A New Job, Fatherly Advice, and the Lottery

Last updated on: February 23, 2017 at 9:06 am by Tom Swiss

A New Job, Fatherly Advice, and the Lottery 2017-02-23T09:06:01-04:00 Tom Swiss

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I did something new today: for the first time in my life, I bought lottery tickets. If I was going to do such a thing, consign a few bucks to a spin of the Wheel of Fortune (I’m thinking of the Tarot here, not the game show), it seems fitting to do it in keeping with our Random Wednesday tradition here on The Zen Pagan.

I didn’t forget that a lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math. But I had two reasons for this purchase: one, it was my father’s advice, and I can tease him about wasting six bucks on his investment advice. And two, it gives me an excuse to relate one of my favorite jokes-slash-stories.

I started a new additional job today: one evening a week, I’m doing massage at a spa. This is in addition to my half-time software development and system administration job, my own shiatsu and massage practice, my karate teaching — and of course the writing, though that hardly pays. (You can do something about that, if you’re so inclined.)

Before I went in for my first day, I called my father, who is currently in a medical rehabilitation center after pneumonia landed him in the ICU. Dad is a bit of a recreational gambler; he likes to visit the Atlantic City casinos from time to time, and occasionally plays the lottery. He asked if I had bought a ticket, and I didn’t even know what he was referring too. It turns out the Powerball jackpot is up to $403 million, and as we talked about my first day on a new job, he decided that this confluence of events might be a sign, and I ought to take a chance on it.

Well, what the hell. A devotee of Eris ought to once in a while throw down a couple bucks on something random, I guess. So after work I spent the one cash tip I got on a bottle of wine and three Powerball tickets.

Lottery tickets and wine, spoils of a new job

But this gives me an excuse to tell my favorite joke. Or maybe it’s my favorite fable:

Abraham was an elderly man, very devout in the faith of his ancestors. (You can imagine him to be Jewish, Christian, or Muslim as you like, Abraham is a good flexible name of that.) But he had fallen on hard times, and was just about flat broke.

One night as he knelt for his evening prayers, he addressed the heavens: “Dear Lord, it’s me, Abraham. Lord, I’m just about at the end of my rope. The rent is almost due and I don’t have the money. I’ve never asked for anything for myself in my prayers before, but I don’t know what to do. Lord, if You could just fix it so I win the lottery — I don’t need the big jackpot, the $1,000 one would get me out of the hole. I know it’s asking a lot, but I know You can do it if you choose. Thank you. Amen.”

Well, the drawing came, and Abraham didn’t win.

The next night, Abraham said his prayers again. “Dear Lord, it’s me again, Abraham. Lord, I know You didn’t see fit for me to win the lottery last time, but the rent’s due tomorrow. Lord, I guess I don’t need the $1,000 prize, $500 would do it if I sold some stuff to pay the rent. So if You can set it up so I win that, wow, that would be great. Thank you. Amen. Sincerely, Your friend, Abraham.”

Well again the drawing came, and again Abraham didn’t win. The night after that, Abraham on his knees, by his bedside: “Dear Lord, it’s me, Abraham. Lord, I know You didn’t see fit for me to win last time, but the rent’s past due now and I just don’t know what to do. I guess I don’t need the $500 prize, even $100 would let me give the landlord something…”

And suddenly, from above boomed down a voice: “ABRAHAM.”

“Yes, Lord?!”

“ABRAHAM. MEET ME HALFWAY. BUY A TICKET.”

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