I won the lottery.
Well…sorta.
I don’t even actually play the lottery.
A good friend of mine won and, due to personal circumstances, asked me to claim the money as a favor.
In so doing, my friend promised me “a cut” from the winnings. Even without the promise of a “piece of the action” (note that I learned new terminology through this experience), I would have done the favor for this friend who has done so much for me and had rarely ever asked a favor of me. So there was no question in my mind that I would do it. Perhaps I should have thought it through a little more…
By the way, does winning a scratch-off ticket mean you’ve won the lottery? I don’t even know. I guess I still have more “gambling” terminology to learn. I think I’ve entered “the dark side”… And, believe me, that’s what it felt like as the favor unfolded.
First, I met my friend at a designated meeting place and was given a plain brown envelope with the winning ticket, along with a slip of paper, that had the address of the lottery office highlighted. That’s where the deal would “go down.” I was beginning to feel like I should have brought my gun…but that means I would have needed to buy one first.
This was getting more complicated by the minute because…my friend ALSO did not want me to tell anyone. Anyone at all. I had my 91-year-old mom with me. We were out running innocent errands together—YOU know—buying milk and Hallmark cards—ordinary, safe, and easy things like that. Could I make this one of the errands without her knowing? I wanted to keep the promise to my friend…
A scripture flashed across my mind–
“Everything that is secret will be brought out into the open. Everything that is hidden will be uncovered. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight. What you have whispered to someone behind closed doors will be shouted from the rooftops.” Luke 12:2,3.
Was this one of those “secret things?”
I put the highlighted address in my GPS and told my mom I needed to run a quick errand for my friend. She asked what it was. I gave a vague response about it being a “financial transaction.” That temporarily satisfied her.
We arrived at the destination—a parking lot where there were lots of stores. The GPS had led us to the general area and now it was up to me to find the specific place. I didn’t even know the name of the place! Would it say, “Florida Lottery”?
My mom wanted to help. All I had was a number. There were no numbers on the stores! I scanned the names—PetSmart, Winn Dixie, Office Depot—were any of these “fronts” for the legal gambling business called “the lottery”? Are they doing backroom deals? I started to sweat.
Mom said, “Can you give me a clue to the name of the place? That would make it a lot easier.” Hahaha. Ah, yes. It would, wouldn’t it? Poor thing.
“No, Mom. I don’t actually know the name, “ I responded.
Well…THAT sounded ridiculous! But she trusts me and didn’t want to pry into my business. She kept up the number search while she also began guessing names of businesses that pertain to finances—banks, investment firms—legitimate places for “financial dealings.” This had become a mystery game for her.
I finally resorted to calling the phone number highlighted along with the address. They informed me that I was right in front of the place!
What?! Was it invisible? Was there a magic phrase we have to say before it appears to us?
I squinted at the store names (I have middle-age eyesight) and finally saw a teensy tiny Florida Lottery logo on a small storefront window. Well…thank the Lord. I can get this deal over with! Put it behind me. Hopefully no one I know will see me go in! Like my pastor!
I parked far away with the front of the car pointed in the opposite direction from the storefront so mom couldn’t see where I was going. Oh what we do to keep our promise to a friend.
I told Mom to keep her doors locked, and as I walked towards the entrance, holding my unmarked brown envelope with the winning ticket, it suddenly occurred to me why the place might be so subtly marked. Of course! Anyone walking in here is in all likelihood holding a winning ticket! Oh my gosh! I still might need that gun. At the least, some pepper spray.
My heart rate accelerated as I glanced around and started walking faster. Dusk was descending.
As I stepped inside, relief flooded me. Never had I been so happy to enter a government office!
I looked around to take in surroundings similar to a drivers license place.
There were about 4 rows of plastic chairs—our tax dollars at work—for people to wait. Only, this place was empty except for one couple sitting in Row 1, clinging to each other and whispering. They looked over at me and we smiled tentative smiles at each other and I knew their thoughts were the same as mine: “How much did you win?”
Except I also wanted to blurt out, “I DON’T PLAY THE LOTTERY! I VOTED AGAINST IT !”
But this didn’t seem like the appropriate place for this righteous declaration. Might seem a bit hypocritical. Ha. The favor for my friend suddenly took on new shadings and layers that I had not foreseen!
I walked to the front and slid my ticket under the glass partition, set up much like a bank or how you pay for a movie ticket. But here there was just one teller. At least…only one who was working the front—or working at all!
There were several employees at partitioned work spaces but there was a bit of a party atmosphere with lots of conversation and laughing—employees standing at the cubicles of others.
My attention was drawn back to the person helping me as a form was pushed out for me to fill in and I was also told to write my personal info on my ticket. It occurred to me how naive it was of me to walk in here with a winning ticket that I had not even filled out! Such an easy mark! It could have been claimed by anyone!!
I sat down and filled out the simple form in about…2 minutes. If that. This should be over quickly. Good. I could get out of here fast.
I was given a number. I looked at it and a small laugh escaped my mouth. #2. Really?! I never would have guessed! And…is this absolutely necessary?
No laughter or smile from the lottery employee.
I walked over to the seats. I had my choice of all the best seats.
I looked around to see if there might be a confessional. I’m not Catholic but I still felt the need for one. Instead I was assaulted with “everything lottery.” I focused in front of me again—watching the employees laughing while we waited for our numbers to be called: #1 and #2. This could be a long wait. We’re so far down the list. ***eyeroll***
My eyes finished their long roll and then darted back over to the left where there was a machine loaded with colorful scratch-off tickets similar to the one in my brown envelope. I quickly scanned and found the one that matched the style and design of my winning ticket. (Notice that it’s mine now).
