You’ve Got To Be In It, To Win It.

A couple of year’s ago during a master’s class in sociology, the discussion focused on traits of certain socio-economic classes. Soon, the dialogue turned, quite innocently, to rudimentary stereotypes. A particular student, for whom I considered to be enlightened and well-informed, began to list what type of individual played the lottery. Urban poor, rural poor, lower middle-class to middle class all played for the obvious reasons. To get out of their various level of indebtedness, to escape whatever predicament they found themselves in brought on by financial circumstance, to obtain all the things associated with success. She pointed to the lack of education “most” members of these classes had for their frivolous spending. Not once did she note that this affinity for playing games of chance could have been an addiction. Not once did she refer to the possibility that this characteristic had been cultivated over many generations.
While she pompously, with an air of pretention never before exhibited, droned on with her supposed deep, meaningful analysis, the rest of the class snickered in agreement, everyone but me. I nodded politely at her observations, while inside I seethed at the thought of being so neatly categorized by someone who I thought was at least their intellectual equal. And now I was being summarily dismissed to a lower cerebral rung because of my penchant for games of chance. I could have sat there in silent approval, cowering under peer pressure. But that’s not me. So…I raised my hand, and told my story of lottery play.
Quietly, I said “I play the lottery.” The young woman looked as though I had slapped her with a newspaper for peeing on the floor. Her face turned a nice crimson color, and before she could unhinge the one foot that was firmly embedded inside her mouth, I explained to her my reasons which she, in her wildest dreams, and those of my classmates as well, never could possibly have fathomed.
“Look,” I said. “How many amputees do any of you know?” No one out of a class of fifteen said they had ever met, much less knew another besides myself. “Pretty long odds to become one don’t you think?” Next, I asked what were the odds of getting primary custody of a child back in the ‘80s? Again, expressions of bewilderment crossed their faces. “Now” I went on, “what are the chances of an amputee, alcoholic, drug addict, convicted felon, not just getting custody, but raising a child who’d become co-captain of his high school baseball team, and a 100% Bright Futures Academic Scholar?” Silence. I saved the best for last. “What are the odds, the father of that child, cleaning his act up, returning to school, and graduate Magna Cum Laude?” A long shot at best, I asserted. “Put all those odds, of all those things, happening to one person, phenomenal eh?” “That’s why I play the lottery. The odds of winning Fantasy 5 are around 1-400,000, Mega Money, 1-3,000,000, Lotto, 1-23,000,000.” (There was no Powerball yet. In case you’re interested the odds there are about 1-195,000,000.) “All things considered, I’ll take those odds over the other stuff that has happened.” Not one soul in the room argued with my reasoning, though it did elicit some good natured chuckles. But there’s more to it than that.
I had a rather serious gambling problem at one time. I’m an addictive personality, what can I say? Years ago I went to the casino in Atlantic City with $200, been up $3500, and lost it all, so utterly wiped out that I had to stop at toll booths to scrounge the ground for quarters to pay the tolls. During the same period, I’ve gambled a few large on a football game, with no means to pay if I lost, and lost I did. You get the idea. Playing the lottery, participating in my wife’s office football pool, picking a couple of boxes on Super Bowl boards, fill the void from my youth quite nicely thank you. Sometimes there even has been a modest payoff.
Back in the late ‘80s while still living in New Jersey, I got 5 of 6 numbers twice in thirty-five days, in that state’s version of Lotto called Pick Six. I won around 9 G’s. I have yet to be that fortunate here in Florida, but I’m not dead yet.
On each drawing date I approximate what the payout will be for any of the games I wager on, and plan accordingly. If the day ever comes, I want to be prepared. There will first be phone calls to a good tax attorney, an accountant, and an investment house that specializes in annuities. No squandering of a windfall for me. There are donations to institutions of higher learning to be made, and trust funds to be set up for family members. You won’t be reading about how I went off the deep end, bought multiple houses, boats, cars, and the like. So much good can be done with something as sizable as a Lotto pool, or better yet, a Powerball pot. Like the line from Forrest Gump, you can only be so rich, the rest is just for showing off, or something like that.
I’m curious whether any of my former classmates were still in school when a young lady I was in a master’s French class with won. She and her husband were not Lotto savvy. Rather than take a lump sum payment of $11 million, they opted for $770,000 a year for 30 years. The interest alone, had they been careful with their initial spending, in five years time, would far exceed their yearly installment. I guess the lottery commission counts on people to not think things through; otherwise, I don’t believe the payout amounts would regularly be as high as they are. By the way, the husband of the young lady from French class was an accountant. He’ll never get my business that’s for sure. Also, she quit school six credits shy of obtaining her master’s degree. The rest of the class discussed this decision, and we all agreed, we’d never leave school with that kind of income. The young lady claimed she’d be harassed by her fellow students begging for handouts, a little too full of herself I think.
Besides myself, there are other unlikely participants in the weekly Florida Lotto and Powerball drawings. My ex-wife’s father, who has been rather prudent with his money throughout his life, giving him quite a sizable nest egg, plays when the pool is over $10 million. I guess he considers $3 million (the minimum pot) not worth the effort. I am not trying to justify what many, my former sociology classmate being one, consider to be a wasteful expenditure. I’m just saying, to me, it’s not wasteful. As I see it, I’ve already beaten more unlikely odds.
I don’t sit around waiting for Publishers Clearing House to call, nor do I use up my valuable time entering any and all contests that claim riches await me. Superstition dictates that I buy my lottery tickets from the same business establishment everyday. It’s located across the street from my house. If I ever win, Abdul (of course) the store owner, and his family will benefit handsomely, got to pay the vig you know. Besides, it’s the right thing to do. The winnings will do so much for so many others, that’s the real payoff, not what the money would do for me. Well, I’ve got to go. It’s Wednesday, that means Lotto and Powerball. Maybe they’ll be a neat follow-up blog next week. If not, I’ll keep trying to get published, keep trying to secure the next speaking engagement, and keep taking on other assorted jobs that require my expertise. It’s always good to have a back up plan.