I didn’t know we were poor. Not really.
My parents didn’t raise me to feel “less than.” We had food, family and faith: the three things that made life seem full. But looking back, there were signs: saving warm bathwater for the next kid in line, using one car battery to start multiple vehicles and wearing hand-me-down jeans from uncles just a few years older than me — or worse, the clothes my mom sewed herself from the same material she used to make my curtains. (Sorry, Mom; I know you tried.)
It didn’t feel like a struggle. It just felt like life. However, life was quietly teaching me lessons I’d need decades later. Not just to survive, but to help lead.
One Battery, Multiple Engines
That old car battery still sticks with me.
There were times when my family or I (and others in our small town) needed to get to work or school or use equipment, so we’d pop the car hood, unhook the battery, carry it across the yard and fire up the next machine. Sometimes we would need to repeat the process. Same battery, multiple engines and just enough charge to keep everyone and everything moving, assuming the alternators cooperated (sometimes that became its own weekend project).
The process worked if we kept the engines running and all stayed together. But sometimes, we needed jumper cables and a friendly neighbor to make it back home.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but that experience taught me the value of resourcefulness and collaboration. It was about making the most of limited resources — financial, physical or mental — and never being too proud to ask for help. We were all in it together, pulling in the same direction. We had the same goal.
These days, I’m not swapping batteries; instead, I’m managing people, cases, deadlines and the occasional crisis. Sometimes, I’m the one supplying the charge. Other times, I’m the one hauling the energy where it’s needed most. The principle hasn’t changed: Keep things moving with what you have and never let anyone stall out on your watch.
What Poverty Taught Me About Being an Expert
Growing up poor helped lay the foundation for my professional life. The real-life lessons I learned to survive my childhood and help support my family and community became the values that now guide my everyday practice as an expert. Here are four lessons that resonate.
1. Practicality Is Survival.
When you grow up counting nickels, practicality becomes instinct. Your measure of materiality changes. That habit of watching every penny became the foundation of my career, whether I’m tracing fraud, calculating damages or valuing a company.
Assessing the reliability or reasonableness of a statement? Assumptions, decimals, footnotes — they matter. Mistakes once meant someone missed work; now, they can shift a verdict or sink a career.
Professional standards call for a reasonable degree of certainty. The phrase “in all material respects” appears throughout those standards, emphasizing that accuracy matters. But back then, “close enough” wasn’t close enough. Reasonableness and materiality, to me, equate to practicality with experience behind it. Knowing what matters, what doesn’t, and how to apply professional judgment when perfection isn’t possible can be an art.
Growing up poor meant every decision had to make sense and be explained in plain English. That’s good practice for expert work, too. The best experts don’t just calculate; they clarify. If a fifth grader can’t follow your logic, a jury probably won’t either.
So, be practical. Simplicity is the shortest path to credibility.
2. Resourcefulness Outranks Resources.
Poverty teaches innovation because you have no other choice. You fix things with duct tape, prayer and determination. You learn that excellence doesn’t come from abundance; it comes from creativity and collaboration.
Sometimes, one battery wasn’t enough. We’d call friends or family, and it became a group effort. That’s where I first learned “it takes a village,” which in business terms simply means “collaboration.” Or better yet, “teamwork.”
In my world, resourcefulness means working with incomplete data, late disclosures and shifting deadlines, but still finding clarity. It means knowing when to call in reinforcements, when to pivot methods, and when to admit you need a “boost.”
The best experts don’t wait for perfect conditions; they proactively find tools and information to solve their problems. I haven’t survived because I had everything. I’ve survived because I learned how to make everything count.
3. Resilience Isn’t Built in a Boardroom; It’s Built Through Experience.
I didn’t need a boardroom or courtroom to learn what pressure felt like. All I had to do was hold the flashlight while my dad worked on the truck.
There’s no cross-examination or witness attack in the world that equals the wrath of a father half-buried under a hood yelling, “Hold the light still!” or “I said the half-inch wrench, not the three-eighths!” I’d stand there frozen, gripping that flashlight like it was evidence in a case, praying I wouldn’t blind him or bring the wrong tool (while knowing I had brought exactly what he asked for).
That’s where I practiced composure. You think opposing counsel is intimidating? Try surviving your dad’s rage when the socket slips and knuckles get busted. Best to just get out of the way.
It turns out that’s excellent training for expert work: Stay calm, take direction and don’t take it personally when the person across from you is frustrated (even if you’re right and they just don’t see it yet).
Resilience isn’t a seminar topic. It’s a survival skill forged through repetition, mistakes and humility. And it is hard.
4. Gratitude Outlasts Adversity.
Many have heard me say, “I don’t have to do this. I get to.” And I mean that. When you’ve lived “without,” you appreciate living “with.” I still feel a spark of gratitude when a client hires me, when a colleague trusts my judgment, and when I accept that I get paid to help solve others’ problems for a living. That’s not pride; that’s awe.
When you graduate from counting pennies to tracing millions, and seeing some go from having millions to hoping for pennies, gratitude becomes the one constant worth holding. It costs nothing but has infinite value.
I don’t take any of it for granted: my colleagues, my clients, or even the chaos. I know how quickly things can change. That perspective keeps me steady when things get messy or opposing experts get loud. I’ve seen bedlam, and it doesn’t scare me anymore.
Keeping the Engines Running
I wish I could say I always got things right. But there have been times in my career when I’ve tried to over-engineer my analysis, perhaps to overcome the insecurities of my upbringing. And looking back, I realize there were also times when I could have been more grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given and more appreciative of those who were doing their best to support me. They say you learn from your mistakes, and I agree. However, like most people, I wish I’d learned from someone else’s!
So, while you don’t have to grow up poor to understand these lessons, you do have to practice them:
- Be practical. Common sense and reasonableness prevail over complexity and confusion.
- Be resourceful. Stretch what you have and can scavenge until it’s enough.
- Be resilient. Calm is a superpower, a skill not taught but earned.
- Be grateful. Every opportunity is a privilege, not a guarantee.
If my story teaches anything, it’s that scarcity isn’t the opposite of success; it’s the training ground for it. Poverty gave me perspective, not shame. It taught me to see value in the face of limitations.
Today, when I walk into a boardroom, courtroom or sit across from counsel, I remind myself that I’m still that kid carrying the battery. I just have farther to carry it now. And a few more engines to keep running.
Jeffrey Matthews is a forensic accountant with nearly 30 years of experience. He has testified in multiple civil and criminal matters at both state and federal levels for cases with awards of over $100 million. He has acted as a court-appointed accountant in federal bankruptcy court and led the investigations on the largest domestic public corruption case in history. His clients include the USA’s top law firms, Fortune 100 legal departments, and government investigative agencies.