Rich Dad/ Poor Dad: A Tale of Two Sperm Banks

(This post was originally published on the humor blog, Tracy on the Rocks: It is a humor post and not meant to offend anyone struggling with infertility.)

Okay, this isn’t really a story about "sperm banks", more like fertility clinics — which is basically the same thing, except your sperm is getting direct deposited into a certain account….Anyway, now that I have your attention….

I was at a social function and it just happened that in attendance was not just one but TWO of my couple-friends who had recently been to a fertility specialist. I was talking to the husbands about their experiences.  Two VERY different experiences as I soon discovered.  Obviously I know that at my age, not everyone can just give it the old “high school try” by getting pregnant in  the backseat of our parents’ Buicks, so of course I understand  this can be a sensitive topic.  Luckily (?? You can determine after reading if this is accurate) for us, both of these guys were open about talking about their experiences…

So, the first friend went to this Chinese Medicine place- It was a real dumpy joint- let’s call him “ Poor Dad.”  Now, listen I want to be clear here- he isn’t poor at all.  He and his wife have plenty of money, but I need an easy name to refer to him as when I introduce the other guy, and since he went to the crappy place, he gets the poor (hopefully soon to be) dad title.   And I’m also not saying that Chinese places are all dumpy. I’m just saying that THIS place happened to be Chinese and it also HAPPENED to be dumpy.  Okay so where was I? Oh right, Poor Dad starts telling us about his recent “deposit” at the bank:

“Guys, it was terrible.  So they bring me into this room and there’s this chair and a magazine thrown in the corner.  So I pick up the magazine and every page is crumpled, mangled, like it was 10 years old and had just been manhandled over and over again.  And there’s this little window thingy like you use after hours at the gas station to the attendant  that you’re supposed to put the, uh, the cup in, you know when you’re done- because they have to get to it RIGHT AWAY. But they kept thinking I was going to forget so they kept sliding the window open to see if I had put it in.  So I’m sitting there with the magazine filled with pictures of these little Chinese girls who didn’t even look like they were of age to BE in a nudie magazine and it was so gross with these crumpled pages and the window sliding open every few minutes……And all the articles were written in Chinese so I couldn’t even tell what the stories were about. I mean, I know everyone jokes around about how they read nudie mags for the articles but I was getting desperate!! I was willing to! But I couldn’t!! It was so stressful!!!” Poor Dad exclaimed.

At this point, I wasn’t even doing a good job of stifling my laughter and was totally antagonizing him, “So were there like HOLES in the pictures of the magazine? Had people like, USE-used them??”

With a still post traumatic stress look in his eyes, Poor Dad glared at me.

I couldn’t help it, I pressed on…”Well don’t leave us hanging, what did you end up doing?”

“I resorted to my phone, of course!!”

Doubled over and gasping for air, I turned to Rich Dad, “So was that what YOUR fertility place was like?? Did you have little girl second, I mean thenth-hand Chinese porn too?”

“No WAY! My place was awesome! I walked in and there was this nice comfy chair and there was a remote to a flat screen.  You could scroll through and pick a category off the menu: BJ’s, blonde chicks, lesbians, red heads, big boobs, little boobs, leather…” He ticked off a bunch more.  “They had a section in the beginning that was ‘How to masturbate’…..that was kinda sad because I found out they have to use that for kids who might not know how to do it but they have to get tested and stuff, so that was a bummer.”


Oh man, I couldn’t help but feel bad for Poor Dad.

“Well, yeah I mean I didn’t WATCH the tutorial, but it was there….” Rich Dad laughed.

Poor Dad looked defeated.  It was bad enough he had to go through the ordeal but to find out that his buddy Rich Dad got to order BJ’s a la carte off the big screen was just too much.

He turned to his wife, who had barely been paying an ounce of attention to the three of us knuckeheads, “Honey, I wanna go to Rich Dad’s clinic!!!” He whined.

Her eyes grew wide.  “Excuse me!? You want to go to a new clinic? Oh of course, because you don’t get the GOOD porn like Rich Dad? Do you know what they do to ME in there?  But yeah, let’s worry about your porn selection!!”

He got the message loud and clear.

Here’s the thing though.  If you’ve ever actually read Rich Dad Poor Dad, you know that the message is that if you want to be rich, you need to think like Rich Dad.  Do the things that Rich Dad does.  Follow his lead.  Not the Rich Dad in my story, but in life.  Meaning, if you want to be a great writer, ask a successful writer for advice.  If you want to be a wealthy person, ask a wealthy person how they acquired their wealth.  If you want to make great sushi, ask a Japanese chef.  I mean, I would never go eat sushi that wasn’t made by a Japanese person.  Because they make it  RIGHT. So why would one go to a white person to help them get pregnant when China is the one who has the population issues? They OBVIOUSLY know how to make babies.  Also, I want to clarify that I am not clumping Japanese and Chinese people into the same “they’re all Asian what’s the difference?” category that everyone thinks white people do….my comparison was VERY deliberate. You see, I wouldn’t eat sushi from someone who wasn’t Japanese, but I probably WOULD eat Chinese or even Thai made by a non-native. Why? I knew you would ask that. Well l just think that eating raw fish served by an amateur would be foolish and outrageous and just plain stupid! But if a white person was making the Chinese food, they might not cook it authentically with the stray alley cats and I’m okay with not eating cat.  Now, I’m sure I’ve offended plenty of people but I’m just making a point that going to the Chinese Sperm place- albeit disgusting- might have been a well-played strategy on Poor Dad’s part….Just saying.

Meanwhile, as they say…"When in China….”

Poor Dad, try slipping the window lady this note next time you go in:


(Please stop opening the window.  I promise to leave the sperm there when I am done. Thank you.)

Good luck, Poor Dad!


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