My co-workers and I are talking about the lottery and what we’d do with the money.
Today, as I write this, is the drawing for the Powerball to win $550 million, apparently.
I wasn’t even aware of it until my mother mentioned in a text that if she won the Powerball, she would buy me new Christmas dishes.
She hadn’t bought a ticket, yet, but she said she might.
It is 4:30 now, and I don’t have one, either. I’ve only bought two or three lottery tickets in my life.
Sometimes my mom puts lottery tickets in our stockings. I think I won $19 one year.
I am not a risk-taker, so I don’t like gambling. I’ve never been to Tunica, either. My mother and I were once in a hotel attached to a casino, and we went long enough for me to win $27 by playing $1, and you would have thought I had won the Powerball.
The old woman near us with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth was not impressed a bit.
(There sure is a lot of difference between those commercials with beautiful women and handsome men and the reality of the people I saw in that casino.)
Anyway, back to lottery tickets. I love my job. I don’t daydream about winning the lottery and leaving it all behind, but it sure would be nice to have the option.
One co-worker mused that maybe we didn’t want to win it.
“Everybody wants to beg the lottery winner to give them some,” she said.
She also pointed out that in interviews she’s read, big winners say it’s overwhelming, and a lot of them blow right through the money. I will admit, if I have $1, I’m going to Sonic for Happy Hour.
My husband would help me invest it, I’m sure.
A male co-worker said if he won, he would give some money to all his friends and co-workers so we wouldn’t have to work, then get a place of his own to hunt and fish, and cabins to rent out or let his friends use. Awww.
Another co-worker is arguing about it with her 80-something-year-old mother, who is sure SHE’s going to win it.
The woman told her daughter, my co-worker, that she would buy 100 acres in San Diego and build a home for each of the children and grandchildren.
“I don’t want to live in San Diego,” my friend, who grew up in California, said emphatically.
The co-worker’s boss suggested an island.
This woman said yes, she’d prefer to live on St. Martin. I’m sure she and her mother can work out the details later.
Co-worker’s boss continued to conjure what she’d do: “I’d give a little bit to charity, maybe a lot, because think about it, what the heck do you need with that vast amount of money? It’s inconceivable,” she said, a la The Princess Bride. She’d do something for her kids. Buy a house, maybe.
“I’m in a quandary about what to do with my millions,” she said.
I can’t make up my mind, either — but I’d love to have the dilemma.
However, if you are reading me again next week, I didn’t win.
Or maybe I’m writing my column from my new beach house.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.