Not Quite Winners

About a month after me son Charlie mustered out of the Army, as we sat anticipating some waste of time on TV one night, we decided we wanted pizza. As we drove to the pizza parlor we came across dozens, maybe a hundred, small pieces of paper strewn across the street. "What are they?" Charlie wondered allowed.

"They look like lottery slips," I responded. While Michigan like many other states still has scratch offs, many lottery tickets by then were printed by computer and had bar code identification.

My son asked, "Want to pick them up?" I knew what he thinking, because I was curious about the same thing. But I said, "They've gotta be losers or they wouldn't be all over the street." Still, an overlooked small winner might pay for our food, and lottery tickets are bearer items. Maybe we might luck up.

I pulled over the van and we began collecting what were indeed lottery slips. And there were several dozen. Once gathered, we went to a nearby party store to check them out.

Fortunately, with the bar codes, we were able to check the tickets at a scanner rather than be pests to the clerk. With each scanned paper I think Charlie and I both held our breaths slightly, hoping for some bit of good news, our anticipation oddly building with every loser. Perhaps the next would be the one! Sadly, there were no major or minor winners. Our effort was for nil.

Still, the thought that maybe we had passed up on some small windfall would have haunted me, and maybe my son, until this day. I'm glad we at least tried. And we did get all that litter off the street. 

Cash is King

For awhile there, I was debit-carding nearly everything. It was simply too easy. But I'm consciously using cash more and more again, at least on smaller or routine purchases. Why? As I become increasingly libertarian and realize that everything electronic is tracked and stored, I find myself thinking, admittedly with a bit of a chip on my shoulder, that it's nobody's business what type of coffee I chose this morning or what sales entice me. Also, I can figure things out for myself without being inundated by ads for something I bought once, thank you very much.

Still, I debit one thing nearly always: gas. That's partly because you never know exactly how much it'll take to fill the tank, but mostly because I don't want to deal with people. In particular, the people buying lottery tickets at the cash register. Or, worse, the folks who can't figure out which candy they want, or what flavor tiny cigar.

Yes, yes, yes, they have the right to be there and all that. If they happened to get in line in front me, that's their good luck. But, really now. You won't care what candy you had in twenty minutes, nor what smoke you had matter. And if you want to give away money, just give it to me. Why bother Lansing with extra lottery money which ain't helping the schools anyway, despite their claims?

All right, I'm becoming a curmudgeon and a libertarian. They kind of go together anyway.

Tickets From Scratch

I can be a curmudgeon. I can be impatient. I can be astounded, outraged, and incredulous all at once too. Would you like to know, as my old friend Cloyce might say, "How could that be?"

It could be like this: I walked into a gas station the other day to pre-pay for my gas. I am increasingly using a debit card at the pump to avoid precisely the type of situations which I then encountered.

The woman in front of me was buying $100 worth of scratch off lottery tickets. That's frustrating when waiting in line for something simple - give me thirty bucks on pump four please - but it's how things are. I can accept that. And at least the woman asked for five $20 tickets; she could have wanted 100 one dollar scratch-offs, right? So it should still have been a quick transaction. 

Note the operative term, should have been. The attendant slid the tickets through the slot below the glass, and was given a debit or charge card for the purchase. But then - I still can't really believe it, and perhaps you can't fathom it - she slides them back along with a quarter and tells the man, "Scratch them off for me." She doesn't ask; she orders it. 

I think all three of us in line behind her openly groaned. The look she gave us in return in was, basically, um, ah, blank you. I was here first.

The attendant, equally astounded, took a moment to react, and I don't blame him. How exactly do you react when faced with an inherently bizarre demand? He finally shoved them back out at the purchaser and said, "You scratch them."

She grabbed her tickets and stormed out, all the time muttering about how rude people are. One guy behind me clapped as she left.

I should have joined him. But what was in it's turn funny was the attendant, as I paid him, held up the woman's coin and remarked with a grin, "And she forgot her quarter!"

Luck no luck

As I took my morning constitutional today I came across a slew of lottery tickets strewn across the road. This has actually happened to me once before. My eldest son and I spied a ton of lottery slips across a neighborhood intersection once and we stopped and picked them up. We took them to a nearby party store to check them out. You never know, right? They're bearer items, and even an errant ten bucks buys a pizza.

