Mister Brisbane: How I won Lotto
The limo, limelight, champagne and cucumber sandwiches were — briefly — all mine
Update: Sadly, I was not one of the two winners who shared the $120 million pot on February 24. But I did win $10.80 which, I assure you, will not change my life.
With a record Powerball prize looming, it’s a good opportunity for me to tell you about the time I won Lotto.
It was in the early noughties and I remember it well. How could I forget?
A gleaming white limousine pulled up outside my place and I was whisked off to Gold Lotto headquarters in Woolloongabba, where I was feted with small cakes, bubbly and a very large cheque.
Sadly, the cheque was worthless, and I soon returned to my office richer for the experience, but not in the bank account where it really counts.
I was working for the Sunday Mail at the time, and I was writing a feature article about what it’s like to win Lotto.
I learned that the winner doesn’t actually get their hands on the money for two weeks, but they are given a leaflet with advice about financial management.
I also learned that some freshly minted millionaires love the full-on limo-and-champagne experience, but others want a more low-key experience. One bloke didn’t even bother to turn up — he sent his accountant instead.
And I learned that many registered winners simply don’t believe it when they get the phone call telling the of their good fortune. They think it’s a wind up.
In those circumstances, the Lotto people used to advise the recipient to look up the number for the Golden Casket office in the phone book (remember those?), call it and ask for the person they’ve just been speaking to.
I imagine it doesn’t really sink in until you see all those zeroes on your bank statement and you’re wondering what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.
It’s here that I must caution that my chances of winning Lotto — and yours — are very slim indeed.
A mathematician told me that nobody in his line of work plays the lottery because they know the odds are stacked against them.
And a friend of mine, who refuses to gamble at all, reckons Lotto is “a tax on the greedy”. Or, in his less charitable moments, the stupid.
That may be true. But when I buy a ticket in the lottery, or an art union, I’m buying permission to wonder about the life I might live, and the things I could so for myself, my family, my friends and for other good causes.
As another friend says: “What do the people who don’t buy Lotto tickets think about as they drift off to sleep at night?”
P.S. What would you do if you did win $120 million? And who would you tell? Would you keep it a secret from everyone, even your nearest and dearest?
P.P.S. Buying Lotto tickets is gambling. Don’t spend what you can’t afford to lose.