The Luck of The Draw
Posted on February 27, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet
Standing in the hallway leading to the front door of the house, in my pajamas, I hand over my money to the lady selling 50/50 tickets. I don’t normally buy tickets on games of chance because my track record is abysmal. But when the ticket seller is your neighbor selling tickets to support her daughter’s hockey team, well, what chance do you have to say no? Maybe my luck will change and maybe the Maple Leafs will win the Stanley Cup. Hope springs eternal.
The first time I had a chance to lose my allowance was the annual parish bazaar held at the old, iconic Parish Center. I have often wondered who designed the building. It had several curious design features, none more so than a small room, a veritable bomb shelter, overlooking the gymnasium floor. The only time I ever remember it being in use was for the fish pond at the bazaar. It may have had something to do with the Cold War but building this room that the Dept. of National Defense would have relished seemed a little extreme. I mean, stuffed animals, plastic toys and religious artifacts are hardly the stuff that would be treasured by the enemy.
Ok, so I won a stuffed dog at the fish pond, if you can call that luck. Wait now, everybody wins at the fish pond so strike that off the list. A few years ago, I did actually win fifty pounds of lobster in a draw that only fattened my waist line and not my wallet.
I do remember the exact date when I hit the mother lode. It was February 28th. The year is unimportant. It was the last day of RRSP season and as a financial advisor, this was one of three dates on the calendar when there was a deadline. And it was frantically busy, when the phone rang with an incredibly cheerful voice on the end of the line announcing that I was a winner. Why are these telephone people always deliriously happy, as if they had won the stupid prize? The conversation was brief. “Mr. MacDonald, you’ve won…” “I don’t care what I’ve won; I’m too busy to talk.” “But Mr. MacDonald, you don’t understand…” “No, you don’t understand. I’m extremely busy and under the gun.” “But Mr. MacDonald you’ve won a leather chair!” “I don’t give a rat’s ass what I’ve won. I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.” And with that I hung up.
The day mercifully came to an end and as we shut off the lights to the office, my wife asked me about my day. I told her about the annoying telemarketer who tried to foist a leather chair on me. She didn’t have to say anything. I could tell by the look on her face that the word “idiot” was about to cross her lips. You see, she had put our names into a draw awhile back when we had purchased new furniture for our home office.
Moments later, she was on the phone frantically trying to track down someone in a call centre to claim stupidity on her husband’s part and to plead for clemency. A few weeks later, a lovely high backed blue leather chair graced our office.
If I receive a call today saying that I won the 50/50, I will just pass the phone to my wife. Don’t want to push my luck.
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