By Josh Resnek
The day after the new $50 Scratch Tickets came out, my son and I made a decision.
For us, it was an investment decision.
We based our decision almost entirely on our thinking that we would buy two of these new $50 Scratch Tickets, and then be on our way to Braintree to Lottery headquarters to pick up the big prize.
This was to happen in a matter of hours.
We expected our lives to be changed, even though we were not certain that having more money would make our lives any better than they are today.
That being said, I bought two $50 Scratch Tickets in Everett Square at my favorite corner store.
Funny thing, at first touch, the new tickets, the most expensive in Lottery history, did not have the feel or the touch of anything substantial.
Frankly, they felt flimsy. They looked a bit anemic.
We had figured $50 cards would have some panache, that is, the feeling of something very special to hold on to and to look at.
Anyway, the next order of business last Wednesday was for us to pick the place where we scratched the tickets.
You must keep in mind…it is important where the ticket is purchased. When it is purchased. What time of day. From which roll, from which store and on and on.
We like to hold our tickets for a while before scratching them.
When we did our deliveries in North Everett, we went down fuller Street.
I turned into the Jewish Cemetery.
I stopped the car in front of a family burial plot where dear friends of my late mother and father are buried.
I figured this might be a good spot.
We began scratching the tickets inside my car. I used a Truman dime.
My son used a penny.
In a matter of maybe a minute and a half, we were done, finished, disappointed, let down, made to feel like we had just lost $25 million!
It was not a good feeling.
After all, we were supposed to be heading to Braintree with the winning ticket for $25 million.
A few close friends had told us they were preparing letters of resignation for their jobs when I told them of our coming good luck.
Others said they needed to redo their schedules, and even how they’d be living their lives for the next few years.
My son took the Scratch Tickets. He ripped them in half. He tossed them on the floor.
We went on with our deliveries a bit let down as you might imagine.
The moral of this story?
Not every $50 Scratch Ticket is a winner.