Chances Are

I don't know when to hold 'em. I don't know when to fold 'em. But I do know when to walk away. When I was approached by a very enthusiastic co-worker last week to pitch a dollar into the well that was the Mega-Millions Jackpot, I politely demurred. I was told that I would be sorry when the rest of the staff was rolling in the dough. I was admonished for talking to them about "if they won," since it was not a matter of "when." It was a certainty. Educated people who were in the business of educating others were rabid for a chance at that six hundred million dollars. A one in 175,711,536 chance of winning five hundred million dollars.
As I have stated here before, I'm not much of a fan of wagering, especially on those things over which I have no control. While it is true that I have paid a few dollars for the opportunity to participate in March Madness bracketology, or the elusive opportunities presented by managing a Fantasy Football team. Those experiences offer some measure of control beyond their randomness. If I were to be allowed to wad up a dollar bill and toss it into a vast pool full of floating ashtrays. If my dollar bill happened to land in the correct dish, out of nearly two hundred million, I would win a prize. The odds of being attacked by a shark are one in 11.5 million. Somewhere in Las Vegas there are professional gamblers crying into their breakfast buffet, since three tickets beat those odds. The megamillions, not the shark.
I'm thinking of setting up a concession where people can pay me a dollar to guess which number, between one and two billion, I am thinking. I promise to give a percentage of the money I don't end up giving away to the local school district. And a hefty donation to the folks at Gamblers Anonymous.