Some people wake up to a phone alarm, some to a crying baby, some to the five o’clock kookaburra chorus drilling into their winter morning hangover. But imagine waking up to the realisation that you’ve just won the lottery – not a cheeky fifty bucks on a scratchie from the servo, but almost $2.7 billion. That’s billion, with a “b”. Enough to fill every carton of milk you’ve ever bought with Chanel No. 5 instead.
This week, two people in the United States – strangers, one in Texas, the other in Missouri – now have to tackle the single most stressful question most of us never face: what do you actually do when mind-boggling, soul-bending amounts of cash land in your lap?
The US Powerball jackpot climbed like an Olympic pole vaulter on steroids for three months, until finally these two punters matched the magic numbers: 11, 23, 44, 61, 62, with the Powerball being 17. Somewhere in Missouri, someone screamed loud enough to wake their dead grandmother. Meanwhile in Texas, the “lucky” ticket was bought in a Fredericksburg petrol station-convenience store, proving once again you can buy both a hot beef jerky stick and financial immortality in the same fluorescent-lit room.
Too Much of a Good Thing?
Each winner must now choose between a tidy US$893.5 million annuity check that grows every year like a mutating fungus, or a US$410.3 million lump sum that will still have the tax man rubbing his hands together like he’s just invented chocolate.
Of course, the sensible thing would be to invest wisely, set up trust funds for grandchildren, and maybe give a little back to the local rescue puppies. But nobody wins Powerball by being sensible. Sudden billionaires tend to go one of two ways: they either disappear into reclusive, silk-robed obscurity or they crash and burn after building a private zoo, four bowling alleys, and buying enough cocaine to make Tony Montana blush.
But here’s the question lingering over this whole eye-watering $2.7 billion: is it too much? Can any human being actually function when they win money on that scale? Imagine wandering into a coffee shop with that in your bank account. What do you even order? Suddenly a $6 flat white feels insulting. You could buy the actual coffee farm, the barista, and the La Marzocco machine while you’re at it.
The Mental Gymnastics of Riches
Ask yourself: what would you do with that much money? Pay off the mortgage? Cute, but that wouldn’t even make a dent in the petty cash. Holiday in Europe? Lovely – until you realise you could buy Italy outright and evict the Pope if you felt like it.
You’d start rationalising big-ticket purchases because money would no longer mean anything. “Yes, darling, the solid gold speedboat seems a bit much, but it’s going to really make summer at the lake pop. And besides… the Texans bought a space rocket!”
And yet, history says ludicrous wealth doesn’t equal ludicrous happiness. In fact, many lotto winners confess life gets worse. Cue long-lost cousins at the gate, fast-talking advisers promising sure-fire “investments” in alpaca farms, and neighbours who wouldn’t lend you jumper cables last week suddenly needing a kidney transplant “and, hey, maybe fifty grand for the trouble.”
The Average Joe Fantasy
Of course, the great joy of all this is not in winning, but in imagining we might be that obscene winner. Everybody plays the game in their head. At the pub, at the school pick-up, in front of the TV. “What would you do if you won?” is up there with “Did you see the size of that brown snake by the bin?” as small-talk gold in Australia.
Your mate says they’d buy a yacht. Another would “just get a really decent car, you know, brand new Hilux.” Someone else dreams of disappearing forever to Tuscany. These are delicious little fantasies because the reality is we wouldn’t know what to do. Entire childhoods of being told to save your pocket money and don’t waste it on Smith’s chips don’t prepare you for having the national debt of Vanuatu sitting in your pocket.
My Strategy
Personally? I’d get the lump sum, buy a vineyard, hire Hugh Jackman to sing show tunes at vintage release parties, and live out my days annoying sommeliers with gratuitous tipping. But I know, deep down, that amount of money would go off like a firecracker under my sense of perspective. The simple pleasure of buying a sausage roll without checking if I had coins in the console would vanish forever.
And tragically, that’s what the money really takes away. With enough billions, you never again taste the thrill of payday, the relief of finding an extra tenner in your jeans pocket, or the smug joy of timing your fuel stop just before the price spikes.
So, Missouri man and Texas petrol-station lucky duck: good luck to you, genuinely. But also, commiserations. Because winning $2.7 billion might just be the most expensive thing you ever do.