The Value of Money

Money has always made its presence known in my life. Growing up I watched my parents vent about their headache-inducing jobs on a daily basis, but they kept returning to the office because these jobs paid the bills. And I’ve always quietly respected the value of a single dollar because I saw the stress they put themselves through to make a living.

When I applied for colleges I knew the tuition would crush my young, barely adult, soul. But I felt the education was necessary. I was cautious when choosing my school, I made a choice to go to a school that offered me a scholarship. I knew debt would be inevitable, but I did the best I could.

My first semester of college was going surprisingly well. I had made two best friends: Maddy and Rebecca. We understood each other perfectly. We laughed together, studied together, and ate more ice cream than necessary together. I felt as though I fit in. I belonged somewhere.

November rolled around and emails were sent out to all students in the first-year class.

“Join Resident Life!” The email read in a whimsical and bold font. The email listed the instructions for if you wanted to be a part of the residential staff, essentially help manage the on-campus housing. 

I was intrigued at first, since getting the position meant that the bill for your college dorm room would be paid for. And the dollars that wouldn’t have to come out of my pocket really spoke to me. But the workload the came with it really didn’t spark the same interest. So I decided I wouldn’t apply.

Well, I decided that before Maddy and Rebecca both told me that they were applying. They were getting together to fill out the application, and since I was going to be with them anyway, I changed my mind and decided to fill out the application.

I knew I wasn’t the type of person to get it.

Fast-forward to the spring of my first year. Months and months had passed since I first decided to fill out that application. I had been to two different interviews and put my best foot forward, despite not being as determined to get the position as either Maddy or Rebecca.

But to my great surprise, as well as the surprise as my friends and family, I received an email stating I had been accepted for the position.

I jumped out of my chair. I began pacing my dorm room and couldn’t have a single coherent thought. 

“Why? Why would they choose me? Me? Why? I don’t care. I can’t believe this! How?”

I didn’t really care how, but I was ecstatic. And for a moment the workload that ominously sat in the back of my head didn’t exist. All I could think about was how the financial benefit would help me. Two semesters of room and board bills came to around $11,000. And for a year, next year, I wouldn’t have to pay that. This could be amazing for me. Caring about the money more than helping out might not be one of the qualities sought after in the job, but it was the thing most present on my mind.

And, apparently, it was the thing most present on Rebecca’s mind too.

I walked into her dorm where I found her crying, covered in blankets, and Maddy who was already there and had been trying to comfort the crying girl.

Turns out my excitement and her sorrow both stemmed from the same thing: the resident life position. Neither Maddy or Rebecca were hired.

Rebecca is a very intelligent girl, one the smartest I’ve met, and she planned on going to veterinary school in her future. And she had the brain to do it, but money seemed to be the bigger issue.

“It’s not like the money was going to make up for the cost of vet school, you know,” she sniffed. “But, God, it would have helped. I don’t even know. I thought- well, I thought things could just work out. I feel so dumb.”

I didn’t have the heart at that moment to tell her my good news. It wouldn’t have helped. But my silence was broken the minute Maddy asked:

“Did they send you a rejection email too? Or did someone do it in person? Because I had both. That wasn’t fun.”

“Actually,” I slowly began. “I did get the position.” My voice trailed off at the end and I was hoping it would be quiet enough for Rebecca not to hear me. But she did.

“Are you serious?” She asked starkly. For a split second, I believed it might have been the start of a congratulatory sentence, but then I looked into her eyes. If pure rage was ever a visible concept, I believe I might have seen it.

“You didn’t even want it!” She shouted. “You didn’t even care! You don’t care! You’re not even continuing your education after these four years of school. You don’t need it!”

“Hey! My family isn’t exactly swimming in money you know.”

“Well, neither is mine! I can’t believe this. I’m- I just don’t understand. Why would they even choose you?”

That last sentence of hers unintentionally stuck with me. The people in charge never directly said why they chose me.

I went back to my room that night and thought about it, and everything else. Truth be told, I still didn’t really want the responsibility burden that came with the job. And my empathetic heart cried for Rebecca. I knew she wanted it. I knew she felt that she needed it. And I didn’t feel that same need, only a desire. 

Two days went by, and I made a fateful decision. My head and my heart argued with each other over what was best and in the end, I don’t think the fight was ever really settled.

But I decided to decline the job.

Instead, I went to the people who were supposed to fill me in on what was going to happen next year and I vouched for Rebecca’s character. I pleaded with them, although I like to think I was persuasive, to hire Rebecca in my place. And after much back and forth with them and their higher-ups, they agreed.

Rebecca’s sorrowful tears were replaced with ones of joy. I remember the warmth of the hug she embraced me in. I remember the glowing feeling I felt inside when she told me I was the best person she had met in her life. She told me she would never forget it.

And I believed every word she said. She was my best friend. And I valued her higher than the $11,000.

I valued her more than the money during that year. Just that year. Because when our second year of college began she was suddenly nowhere to be found. Yes, she was still on campus. But she wasn’t with me. And she wasn’t with Maddy either.

Turns out over the summer she had done an animal science-related program with the school, and she met new people. New people that she left Maddy and me for.

When I found out she had no intention of speaking to me again, well, let’s say once again pure rage was visible. I’d say it’d look a lot like me.

And for a long time, I pondered the question of why I was willing to give up so much for her when she would never do that for me? I felt like a fool. Like life was a game where everyone knew the rules except me. And for a while, I asked myself if I was the problem. Why would she just leave?

I never got my answers, so I’ll always consider it one of the greatest mysteries of life.

And it’s not that I don’t trust anyone, but I certainly won’t be making any impulse decisions like that one on anyone anytime soon. I have so much love to give out, but maybe not everyone deserves it.

So when I look at my overall college tuition bill I think to myself about what that money could have done. I think about the stress it could’ve saved me and my family. The stress and heartache I could’ve saved myself.

The single dollar still holds much value to me, as do the people I care about. But when the path of life I travel on divides and I can only choose one or the other, I feel as though now I’ll know how to choose the right one.