Page 11 of Birds of a Feather

She laughed as she approached me. ‘I’ll bet a new car is at the top of your shopping list.’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘It’s so great to meet you, Beth,’ she said, shaking my hand with a vigour that seemed at odds with her tiny frame. ‘I’m Amarita Patel. You can think of me as your lotto win concierge, if you like.’

I wondered how a person found themselves in such a career. I didn’t remember seeing ‘Lotto win concierge’ in our careers guide handbooks at school.

‘You must be so excited,’ she continued, grinning so enthusiastically that the veins on her neck ribboned from her jaw to her shoulders.

‘I’m … I’m … I guess I’m still in shock,’ I stuttered. ‘This was actually the first lotto ticket I’ve ever bought. I don’t even enter the office syndicates. So it’s all come as a bit of a surprise.’

‘Your first ticket? My goodness. No wonder you’re in shock. Well, let’s get you inside where we can talk it through and get all the paperwork sorted.’

We walked towards the building, and Amarita used a swipe card to open the heavy front door. The young woman behind the reception desk, who was wearing a headset that made her look like a 90s pop star performing on stage, looked up from her computer and beamed at me.

‘Welcome,’ she said, bringing her hands together in a dainty applause. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Th– thanks,’ I stammered awkwardly.

I followed Amarita down a corridor lined with photos of smiling people holding oversized novelty cheques and standing next to cars festooned with giant red bows. Every third or fourth office door was open and, as we passed, the occupants called out offerings of ‘congratulations’ and ‘good for you’.

When we arrived at a boardroom at the end of the corridor, Amarita gestured for me to enter.

‘I’ll just run and grab our CEO, Leo, so that he can authorise the transfer of funds,’ she said. ‘You make yourself comfortable.’

I sat on one of the twenty-or-so chairs that surrounded a giant mahogany board table. Like the hallway, the boardroom walls were adorned with photos that captured the moments when peoples’ lives had changed.

One of the photos showed an elderly couple holding a cheque for $2.76 million made out to ‘Mary and William Finkelstein’. Mary balanced her half of the cheque on her walking frame while William clutched his half with hands disfigured by arthritis. I wondered what motivated Mary and William to buy lotto tickets at their advanced age. How many years would they even have to spend their new-found fortune? Based on my experience, the shock of winning might have actually reduced the amount of time they had to enjoy it.

In a frame to Mary and William’s right, ‘Simon Black’ was giving a thumbs up to the camera with one hand, while clutching a $3.8 million cheque with his name on it with the other. To his right, ‘Barry Furnish’ was poking his smiling face over the top of a cheque made out for $30.5 million. His dirty, high-vis work gear gave the impression he’d come straight from work. I wondered how long he’d waited after the picture was taken to hand in his notice.

Amarita reappeared with the news that Leo would be along shortly, and explained that she was responsible for coordinating the handover of funds. She also provided post-win support, such as dealing with the media and carrying out long-term wellbeing checks. She explained that wellbeing checks were recommended for winners of large amounts, to avoid the effects of ‘Sudden Wealth Syndrome’ – an affliction that can lead to anxiety, guilt and isolation, as well as poor personal and financial decisions.

‘Some of the stories are truly heartbreaking,’ she said sadly. ‘Couples fight over the money in divorce courts; families and friends turn on each other; people develop drug and alcohol problems or gambling habits; and some end up broke after they buy houses they can’t afford to maintain and cars they can’t afford to insure.’

I scanned the beaming faces of Mary and William, Simon and Barry in the pictures on the wall. Their smiles conveyed feelings of joy, relief, excitement and optimism; I wondered what had become of them and their fortunes.

However, I was comforted by my ability to make rational and measured decisions, no matter how much money was involved.

‘Hello, hello.’

Leo Phillips’s voice reverberated around the room before he stepped over the threshold. He was about seven feet tall and muscular, with spectacularly white teeth. He reminded me of a basketball player. Or a game show host.

‘You must be Beth. Welcome,’ he boomed. He shook my hand and then sat down and placed his right foot on his opposite knee. His feet were enormous. ‘Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?’

‘This is the first lotto ticket Beth has ever bought,’ Amarita said.

‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘To be honest, I subscribe to the theory that we create our own luck. So I didn’t think in a million years that I would win lotto.’

‘You know, Beth,’ Leo started, his brow furrowing slightly. ‘Mark Twain said: “Fortune knocks at every man’s door once in a life, but in a good many cases the man is in a neighbouring saloon and does not hear her.”’

‘I guess I did pay attention to fortune knocking this time,’ I said, wondering whether deciphering the proverb of a famous eighteenth-century author was a condition of receiving my winnings. ‘Or maybe she used the doorbell.’

Leo laughed, and then he got to work finalising the paperwork and funds transfer.

~

I stared at the spreadsheet titled ‘Lotto funds distribution’, which was open on my laptop in front of me. I had set up a formula to experiment with different scenarios of how to divide the money between seven columns: gifts, donations to charity, short-term investments, travel, long-term investments, miscellaneous purchases and incidental expenses. It was the third consecutive night I’d spent adjusting and readjusting it.

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