It was the early 90’s and ‘lottery fever’ was sweeping through the state of Florida. The prize amount was some astronomical figure and co-workers banded together to form informal partnerships to purchase large amounts of tickets in hope of winning.
My client at the time, lets call him “Ron”, was a charismatic manager and extremely well liked by all at his firm. Different groups within his firm vied to get him to join their lottery partnerships, but Ron deflected all their advances with the same reply: “I am going to win this all myself.”
Well, on Sunday night they announced the winning lottery numbers and informed the public that ONE winning ticket had been sold. On Monday morning ,on his way to the office, Ron stopped and purchased a lottery ticket for the NEXT drawing with the exact number sequence of the wining ticket.
When he arrived at work that day, Ron brusquely blew by people he normally would have stopped and engaged in conversation and quickly went into his office and closed the door. This was a door that was NEVER closed.
There was a buzz on the floor of the office…….what is up with Ron? This was totally out of character. Finally, the office clique nominated a sacrificial lamb to go up to the closed door and find out what was really going on with Ron.
The sacrificial lamb walked up tentatively to the closed door, knocked gingerly, and was told to come in. When he entered ,Ron had his back to him and was staring out his window sighing.
“Ron, is everything okay? The staff is a little concerned.”
Ron pointed to his desk drawer that was partially opened and laying there was a lottery ticket with the numbers that every Floridian now knew by heart. Ron put his fingers to his lips in a shushing sound and said “Please don’t tell anybody.”
That secret lasted maybe 30 seconds after the visitor left Ron’s office. My flight got in around 10-ish that morning and I was picking Ron up for lunch around noon. When I got to his office, there was a line outside his office waiting for a personal audience, much like you would expect to see for a revered religious figure. When I went into his office, Ron could not get off the premises fast enough. It was like he was bathed in a cold sweat.
When we got in my rental car the first thing he told me was “Jim, I screwed up big time.” He unfolded the tale of what he envisioned to be the ultimate practical joke on his co-workers. Then he told me how it backfired on him. “Did you see the lines outside my office?” As soon as word got around (less than a New York minute) he was inundated by requests from fellow employees for help and assistance. The majority involved critical family health issues they were dealing with; painfully personal and gut wrenching requests like: “My 14-year-old son needs a lung transplant. And we can’t afford it, can you help us? ”
Sitting there listening to people opening up about their personal anguish was bad enough for Ron ,but things got even worse when their General Counsel called from Cleveland to advise him on how to take his winnings and minimize his tax liability.
Talk about a practical joke backfiring. Ron went from being one of the most liked and respected employees in his company to a total and utter pariah. It was no surprise that the next time I visited that client, Ron had moved on. I always wondered what happened to him; he made no effort to stay in touch. Now, some 25 years later, the whole country in the grip of Powerball mania and I wonder if he is reliving his worse nightmares. Wherever you are, Ron, I wish you the best.
