My father is an aeronautical engineer at Aerospace Indonesia. He holds an electrical engineering degree from UGM and a Master’s from TU Delft.
He once told me he could have stayed in the Netherlands to work or pursued a professorship in Japan. He chose not to. He chose to come home because he loved Indonesia. Today, he is “just” a staff engineer. We have enough—we don’t lack material things—but his path didn’t lead to the kind of “Big Wealth” the world celebrates.
For most people, reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad is a positive experience. For me, it was intoxicating in the worst way.
The Financial Poison
That book, combined with a high school biology teacher who constantly reminded us that “only money matters,” rewired my brain. I became obsessed with the “4 Quadrants of Wealth” and finding the fastest exit to richness.
I started to belittle my father’s choices. I saw his stability as a lack of ambition. I looked at my mother and sister’s frugality—the way they spent time to save a few Rupiah—and I hated it. I decided then that engineering “wouldn’t make it big.” I told myself I had to be realistic.
But in my rush to be realistic, I lost my curiosity.
The “Cara Cepat” Foundation
The education system in Indonesia didn’t help. I realized the foundation was broken when I represented my school in a city olympiad. The tutors weren’t teaching; they were just managing. I ended up preparing solo, watching Bengkel MaFia on YouTube.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t learning concepts; I was just memorizing patterns. At my bimbel (tutoring center), we were taught cara cepat (shortcuts) to pass exams. The depth wasn’t there.
Thinking my foundation in science was too weak to go anywhere, I pivoted. I chose Information Systems—a blend of business and social science. I thought I was being smart. Instead, I found it boring. The theory was simple, but the reality—dealing with users and human politics—felt draining.
The Redundancy of “Easy” Paths
I graduated from a top university and realized no one was waiting for me. I felt tricked by the prestige. Maybe I was just incompetent, or maybe I failed to utilize my privilege, but the rise of LLMs made it worse.
Watching AI automate the “simple” things I studied made me feel redundant. I started to envy my friends who stayed in “hard” engineering—the ones who focused on low-level systems and research. They have a niche. They have a craft.
I have a mindset that tells me experience and entertainment are wastes of money. I’ve never even been on a plane, despite having the money to do so. I’ve accumulated some wealth through luck and speculation, but I don’t feel rich. I feel stuck. I want to “build something,” but I’m too risk-averse to spend, and I’m too lost to know what to build.
Moving Beyond Robert Kiyosaki
I realize now that I blame Robert Kiyosaki because I need a scapegoat. His book made me obsessed with the destination while making me despise the journey. I looked down on my father’s quiet, dedicated career because it didn’t fit a “quadrant,” but now I see the dignity in what he did. He followed a passion; I followed a spreadsheet.
I don’t know if I need a total pivot or if I just need to change how I see the world. But I’m tired of hoarding money for a life I’m too afraid to live. I’m tired of the “meaningless job.”
Maybe the first step is admitting that the “Poor Dad” was right all along: there is more to a career than just how much money you make.