I'm a millionaire who sells ranches to billionaires. I still can't afford one for my kids.

• Jeff Buerger sells ranches in Colorado, where he was raised on a 6,500-acre property.
• Ranch life taught him work ethic and perseverance, which helped in real estate.
• His billionaire clients appreciate that he's willing to tell them no, he says.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jeff Buerger, partner at Hall and Hall. It has been edited for length and clarity.

There's nothing romantic about growing up on a ranch. At least, there wasn't when I was a child. I was irrigating fields by the time I was 7, and riding 30 miles on horseback by 10. People are into cold plunges these days, but I've been doing them since I was a kid — jumping into a cold ditch was how we got clean.

Helping work my family's 6,500-acre ranch was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but also one of the most rewarding. My childhood was tough, but there were beautiful moments too: my grandmother was an amazing fly fisherman. She taught me the art of fly fishing along the two miles of river that cut through our ranch, sharing the importance of a soft touch, rhythm, and patience.

A ranching friend helped start my career

I left the ranch to play college football, but returned after blowing out my knee. My family used to buy bulls from a man who was the patriarch of Colorado ranch real estate. One day, I saw him at a stock show, and he asked what I was doing.

I didn't realize at the time what a momentous gesture that was. His mentorship helped me get started as a young kid in a game run by a gray-haired man. People wouldn't give me the time of day, but the more people said no, the harder I worked. Growing up on the ranch had given me self-confidence and the ability to overcome adversity.

Now, I've been selling ranches for 31 years. Most of my clients are billionaires, and I've sold ranches worth millions of dollars, including a $115 million ranch in New Mexico that closed last year.

Clients like that I'll tell them straight

I get to work with some of the smartest people in the world. Their brains just think differently. Yet, my clients hire me because I'm not afraid to say no. I will listen to what they want, then tell them why it won't work the way they envision. It's the same rule I have with my three kids: always tell the truth.

I've noticed a difference between self-made billionaires and those who inherited their wealth. The self-made people teach their kids about work ethic and manners. They're trying to teach their children the same values that I'm instilling in mine. I want my son and daughters — who are 4, 6, and 8 — to be the type of people who hold a door, just because it's the right thing to do. My faith is a cornerstone of my life, and I'm sure to raise them with that, too.

I've done well financially, but I can't afford my own ranch

Sometimes I get jealous of my clients' children. It pains me to see that the children are uninterested in owning a ranch. I would give anything to be in their shoes, to be adopted by those parents — and I was adopted, so I know what that means.

I've had a lucrative career and am a millionaire. Still, I'm not in a position to own a ranch. That pains me too — I would give almost anything to provide my children the type of life I had growing up on the ranch.

Instead, we have a home in the city and a 27-acre parcel of land surrounded by a national forest. I take the kids hunting, fishing, and swimming. I want them to know what it's like to be cold or hungry, so they'll appreciate hot meals and warm showers. I'm someone who thanks God every day for a hot shower, because I know what it's like not to have it.

My biracial kids will need extra composure

I can't raise my kids on the type of ranches I sell, but I can teach them what I learned in those environments. My 8-year-old knows how to use a pocket knife really well, and I recently taught the kids how to make Dakota fire holes — an efficient way to build a campfire.

My kids are half Black, so I know I need to prepare them for things I didn't face as a kid. Whether I like it or not, they're going to need more composure. As a family, we do jujitsu together. In jujitsu, sometimes you're the hammer, sometimes you're the nail. Being the nail is humbling, but the kids know that everyone in the jujitsu community wants them to succeed. That's the thing about suffering: if you endure, you can gain so much.