Would you be generous with your cash?
I was recently having dinner with friends on the eve of a EuroMillions rollover. I hadn’t been aware of the £28mil up for grabs but some people had already bought tickets and we started talking about what we’d do with the cash if we won. This is where the party divided.
One friend said that if he won, he’d buy each of his friends a house. Even if he gave £500,000 to each friend, he’d still have tens of millions to play with, so he wouldn’t think twice about doing it. His face flushed as he imagined divvying up his fortune, giving equal portions to his friends; alleviating their struggles and buying them happiness. He genuinely intended his potential future act as a loving gesture.
I was immediately dubious and thought of the practicalities. I wondered what would happen when word got out that he was giving out houses. I asked him how many friends he would buy houses for – where would the cut-off be? And what if he was friends with a couple: would they get twice as much money? Or, if they had a house already, would they get nothing? I imagined his no-longer-friends getting greedy and angry.
I then pictured him giving me a house. Would it ever feel like my home or would I feel indebted and resent the fact that he’d donated it to me? Thinking about it, I wasn’t sure I wanted this hypothetical generous gift. Thanks but no thanks. I’d rather earn my own.
I then said that if I won I’d keep it a secret. I wouldn’t tell anybody because no good would come of it. Some people would be jealous, others bitter. There would be expectations and judgment and I simply didn’t want that. I like the friends that I’ve got now and they like me – the version of me that’s not a millionaire with the ability to effectively grant their wishes.
With my newfound riches, I’d have to be careful with my spending so as not to raise suspicion. Perhaps I would say I’d won, but not how much. That would allow me to buy a few things without the obligation of paying off everyone’s debts and giving them houses. I’d help people out if they needed it but not ostentatiously.
The first friend, the house-giving one, said I was selfish and couldn’t see my point of view. How could I live with all that money and not share it with my friends? ‘Because I want to keep them as friends,’ was my answer.
Until that evening I wasn’t even aware of the EuroMillions rollover and now I found myself in a debate about how I should or shouldn’t spend my money when I won it.
With the arrival of pudding we agreed to disagree and started talking of other things. We chatted about one person’s recent holiday and another’s discovery of a new restaurant in town. One of the girls was having trouble at work and another had started dating someone new. Normality resumed but the idea of inconceivable wealth haunted me.
What would I really do with all that money? Perhaps it would be better to never have the money and the hassle associated with it. Naturally, I’d enjoy a little more disposable income but at least I know what’s expected of me and that my friends are really my friends. Yes, it’s better to never have the trouble.
Of course, I bought a ticket for the EuroMillions the next day. I won’t tell you if I won.
Suppose the two sxinarios are not mutually exclusive, you could anonimousley give five hundred thousand to chosen friends and to yourself then openley spend it as your friends do all believing you are equilly fortunate. You get your secretive safty curtian and your friend gets his sence of richousness.