What’s a Dollar Worth?
By Howie Barber
I’m not my grandfather. At least, that’s what I’ve always told myself.
But as I’m writing that, I realize I am a grandfather now, which means I’m probably closer to him than I’d like to admit. Maybe not in the same ways, but definitely in how I think about work, money, and what it actually takes to build a life.
I remember exactly where I was in 1995. I was riding in a car with my boss, working for a metrology company, when he turned to me and told me I was doing a good job. Then he said he wanted to give me a raise. One dollar an hour. Just like that, I went from ten dollars to eleven.
It was a rush. I felt rich.
I wasn’t long out of the Navy. My wife had recently been discharged and was working at a boot store. We were broke in the most honest way possible. Living day to payday with no safety net or backup plan. We had a baby on the way and exactly zero room for error.
Our big splurge was Chinese takeout on payday Fridays. That was our version of fine dining.
We bought our first house because renting wasn’t even an option. Back then, you couldn’t get an apartment without “steady employment,” and apparently a good conduct discharge and cash in hand didn’t count. So we bought a house instead. Less than nine hundred square feet, just two bedrooms with one bath. The laundry in the hallway closet where the water heater used to be. We moved the water heater into the crawlspace and stacked a washer and dryer.
At the time, I thought it was pretty slick. Honestly, I still do.
Later in my career, at a different company in the same field, I was offered a twenty-six cent raise at my annual review. I thought it was a joke, but it wasn’t. He told me it was the best they could do. I told him if the company was in that bad of shape, they should keep it. I left shortly after.
Not out of anger, out of clarity.
Somewhere along the way, I learned that if you do good work and treat every customer like they matter, people notice. They don’t care what company name is on your shirt. They care who shows up. If it’s you, they’re comfortable. If it’s you, they trust the work will get done.
Those relationships followed me wherever I went. I never took that lightly, and I never let it go to my head, but I was proud of it. I fed my family on customer service, and reputation.
So what’s a dollar really worth?
Sometimes it’s rent. Sometimes it’s diapers. Sometimes it’s Chinese food on a Friday night when that’s the one small reward you’ve earned for getting through the week. Sometimes it’s proof that someone noticed your effort. Sometimes it’s leverage and sometimes it’s dignity.
It isn’t just money. It’s a measurement of trust, and character.
And if you stack enough of those the right way, over enough years, you don’t just build income. You build a life that is solid, dependable, and grounded in real relationships, and real responsibility. It isn’t flashy or loud. It’s just real.