By Tadé Makinwa
The more money you make, the more your life changes, not just in comfort but in consciousness. Suddenly, you start thinking differently about safety, about time, about movement, and about control. The decisions you make begin to look “strange” or even “wasteful” to the average person because your priorities are no longer the same.
I learned this firsthand last year when Air Peace celebrated its 10th anniversary, a grand event that brought together dignitaries, top business leaders, and industry giants from within and outside Nigeria. As an assistant to my boss, I was the point of contact for many of these distinguished guests. From national leaders to global entrepreneurs, I interfaced with people whose names open doors and whose decisions move economies.
Among them was a particular British business partner of my boss, a billionaire, the Chairman of a company over a century old, passed down through generations since his great-great-grandfather. As an aspiring entrepreneur myself, I’d done my research on his company and even had the opportunity to visit the UK headquarters with my team. I observed the systems, the culture, the structure, and the mindset that have sustained that organization for over 100 years. One day, I’ll share those lessons.
But what struck me deeply was what happened when I sent him an invitation to our anniversary. He called me directly after he picked my number from the mail I sent him to say he wouldn’t be able to attend the main celebration because of a critical business meeting scheduled for 12 pm that same day in London. But then he added something that shifted my perspective.
“Your boss is a good man, and I wouldn’t miss celebrating him. I’ll come in the night before the anniversary, have dinner with him, and then fly back to London early the next morning for my meeting.”
True to his word, on the eve of our anniversary, I got word that he had boarded his private jet. My boss released his Rolls-Royce and two security vans to me, and I went to receive him at the airport. From there, he checked into his hotel, changed into a beautifully tailored Nigerian native attire, and I took him first to our head office.
We sat together at the back seat, conversing deeply. After meeting with my boss, we went straight to the private dinner I had carefully arranged. Initially, I planned to excuse myself, but he insisted, taking my hand and saying:
“This young lady is joining us.”
That night, dinner ended around 1:30 a.m. I personally escorted him back to his hotel, ensuring he was settled before returning to the office, where another meeting with the management team was waiting. I left the office around 6 a.m on the anniversary day, exhausted but fulfilled. On my way home, I received a notification: our guest was already airborne, flying back to London in time for his noon meeting.
I paused and thought to myself:
“This man literally flew down from London on his private jet just to have dinner with my boss. He burned aviation fuel, secured landing permits, paid for parking space, and spent hours in the air, all for one evening of connection.”
I smiled because in that moment, I understood something profound: in the world of the wealthy, the rules are different.
What many would consider irrelevant or wasteful, the rich see as strategy. What the average person calls vanity, the wealthy understand as leverage. That private jet wasn’t about luxury, it was about control, control of time, control of presence, and control of opportunities.
Femi Otedola said in his book that the moment his net worth crossed $100 million, he became uncomfortable flying commercial. I may not have understood him some years back, but now, having interacted closely with people who operate at that level, I do.
When you reach a certain financial height, your priorities shift.
You spend more on security because safety becomes priceless, you invest in comfort because your energy is your highest asset, and you buy time because time, not money, becomes your greatest currency.
And yet, those without means often criticize these choices the most. People who’ve never built wealth are usually the first to suggest how wealthy people should spend theirs. But here’s the truth, the haves do more philanthropy than the have-nots ever realize, they just don’t make noise about it.
This experience, among many others expanded my mind in ways I can’t fully describe. My imagination became bigger, my vision wider, my thinking deeper. Because when you spend time in an environment of abundance, something in you shifts, and you’ll realize the world is far larger than your current reality.
That private jet you might see as waste, the wealthy see a tool, a tool for movement, a tool for comfort, a tool that buys back time.
That “unnecessary” trip you might call indulgence, the wealthy call it alliance, they call it relationship, they call it honor, they call it business.
When you understand these dynamics, your perspective changes. You stop questioning why a pastor worth over $150 million owns a private jet. You stop being offended when a billionaire buys cars worth billions for his daughters. You will also stop arguing about decisions made on levels you’ve never operated on.
Because here’s the truth, the world is far bigger than your lack.
The only reason most people can’t see abundance is because they’ve programmed their minds to focus on limitation. But if you intentionally re-engineer your thinking, if you expose yourself to content, environments, and conversations that expand your imagination, you’ll begin to see possibilities where others see impossibilities.
And that, my friend, is the first step to changing your life.
Because until your mind evolves, your life won’t.
Written by Tadé Makinwa
