Millions in His Grasp, And Yet...

By Rick Horowitz

Southern Wisconsin, the news guy is saying -- the winning Powerball ticket was bought in southern Wisconsin. I live in southern Wisconsin. Southern Wisconsin is where I bought my Powerball tickets.

The way I figure it, that makes me nearly rich -- or am I missing something?

Actually, by the time I heard where this latest record-breaking, multi-gazillion-dollar winning ticket had come from, I already knew where my own little slips of full-tilt fantasizing were going: right into the trash.

They'd already flashed the winning numbers on the screen. I hadn't matched all six numbers for the Big Prize. I hadn't matched five numbers for one of the smaller prizes. I hadn't matched four numbers. Or three numbers. Or even two numbers. There was no juice at all in my Powerball.

What a relief.

For a day and a half, you see, I'd been worrying that I'd played it all wrong.

"Cash or annuity?"

This was the counter clerk at the corner store. I'd already handed over my normal fifty cents for my normal morning paper, but on this particular morning I had something more in mind. Something big.

"And I'll take two of those Powerball tickets," I said, cool as a jazz band.

Let other people throw away their money on $30 million lotteries, or $60 million lotteries; it takes three digits in front of that comma to capture my attention. (Because I couldn't use $60 million?) At that very moment, in fact, they were (under)estimating the Powerball pot at $150 million; by the time they were done, it would be $195 million. Count me in.

"Cash or annuity?" asked the counter clerk. And seeing the look of total non-comprehension on my face, the look I always get when financial matters are being discussed, she asked it a second time, a different way.

"Do you want your $150 million over 25 years, or $75 million now?"

This is not a question I get asked very often. The kind of question I get asked very often is more like, "Do you want to Super Size that Extra Value Meal?"

Let me wait until I win, I figured -- then I'll decide.

"You have to choose now," the counter clerk explained, "before we can sell you the tickets."

It was barely 7 in the morning, and here I was, forced to figure out my entire fiscal future right this minute. Which would be better? A gradual payout, or a lump sum? How was I supposed to know? What's the inflation rate? What's the interest rate? (Forget that -- what's the mortality rate?) Do I diversify, or put it all into real estate? Or stocks? Or bonds? Or lunch meat?

Too many options, and too much riding on my answer. (It was 7 in the morning!) I froze. I shrugged. So she decided for me.

"Why don't we do one of each?"

I nodded -- one of each, sure. Why not? Then she tapped her keyboard and spewed two tickets, and tens of millions of dollars flew right out the window. Depending on which set of numbers became my winning ticket, that is, I'd either be major-rich a little at a time, or half as rich all at once. And the whole thing was as casual as "Regular or decaf?"

But what if I chose wrong? Or what if I had the right option attached to the wrong set of numbers? I'd have cost myself and my family plenty. They'd never forgive me. I'd never forgive me.

Which is why you can't imagine the pleasure I felt when the waiting was finally over and the winning numbers went up on the screen, and somebody else had to deal with all those excruciating questions.

You can't imagine the pleasure I felt.

Right.

5/22/98