Alas, after several minutes of scanning the tickets we were not rich. We went and got a pizza anyway. Why not?

So, methinks, so maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time I will be able to get free pizza. I gathered all the slips and on returning home checked them out on my computer. And you know what?

I'm still gonna have to pay for my pizza.

Double or nothing

Well, I did not win the billion dollar lottery. But this morning was a good morning just the same.

While returning from Electric Eel I stopped at a McDonald's in Bellfontaine, Ohio for breakfast. I ordered a meal with a large coffee. The cashier gave me my coffee and said someone would bring my food to my table. So I went and sat with my drink and began surfing the net on my phone.

A few minutes later a young woman brought me my meal...with another coffee. "Uh, they gave me my coffee already," I said.

"Oh," she replied. Then she smiled and said, "Do you want another? I just have to pour it out if I take it back."

"Sure," says I. No $1.6 billion dollars, but hey.

A couple hours later I was at a rest area and decided I wanted a candy bar. I put my money in the machine and made my selection. Lo and behold, two candy cars fall out of the slot. You know what that means?

I'm supposed to play today's lottery because I obviously wasn't intended to win yesterday.

The other time I didn't win the lottery

Memories beget memories, don't they? And so yesterday's blog reminded me of another father/son lottery tale. This time however I was the father and my son was in tow. It isn't quite so hilarious either. But it's still a good story.

About a month after Charlie mustered out of the Army, as we sat anticipating some waste of time on TV one night, we decided we wanted pizza. As we drove to the pizza parlor we came across dozens, maybe a hundred, small pieces of paper strewn across the street. "What are they?" Charlie wondered allowed.

"They look like lottery slips," I responded. While Michigan like many other states still has scratch offs, many lottery tickets by then were printed by computer and had bar code identification.

My son asked, "Want to pick them up?" I knew what he thinking, because I was curious about the same thing. But I said, "They've gotta be losers or they wouldn't be all over the street." Still, an overlooked small winner might pay for our food, and lottery tickets are bearer items. Maybe we might luck up...

I pulled over the van and we began collecting what were indeed lottery slips. And there were several dozen. Once gathered, we went to a nearby party store to check them out.

Fortunately, with the bar codes, we were able to check the tickets at a scanner rather than be pests to the clerk. With each scanned paper I think Charlie and I both held our breaths slightly, hoping for some bit of good news, our anticipation oddly building with every loser. Perhaps the next one would be the one! Sadly, there were no major or minor winners. Our effort was for nil.

Still, the thought that maybe we had passed up on some small windfall would have haunted me, and maybe my son, until this day. I'm glad we at least tried. And we did get all that litter off the street.

What I could buy with enough money

What would I do if I had all the money in the world?

I'd get lawn service before anything else. I hate yard work with a passion.

I would buy a Stradivarius, but only allow Orange Blossom Special to be played on it. Okay, and The Devil Went Down to Georgia. It's just a fancy fiddle after all, isn't it?

I would completely rehabilitate the Old Barn. Lord knows she needs it.

I'd donate heavily to St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital.

I'd buy seasons tickets for one year only for the Detroit Tigers, and go to every game that year. And make someone else bring me hot dogs of course. Hell, I might even ride the Ferris Wheel and Merry Go Round. Or at least pay for a couple hundred kids to ride them.

Yeah, my dreams are simple.

Moms are such moms

Moms.

I was lumbering back from the old barn yesterday morn and Mother happened to be perched on her front stoop. O'course I sat with her for a spell, just to chat. "The lottery's pretty big tonight," she comments after a few pleasantries.

"That's what I hears, yes," replies I.

She asks, seemin' to merely inquire to the air about her, "What d'the tickets cost?"

Answers I, "Two bucks each".

Mother commences to fumble through her wallet and thrusts four dollar bills at me. "When you get yours buy me two," she blithely commands. Funny, I'd naught spoken about purchasing any a'tall.

Still, then, I dutifully purchased a pair o'Powerball tickets that afternoon (what kind of boy would not do such a simple favor for his old mum?) and delivered them back to her. And she called it, I purchased me own as well. I was at the party store anyway, eh?

Perhaps she's a millionairess by now. One that knows how much her boy loves her as well too, no doubt.