A marine engineer, my father was very persuasive and a staunch unionist. But as a 12-year-old, I began questioning his judgment when he supported marine engineers on the Cook Strait ferries going on strike over one school holiday period because their beds weren't being made. That just didn't seem reasonable to me. But ironically, my father gave me what I believe is the greatest thing a parent can give to a child: a work ethic. Some people might say love is number one, but I've always thought that if you have to say you love your child, then something's not right. Surely that's just a gimmie. A good work ethic prepares you for life, develops personal responsibility, a sense of community, empathy, resilience, and an understanding that money doesn't, in fact, grow on trees. As a child and teenager, I mowed lawns, poured petrol at the garage, babysat, and sold pine cones. I paid for everything I got, bought a car when I was 15, saved to put myself through university and to buy a house soon after. I didn't expect—and didn't get—anything handed to me on a plate.