The One-Dollar Lottery Ticket
/A janitor buys a lottery ticket, with unforeseen results.
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Edward Culbertson had never bought a lottery ticket before. Some of his friends bought tickets all the time, and occasionally they would win something: a dollar or two, or even ten dollars. Edward didn't think that any of them were ahead of the game.
He considered himself thrifty, and he needed to be, since he didn't make much money. Then on that breezy October afternoon he found a dollar bill crumpled in a jacket pocket. Since it was breezy, he needed a jacket, and there it was, money that somehow seemed like a sign.
Normally Edward did not believe in signs, but on that day he did. There might be a reason for the dollar in his pocket. What could he do with it? Not much. Then he remembered his buddies and their lottery tickets. "That's the ticket," he said to himself and laughed at the cleverness of his pun. And he was off to the grocery store to buy one single lottery ticket. It was Saturday, and he didn't have to go to work. Edward was a janitor, and though he did a thorough job at whatever task he had, he knew that janitors were not high up on the social ladder. We should be, he often thought. What would people do without us?
Some super-duper reward was pending, he discovered when he arrived at the Giant Falcon, his town's major supermarket that seemed to have everything, including a bank, a dry cleaner, and a place to buy lottery tickets. A rather long line of eager customers waited to buy their tickets, and he overheard someone say "five million," if his hearing was right, and it wasn't always all that good. Finally it was his turn.
"One ticket, please."
"I assume it's for the Super-Duper drawing. We have different kinds of tickets, you know." The middle-aged woman at the counter seemed to know that Edward didn't buy tickets that often. The guy in front of him must be some sort of expert; he had bought twenty tickets.
"Yes, that's right, one ticket for the Super-Duper."
"Are you sure you only want one?"
"Yeah. I'm not much of a gambler."
In a few seconds he was in possession of a ticket, which he placed in his wallet.
On the night of the Super-Duper drawing, Edward was in his apartment, tired after a day of cleaning toilets and mopping floors. He turned on the TV and saw that the lottery drawing was about to begin. He reached for his wallet and pulled out his ticket. Of course, he wouldn't win. In a way he hoped the winner would be someone who had already squandered hundreds or even thousands of dollars on lottery tickets.
A beautiful blonde woman was about to read off the numbers of the winning ticket. She began, and suddenly he saw that they were the numbers on his ticket. This can't be happening, he thought. The last number will be different, it had to be. But no, the last number was also correct. He had won the jackpot.
The next day he called in sick. No more janitor's life for me, he almost sang as he put down the phone. Then he put on his best clothes, such as they were, and went back to the store where he had purchased the winning ticket. He filled out the papers and surrendered his ticket, confident that even after taxes he would be a rich man.
Within the hour, people were calling his apartment, people from the radio station and the television station. "We're in front of your apartment house," one TV reporter shouted into his phone. Edward looked out the window. "I'll come down."
He was a celebrity. The reporters wanted to know what he would do with the money.
"Are you going to quit your job?"
"Quit my job? I guess so."
"How will you spend your time?"
"I don't know. I don't know." He scratched his head and was suddenly aware that he had to make plans. "This is all so new to me. I guess I'll have to do some serious thinking about it."
The next day he called his boss at the Acme Janitorial Company and gave him two weeks' notice.
Joe, the manager, was surprised. "Heck, I thought you'd leave right away."
"Aren't you supposed to give two weeks' notice?"
"Well, sure, but I don't know that the rule applies to millionaires. It's nice of you to give me notice. A lot of people sure wouldn't do that."
"Yeah, well, I owe you. You've been a good guy to work for."
"OK, I'll see you later. Maybe I can find a mansion or two for you to clean, so you can get used to your new life."
So Edward continued to work at his job, and he was on radio and television again, still not sure what he was going to do with his millions.
"Don't you think you need to make plans?" asked Marvin Mettle, the morning talk-show host.
"Yes, I guess so. Just not sure."
People were calling Edward constantly, people he knew and people he didn't know. Women wrote to him, high-school classmates he remembered plus other women from far and near that he had never met. He received two proposals in one week.
He called his sister. "Becky, this is turning out to be a strange time. I get phone calls from people who know me and people who don't know me. Is my phone number on the internet somewhere? And I get letters from people I know or used to know and people I've never met. Even proposals. Closest I've ever come to marriage."
"You ought to get out more, Ed. But I don't want you to get trapped by a gold digger. Better watch out for those women!"
"Don't worry. How are the kids?"
"Doing OK, all four of them. Rambunctious, as usual. Why don't you come for dinner next weekend?"
"Why don't I take all of you out for dinner, since I won the lottery?"
"That'd be fine, too. But don't get too full of yourself now that you're a rich guy. Guess you're not working now."
"No, I'm still working. Gave two weeks' notice. Joe seemed to be happy about that."
"Well, you're a good worker. And reliable. Nice of you to do that."
"Becky, I just don't know what I'm going to do with all that money."
She laughed. "You'll figure it out."
The next day when he reported to Joe's office Joe looked worried.
"Something up?"
"Yeah, you might say that. Wagner's putting the business up for sale."
"How come?"
"Says he's too old to worry about it. Not that he has a lot to worry about. I'm the one who does the worrying, so he doesn't have to."
Edward laughed. Then he surprised both Joe and himself with his next comment. "I could buy the business with some of my lottery winnings. But only if you stay on. And if you let me be more involved than Wagner. I need to do something with my time."
"Sure. Are you going to keep cleaning?" Joe seemed to find this extremely funny.
Edward thought for a moment. "Maybe, when I feel like it. But I think this office needs to be remodeled. Looks kind of shabby. And maybe we could expand, find more clients, enlarge the territory. Lots of possibilities. And let's hire a secretary for this growing business."
"Sounds good. You'd better call Wagner right away and make an offer. But first find out his asking price. Then go under, till you both find the right selling price."
The newspaper and television and radio people were still questioning Edward from time to time about his plans, but they were rapidly losing interest in a man who couldn't figure out what to do with five million dollars. But it didn't take long for old Mr. Wagner to come to an agreement about the selling price. Edward decided to call Marvin Mettle, the talk-show host.
"So, Mr. Culbertson, what's happening? Did you figure out what to do with your winnings?"
"Yes, I bought the cleaning service where I've been working as a janitor."
"No kidding. Not very glamorous, if you don't mind my saying so. But whatever floats your boat. Maybe that'll stop those women from proposing to you. Guess you're not going to become a playboy cruising on a yacht in the Mediterranean."
"Right. I like keeping things clean. Makes me feel needed. I'll still help out when I can, and when they want me."
"You're something, Edward. Maybe you should be a model for the rest of us. Thanks for calling. I'll open the discussion up to my listeners. So, listeners, what do you think of Edward Culbertson's decision to buy the cleaning service and to even keep cleaning from time to time?"
Edward turned off both his phone and the radio. He didn't want to know what people thought about his decision. He was satisfied.
By Anita G. Gorman
From: United States
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