Commentary : Slow Payoff for ‘Instant Winner’

My dictionary defines “instant” as an “infinitesimal period of time, immeasurably small.” The time you would take to snap your fingers might qualify, but the time it would take to sneeze and wipe your nose would not.

And, while my interest in definitions is natural, having spent most of my adult life as a writer and/or editor, my fascination with the specific word instant is only a week old, dating from the day I became an “instant winner” in the California Lottery.

Now, the lottery has never particularly intrigued me, although I did vote against its creation because of a rather vague feeling that it isn’t government’s role to promote gambling. I felt then, and still do, that those folks in Sacramento and Washington should at least aspire to lofty ideals.

But, last week I succumbed, and I purchased my first lottery ticket while at the supermarket. After I got home, I followed instructions, scratched the surface and discovered that I was an “instant winner” of $50.

The next day, I presented my “instant winner” at the market of its origin, but instead of being rewarded with a crisp new fifty, I was advised to read the back of the ticket, which I was unable to do, unaccustomed as I am to carrying a magnifying glass on shopping errands.

Luckily, at home I do possess an Agfa Lupe, a magnifying device used by photographers, and I discovered that the ticket very clearly (in the mode of Richard Nixon’s making things “perfectly clear”) states that to get my $50, I need a “claim form available from lottery retailers or offices.”

So, back to the market for the form, but it didn’t have any. Neither did two other markets in San Clemente, where I live, but one manager did come up with a very colorful brochure from the California Lottery people.

In readable type, it instructs me to “Obtain a Winner Claim Form (capitalized) from any lottery retailer or office” and to “deliver the completed claim form (not capitalized) to any lottery office.” Phone numbers and locations are listed, including Anaheim. No address, mind you, just “Anaheim.”

I called the number to get the address. What I got was what has to be the world’s most interminable recorded message, explaining in great detail that other recorded messages were available. If, for example, you are interested in “general information,” push the asterisk and 111. It even told me where the asterisk is located on my phone (“the lower left-hand button next to the ‘operator’ button”).

I got a full five minutes of descriptions of the other recorded messages available, their code numbers and where they are located on my phone.

While listening to three of them, foolishly assuming that one would surely include an address, I read the rest of the brochure and found a little box headed “18,194,427 WINNERS*.” With the help of my Lupe, I found the corresponding asterisk, followed by “based on approximately 150,000,000 tickets.”

It further explains that 14.4 million of those 18.1 million winners get $2, an additional 3 million get $5, another 600,000 win $10 and only 150,625 “instant winners” (moi! moi!) get $50. There are also 41,000 winners of $100, 1,875 of $1,000 and all of 52 for $50,000.

Meanwhile, the phone message droned on and, finally, got to some information I needed. “After you have completed the claim form in full, except for lines 15 through 18, which are not mandatory, but for statistical purposes only, staple your instant winner ticket to the white form and send by registered mail to Sacramento. Be sure to keep a copy of the ticket and the yellow form for your records. You will receive your winnings within 30 days.”

I suppose I should feel honored that I had the good fortune to find one of the 150,625 needles hidden in the 150-million-ticket haystack. And, maybe I should be grateful that I didn’t win a large amount; Lord knows what collecting $100 would entail.

And, I can understand why no market in my area seems to stock claim forms. No retailer worth his salt would take up space with an item for which there is no demand.

Meanwhile, if anyone knows where the lottery office is located in Anaheim (I have the phone number, thank you), please let me know. No hurry, though; according to the rules, I have until 180 days after the announced end of the game to collect my “instant” prize.