The Philanthropist

I didn’t deserve it.

I mean, I never played the lottery.

Well, almost never.

Fellow at work, he asked me to buy him a lottery ticket in the small town where I lived.

"It is better luck," he said, winking toward the odds.

So I bought myself a lottery ticket as well.

It hit.

Not the big prize, but one down the ladder a step, $12,000.

"The state will mail you the check," the gas station cashier said. "We can’t pay that out of here," motioning toward the cash register.

It made sense.

I know. I should have told the family.

And I would have, had it been more, like a million say, or a hundred thousand.

I didn’t even tell the guy who asked me to buy him a ticket. He would be resentful.

In the break room he checked the ticket I bought him against the newspaper listing of winning lottery numbers.

He wadded up the ticket and threw it at the wastebasket, missing it.

"One of these times," he warned. "One of these times I am going to check the numbers and be one happy man."

page 2

In a factory like the one I worked in, there are a lot of hardship cases. Kind of like his. Hoping…hoping…hoping to win the lottery to get himself out of the life he was leading.

Some days went by before I got the check in the mail from the state lottery commission.

The bank held it till the check cleared.

It was a happy day when I checked the ATM and the money was available to withdraw.

Like I said, I felt kind of like I didn’t deserve it.

I mean, I played just ‘cause this other guy asked me to buy a ticket.

I thought about it for a long while.

I didn’t spend a penny. Nor did I tell the wife and daughter.

If I didn’t deserve it, they didn’t either.

In the break room at work one of the female line workers broke down, put her head on a table, and started crying.

Her daughter was enroute to Kentucky to get her baby back.

This mother needed to go. But she could not afford to go and lose her wages.

After work I went to the bank and withdrew a thousand bucks.

Then I put it into a bank envelope and took it to work the next day.

"Somebody wants you to have this," I said to her, sliding the envelope across the table to her.

Her face turned happy when she opened the envelope.

"Who is it?" she said. "Who done this?"

I looked sheepish.

page 3

"I know it ain’t you," Harold. "You’re always borrowing money for the candy machine."

I put on a blank mask.

"Who, Harold? Who done this kind thing?"

The next day I noticed she was not at work.

The supervisor had a temp in her place.

I didn’t ask, but I wanted to know what she said when she called in.

Guy across from me, putting a different piece on the machine, was kind of friends with the supervisor. So I asked him to ask, just pretending I was curious.

He came back later. "She didn’t even bother calling in. Boss hasn’t heard from her."

That night at home I was reading in the paper about a family burned out of their house. The photo showed the father’s face, so distraught.

The next day, after work, I withdrew three thousand dollars from the account, put it into a bank envelope, and drove to the burned out house.

A woman and a small boy were in the driveway.

"Lady, I read about your fire. A very nice person asked me to deliver this to you."

The woman examined the contents of the envelope, and in a rush thanked me and headed for a car parked at the end of the driveway.

She and the boy drove away.

There was a follow up story to the fire in the newspaper the next day, with a photo. The women in the photo was not the woman I handed the envelope to in the driveway.

Wife said to me, "Harold, you are not even eating your meat."

"Must have something wrong with my stomach," I said.

page 4

Luckily, I did the books in the family, so my wife rarely looked at a bank statement.

If she had she would have seen a $12,000 deposit, a $1,000 withdrawal, and a $3,000 withdrawal.

When this guy at work asked me to buy him another lottery ticket I bought myself one as well.

Mine didn’t hit, nor did his.

At the break table we both acted miserable. For different reasons.

"When I win, I will put most of it in my savings account," he said. "Just spend a little."

Pretty good advice, I thought.

I realized I needed to spend the rest of the lottery winnings within 12 days, which was the end of the period for the bank statement. If I could do all my business on one statement it would gradually disappear into the past. I would never have to explain.

Spending on myself? Then I would have to tell. This money came by chance. I didn’t deserve it. I wanted to spend it in a way that would make other people happy.

For some stupid reason my co-worker came into view. This pitiful guy kept hoping to hit the lottery but never did.

So I concocted a plot. I would buy him a lottery ticket the next time he asked. Then I would tell him he won, hand him a wad of cash, and explain that I lost the ticket but collected at the point of sale before I lost it.

"Where is the ticket?" was all he said.

"There are four thousand dollars in that envelope," I said.

"Where is the ticket? I might have won a million bucks and you’re giving me a measly four grand?"

His eyes had the steely glint of a Harley Davison.

page 5

Subtract $4,000.

Now there was only $4,000 left of my lottery winnings.

Daughter needed braces. Wife needed a car with fewer than 145,000 miles.
House needed gutters.

Twelve thousand would have gone a long way to paying for that stuff.

At dinner I heard myself say to daughter, "We have got to get those braces for you before your teeth can’t be straightened."

Wife sat back in her chair like she had just witnessed a Biblical miracle.
Daughter jumped out of her chair and threw a big hug on me. Her friends had braces. Now she would have hers.

Next day the fellow at work asked me to buy him a lottery ticket.

I did, later that day after work.

"You want one, too," the gas station clerk asked.

"You know I do," I said. "I deserve to win. Big!"