I felt something come over me. A thought forms… maybe we are “on a roll.” (More of that gambling vocabulary).
I started digging around in my purse, looking for my wallet and some $1 bills to feed the hungry machine–the machine that eats money! Ahhhhh. Perhaps this is the reason for the wait! To let temptation do its work. The apple on the tree.
” Resist. Resist.” I hear the still, small voice. Oh my gosh. Am I really a hypocrite? Taking “dirty” money? Does it count to take the winnings of another? PLEASE call my number to stop all the noise and conflict in my mind and before I come to the conclusion that this is somehow wrong.
A loud voice saying: “#1” cut into my thoughts.
The couple next to me—still clinging to each other—walked up to the window as one unit—a solid fortress. I’m vulnerable in my solitary state. Sigh. Surely one of those happy employees would come man one of the other windows. The couple submitted their form and then sat back down. A check was being prepared for them.
Will my number—#2!!—ever be called? I stand up, pace, then go get a drink from the water fountain, hoping my movement will catch someone’s eye and remind them of my presence—remind them they are at work with a customer!
A man sees me. Our eyes meet.
He quickly breaks eye contact and continues his jovial conversation with another employee.
Another thought occurs to me. What if closing time comes? You know how it is with government offices. Will they tell me to come back another day? I have been chased out of a library before…at straight up 5 o’clock. Wouldn’t even let me check my book out! I simply can’t go through this pressure again!
I resigned myself to the wait—holding tight to my #2 ticket and form, eyes straight ahead—not wanting to see the lists and photos of exuberant winners that might lead me into temptation again. “Oh God. Lead me not into temptation.” I silently prayed.
FINALLY, someone strolled to the microphone. Yes. A microphone in this tiny space where I think a whisper could be heard all the way to the back. Surely he won’t use the microphone. He looked out over all the empty chairs—not making eye contact with the only other person there who hasn’t been called—me!—perhaps using his imagination that “the stadium” is full and his job is big and important.
And then he said it. Dragging out the syllables. It was his shining moment. “Number two.”
I wanted to bust out laughing.
Instead, with mild drama, I looked to the right and then to the left, looked down at my ticket with the #2 on it, held it up and exclaimed, “That’s ME!”
He didn’t laugh. Not even a crack of a smile.
I walked up and handed him my ticket and form. He took the minute to “process” it and then told me it would be a 15 minute wait.
Back to the chair of temptation.
But, no. I decided to wait outside where the temptation would abate. Flee from evil. Resist temptation. More bits & pieces of memorized scripture flit through my mind.
I checked on my mom who was oblivious to the battle of good & evil waging warfare in my mind. We chatted a bit and then I started walking back, hoping the fact that only 2 checks have to be printed, the wait will not be as long as stated.
The clinging couple was leaving the building with bigger, more relaxed smiles, no longer clinging. They had their check—whatever the amount might be, I didn’t know.
In passing they exclaimed to me, “Congratulations!”
I responded in kind to them but I felt that hypocritical spirit coming back on me and I again felt compelled to confess to them that I wasn’t legitimately in their camp and that “I don’t play the lottery!” But it’s far too complicated of a story to explain. I let them have their unfettered moment of joy and feelings of camaraderie.
I went back in to wait.
I was finally called up to the front to get my check.
It was…beautiful!! Colorful! (So THIS is where some of the tax money goes! Beautiful lottery checks!)
And it was such a large amount! Made out to MY NAME!
To ME!
It’s mine! All mine.
A movie clip showing Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit played out in color in my mind: “My precious. Mine. All mine. Come to me, my precious.”
Friend? WHAT friend?
Hey. Who’s doing all the dirty work here—the dangerous work, the shameful work!
I took the check—MY check—to the car.
Mom still had no clue to all that had just transpired. Can she see the transformation in me? Can she feel it? Do I look like…Gollum? (Hobbit book/movie reference again…) Is there a shadow of darkness and guile over my once innocent face?
I tried to calm down from my high tower of power and possession and loosen the grip of greed and drive to the bank where I will deposit the check and then proceed to write my friend a check, leaving the agreed upon portion in my account.
As I pulled into the drive-through line, another fleeting thought occurred to me—this time about bank protocol. Surely they are trained in privacy. I would think that they are told to keep a deadpan face no matter what checks or amounts they have come in—and especially if there are other people in the vehicle or around them inside the bank.
Right????
Ummmm….wrong.
The tube shot in with “my precious” and I watched as the teller pulled out the colorful check. I breathed a silent prayer for her to also breathe her hopefully silent vow to not blurt anything out.
Was it right of me to pray and expect an answer to this?
Well, whether right or wrong, I did not get the answer I was looking for.
Her eyes got as big as saucers and she broke out into a cheek-splitting smile as she squealed, “CONGRATULATIONS!! WHERE did you buy your ticket?! Over there at Publix?” as she animatedly gestured to the nearby grocery store.
My mouth dropped open and out of the corner of my eye I saw my mom’s head snap quickly towards me.
I hung my head, closed my eyes, and sighed.
BUSTED!
Next hurdle to jump? Our CPA. I already have my sticky note ready: “I do NOT play the lottery. I just WON the lottery. No questions, please!”