How $10,000 Taught Us More Than Money

Recently, I took a trip to Colombia to attend my cousin’s wedding. It was the perfect excuse to explore the country, wander through towns I’d never visited, and just drive. No real itinerary—just me, the road, and a few friends. It was the kind of trip that would have been zero fun if I’d brought my kids along. I’m incredibly grateful to my wife for holding down the fort at home, solo-parenting so I could chase a few dreams on my bucket list.

While I missed my wife and kids terribly, I kept thinking how much I wanted to share everything with them in real time—the sights, the smells, the tastes, the energy. But I soaked it all in for them, making mental notes and picking up a few treasures along the way.

When I came back, I returned with some gifts: hand-woven shawls from tiny village markets, colorful kites with yarn-for-string bought from roadside vendors also selling passion fruit, and, as a novelty, a couple of crisp $10,000 Colombian peso bills.

The shawls? My wife loved them. The kites? The kids shrugged them off. But the $10,000 bills? Those were a hit. My daughter’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “How much are these worth?!” she asked excitedly.

Seeing an opportunity for a teachable moment, I told her, “If you figure it out on your own, I’ll match whatever the value is in U.S. dollars.” Her face lit up, and she marched off to school the next morning with dollar signs in her eyes, dreaming of what she’d do with her soon-to-be windfall.

Later that day, I eagerly waited to hear how it went. Had she figured it out? Was she proud of herself? Instead, she came home fuming.

“You lied to me!” she exclaimed, holding up the bill as though it had betrayed her. “This is only worth $2.43!” She had convinced herself that $10,000 Colombian pesos would translate to at least $243, maybe more. Her dreams of sudden riches had been shattered, and now she felt duped, disappointed, and downright cheated.

I tried to console her, explaining that currency values are tricky and that sometimes our expectations don’t always match reality. She wasn’t ready to hear it, though—at least not yet. But in that moment, I realized something important.

How many times are we in this position at work? We see a big opportunity, rally our teams, and charge ahead with excitement, only to have the results fall far short of expectations. Just like my daughter, we feel disappointed, even frustrated. But then we dust ourselves off, regroup, and try again. Every “flop” is still part of the process—a lesson, a story, and sometimes even a laugh down the road. Just like her $10,000 peso bill, what seems like a letdown now might turn out to be priceless later.