Quitting Your Job is the Second Best Thing About Winning the Lottery

"You're kidding me. I mean you are seriously putting me on." Mavis Schuyler stared at her maid, Rosanne. "You're quitting?"

Rosanne nodded. "Effective immediately."

"But why? You need this job. You've told me on numerous occasions that you need to work. How can you possibly be quitting?"

"I don't need to work any longer. Mike and I won the lottery." Rosanne smiled at Mavis, her chin held high. "Neither of us need to work any more."

"You won the lottery?" Oh, of all the inconvenient things to happen to her, right when the Christmas season was starting to roll. Mavis despised whoever had come up with the lottery in the first place. It gave people like Rosanne hope and it did absolutely nothing for old-fashioned values like hard work and merit. Not that Mavis personally knew anything about those values but they sounded good. "How much did you win?"

"Three hundred million dollars."

"Oh, my." No wonder Rosanne looked so pleased with herself. She now had more money than Mavis did. "Rosanne, that's quite a fortune for someone like--" Mavis caught herself in the nick of time.

"Someone like me?" Rosanne asked, finishing Mavis's question for her. "Someone who's never earned more than ten dollars an hour, you mean? Someone who has always had to be at the beck and call of someone like you?"

"Well, yes," Mavis said. "Money is a very big responsibility. You need to learn how to handle it. If you'd like, I'd be very happy to be your financial adviser--for a small fee, of course."

Rosanne laughed. "Mavis, you don't know all that much about handling money either. You inherited your fortune and you married the rest of it. Why would I trust you? Besides, I haven't had a raise in years because of your 'cash flow' issues. How do I know you'd handle my money any better?"

Not liking her maid's snippy tone one little bit, Mavis tried to assert some of the former power she'd once had over Rosanne. "Now, look, Rosanne, this is all new and overwhelming for you. I'm going to have to insist that you take some time to think things through, to get used to your new station in life. And while you're thinking, perhaps you could keep on working here until you decide just what you want to do."

"You think I should keep on working for you, keep on cleaning your house, doing your laundry and cooking your meals while I have three hundred million dollars in the bank?"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to, that's why not. Because I never want to discover another cracker that you've hidden under the couch in one of your irritating traps to show me how I need to work harder. Because I never want to make another meal for you and cook up a mess of that disgusting diet soup you swill so you can fit into your size zero designer jeans. Because I don't have to work for you anymore, Mavis, and no one in their right mind would work for you if they didn't absolutely have to."

Mavis was a little hurt by Rosanne's harsh evaluation of her. "I never knew you felt that way, Rosanne."

"I didn't, not when I first started working here. But you could make Mother Theresa bitter, Mavis. You simply aren't a pleasant person to be around."

"Does this mean you won't be free to serve at my annual Christmas party?"

Turning, Rosanne headed for the front door, a door she never used while employed by Mavis. "Yes, Mavis, I won't be free that night. Or any night. I was hoping--" she paused.

"What were you hoping?"

Rosanne looked a little sad. "I guess I was hoping that you might say you were happy for me and how much you'll miss me."

"Of course I'm happy for you and of course I'll miss you. No one will do my laundry as well as you, Rosanne."

Rosanne opened the front door. "Thank you for making it so easy to quit, Mavis." She was out the door and gone before Mavis could respond.

"The lottery!" Mavis said to the empty room. "Now who will I get to serve at my party?"

Schuyler Square Day 137 Winning the Lottery Would Be a Lot Easier Than Working for a Living

Mindy bought five quick picks and two scratch off tickets on her way home from the chemical plant. In spite of what she’d told Bo about being an intrepid reporter, she was really getting pretty sick and tired of working for a living. Life would be so much simpler if she could just connect with the big bucks of the lottery and retire to some place like Malibu or Maine. The prize pool was for over $200 million this week. That, Mindy thought as she pulled into the newspaper’s parking lot, was a lot more than she was ever going to get in her pension from the Schuyler Square Times.

“So what did you find out?” Bo questioned the moment she got back to the newsroom.

“Not much,” Mindy admitted. “No one was there except the receptionist and she didn’t want to talk to the press.”

“After you left I did a little digging,” Bo informed her, “and I learned some interesting things.”

Mindy was impressed. “I didn’t know you were interested in being a bona fide journalist.”

“Hey, these days you have to be interested in being everything. Did you know that since Kutrate Kemicals opened in Schuyler Square the hospital has seen almost a 50% increase in lung complaints?”

“Where’d you find that out? The newspaper didn’t print that.”

“No, but I have a friend who works at the hospital and she told me. The doctors think the chemicals are making everyone sick.”

“Have they reported Kutrate Kemicals to the government?”

“My friend said it hasn’t gotten that far because someone at the chemical plant is paying off the big wigs at the hospital.”

“That’s terrible,” Mindy said.

“Are you going to do a story on it?”

“Of course I am! But we’re going to have to find out a lot more information. Would you ask your friend what else she knows about Kutrate Kemicals?”

“Sure.”

“And maybe you could go out there and snap a few pictures,” Mindy suggested.

“Of what?” Bo asked.

“Of whatever you find,” Mindy replied, trying not to sound impatient. She kept on waiting for the story that would be her ticket out of Schuyler Square. Maybe finally, this was it. A chemical plant that was polluting an entire town. She could almost smell the Pulitzer with her name on it.

“What are you going to do?”

Mindy considered the question. “I think I’m going to get a job at Kutrate Kemicals.”

Bo laughed. “Doing what?”

“Whatever I can find,” Mindy replied.