would need to leave this small coastal fishing village, of course, and move to Mexico City, then to Los Angeles, and eventually New York City, where you could run your expanding enterprise with proper management.” The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, sefior, how long will all this take?” To which the American replied, “15-20 years. 25 tops.” “But what then, sefior?” The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.” “Millions, sefior? Then what?” “Then you would retire and move to a small coastal fishing village, where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, and stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos ...” I RECENTLY HAD lunch in San Francisco with a good friend and former college roommate. He will soon graduate from a top business school and return to investment banking. He hates coming home from the office at midnight but explained to me that, if he works 80-hour weeks for nine years, he could become a managing director and make a cool $3—-10 million per year. Then he would be successful. “Dude, what on earth would you do with $3-10 million per year?” I asked. His answer? “I would take a long trip to Thailand.” That just about sums up one of the biggest self-deceptions of our modern age: extended world travel as the domain of the ultrarich. I’ve also heard the following: “Tl just work in the firm for 15 years. Then [ll be partner and I can cut back on hours. Once I have a million or two in the bank, I'll put it in something safe like bonds, take $80,000 a year in interest, and retire to sail in the Caribbean.” “Tl only work in consulting until ’'m 35, then retire and ride a motorcycle across China.” If your dream, the pot of gold at the end of the career rainbow, is to live large in Thailand, sail around t