there’s a difference.
“Those who hate money never gave enough of it away.” — Alex Hormozi
In this program I would teach them everything there is to know about the almighty dollar, so they could pursue their passion without losing their ledger.
You see, since that humbling night in my mom’s living room, God has taken me by the scruff of my neck and said: “You have a bad relationship with money!” and proceeded to put my ass in the financial industry so I could learn all about it. The Big Man upstairs certainly has a theatrical side, doesn’t He? Of course He’d put me in the industry that’s created more millionaires than any other industry combined! Whoever said God has a sense of humor was dead on the money, no pun intended.
At the end of the day, money is just information, and what you don’t know can and will hurt you. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience.
“Money is just information.” — Hunter Michael Charneski
Anyway, back to the program. Being a man is more about simply surviving and providing. Being a man means being creative. Hell, it’s what we do.
It’s what we’ve always done.
Don’t believe me? Look around you.
- Concrete jungles in our cities were built by the calloused hands of men, whose architectural ancestor was a visionary by the name of Andrew Carnegie.
- Cars today are descendents from some wackjob by the name of Henry Ford, a man crazy enough to think there was a better way to get from A to B other than by horseback.
- And when the tread wore thin on the first car, the Wright Brothers took to the sky for the very first time, (they actually took flight five-years before the birth of the Model-T, but you’ll forgive me for wanting to use the metaphor,won’t you?).
- What about the iPhone you’re reading this on? Oh yeah, that was once nothing but a thought, an idea in the mind’s eye of the late Steve Jobs.
In this program, I would teach these artistic alphas how to make money work for them, not the other way around, as well as how to break the cycle of being wage slaves so they can tap into the one thing God put them here to do.
Let’s face it, life’s too damn short to not do what we’ve been called to do. And I sure as hell don’t want anyone to be in the position I was in sixteen-months ago: punished for pursuing passion instead of profit.
Because here’s the “secret”: the two aren’t mutually exclusive.
You can make a lot of money while writng the next great novel, or painting the next Mona Lisa, or composing the next Beethoven-esque symphony.
I know, because I am.
And as my mother told me, “…you’ll be in a position where you can help someone who needs it, too.” but I don’t want to stop at someone, no. I won’t stop until I’ve helped as many someones as I possibly can.
That’s what I would do if I had ten million dollars.
“But Hunter, why do you need ten million dollars to start this program? Couldn’t you start helping men right now?”
Lemme ask you a question…who’d you be more apt to take financial advice from: someone with a five-figure net worth, or eight?
Before I go, I’ll leave you with one last thing…
A mentor of mine, John L. Smith, encourages me to share my Definitive Purpose Statement every chance I get, rather than keep it to myself. For the uninformed, the Defitinitive Purpose Statement is a statement one crafts while reading the book, Think And Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill.
Now before I do I must humbly admit, I feel vulnerable sharing this. But I think there is power to being vulnerable, because as Carl Jung’s dictum for life goes: In Sterquiliniis Invenitur which translates to, “What you most want to find is where you least want to look.”
So, here we go:
I intend to acquire ten-million dollars by May 16th, 2023 by helping my clients achieve financial freedom, leave legacies, and change their family tree forever.
I will accompish this by calling on twenty people per day, earning referrals from every client and clients from every referral.
And now that you know both the what and the how of my ten million dollar dream, hopefully neither of us will forget it, because that means the story did stick.
God bless,
Hunter Michael Charneski
