Oliver quietly closed the door behind him and proceeded down the steps while checking to see if the weekly bundle of money was secured his pocket. The sun was just rising and sharing its light with the world as he walked down the street and across the highway. As usual, the horns of passing vehicles blared as he dodged the ten wheeled trucks. He kept his head low to try and avoid the wet plastic bags that carelessly blew inches above the asphalt. But that was not the only reason for his hanging head. The air around him was thick and putrid making him want to take in the least air as possible. The power plant down the street contributed to the extremely poor air quality that seemed to threaten his and his family’s life every day. His wish was to leave this dark, dilapidated “neighborhood” and raise his family in a reasonable environment. Although he thought about it every day, he was still traveling from his house to the same storeroom for five o’clock every morning to move boxes for a solid ten hours.

By now, he approached the barred door of the convenience store and pulled it open as the bells rang above his head. A familiar face of Friday mornings greeted him as the teller got up from his stool behind the counter.

“Hullo Oliver… lookin for the usual?” the teller asked as he groggily greeted Oliver. The usual break in conversation was due to his gum chewing that he used as a technique to keep him awake in the early morning.

“Well, the boys and I couldn’t pull up the usual fifty. We had to compromise on thirty for the week. You probably know, it seems like the usual pleasures are getting harder to rely on every day,” Oliver replied while pulling out the bundle of cash from his pocket.

“Okay then…., I’m thinkin…. ten two-dollars and ten ones. What d’ya think?” the teller advised still chewing on his gum.

“That works,” Oliver replied as he handed over the stack of money that he regretfully left on the counter. He always loved Friday mornings because of the rare possession of such a large sum of money. What he did not like about the day was this moment when he had to part with the bundle and go back to his usual feeling of poverty.

“Here ya go Olie, ya know to come to me if ya ever win,” the teller recited as he always did before Oliver left the store.

Oliver thanked the teller and departed from the store with the bells jingling behind him.

It was now four thirty and Oliver had a leisurely half hour to get to the storeroom. He continued across the road, down the street, and eventually reached the dark gray block that he called his office. It was extremely uninviting but it was the highest paying job he could get with the little education he went through. The usual aroma of a wet dog hit him as he pulled open the door. The soggy cardboard boxes always gave the room a terrible smell, but the landlord refused to fix the leak in the ceiling that caused this issue. After a few minutes he got used to it, but the initial shock was enough to wake him up in the morning.
Oliver walked around the room, put his lunch on the table, and waited for the rest of the men to arrive. He despised people who were late so he always arrived at least ten minutes early and started tidying up the office.

“How you doin Olie? Got the tickets?” One of the men asked Oliver in his casual tone as he walked in the door and threw his jacket in the corner.

“Fine, and yes I did get the tickets but I am keeping them until break because I do not want any of them to get lost,” Oliver replied formally in his responsible tone.

The rest of the men joined him at the table and soon the other four men meandered into the storeroom. Soon after they were all in the storeroom Oliver rallied up the men and they began loading the endless boxes into the trucks. This continued for about three hours with their boss Mr. Story stopping in occasionally to check on the men. Everyone admired Mr. Story’s job for he had his own building consisting of four offices occupied by him and two secretaries. In the building there was even a kitchen with a working refrigeration and microwave that he was able to use during his lunch break. Many of the storeroom workers did not even have microwave ovens at their houses never mind the privilege of having one where they worked.

The day lagged on as he loaded boxes and Oliver could not wait for Mr. Story to come in and announce break. Even though he had never won the lottery, he was always excited for the time when the numbers were called on the radio. As these thoughts ran through his head for a good six hours of loading boxes, Mr. Story finally entered the building and called off work for the morning. The men gathered at the table and talked for a few minutes while opening their lunches to fill their starving stomachs. Meanwhile, Oliver got the radio and plugged it into the outlet. He then carefully spun the dial back and forth, back and forth, back and forth listening to the fuzz all the while. It was now ten minutes to eleven and Oliver was beginning to feel the time crashing down on him. The old radio was very fickle and never got started as quickly as he liked. It was always quite nerve racking to know that thousands of dollars could be his, but he would only know if the old radio tuned in. He kept spinning the dial back and forth, back and forth, and then, three minutes to eleven he picked up a signal. Immediately, the men gathered around the radio and Oliver handed out the tickets. Like always, their hands were shaking as they gripped the tickets and began memorizing the numbers. Then, at one minute to eleven, silence fell upon the storeroom. They listened to the announcer as he began calling the numbers over the fuzz of the bad reception.

“Six, fifty, eight,” the announcer proclaimed. Oliver stared at his tickets and realized he had the first three numbers. Knowing this feeling he knew anything could happen so he did not take his eyes off the ticket
“Twenty-one, ninety, s……” at that moment, while the last number was being called, the fuzz took over the voice of the announcer. Oliver staring at his ticket in sat there in awe. He couldn’t believe he had all the numbers so far. His last number was a six and he knew that the number that would grant him thousands of numbers was either a six or seven. He sat there, the men all quiet in hopes that magically the last number would magically appear on the radio. Oliver didn’t know what to do. Does he have the number? Or is it a seven? Is he going to win thousands of dollars? Or is he going to go home empty handed? He turned to the man next him and showed him his card. He froze.

“Olie, ya got a winnin ticket. Do ya know what this means?” Oliver’s coworker exclaimed in awe while keeping eye on the ticket as if to make sure it didn’t disappear.

“Do you really think so? Do you think we won the lottery?” responded Oliver who completely forgot about the unknown number.

By now all the men were gathered around Oliver and the lucky ticket. The big question was who would go to the convenience store to report the ticket? Each man went through their frantic desire to go but after a short discussion it was unanimously decided that Oliver was to go to the store. After all, each week he collected the money and was responsible for it until the tickets were bought so he was the most worthy of the men.

So it was decided that Oliver was to go to the store immediately after work. Because of this, the next three hours were brutal for the men. They couldn’t keep their mind on their work and kept mixing the boxes up. No one complained, not even Mr. Story who was doing his rounds when the tickets were being called.

Finally, their job was done and Mr. Story dismissed the men but pulled Oliver aside.

“I wish you the best of luck today Oliver……. I know you are going to find a reward,” Mr. Story stated as he walked back to the office. This puzzled Oliver and he did not know what to think, but because of the ticket, he shook it off and continued with his task.
...

The bells rung as Oliver quickly opened the door and looked around the corner at the desk. To his pleasure the usual teller was sitting at the stool.

“Wow, neva seen ya here in the aftanoon what’s so special?” the teller asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“I think I won!” Oliver exclaimed now that the excitement of this scenario was now becoming a reality.

“Ya mean the lottery? The real lottery!” the teller replied, frantically pacing across counter waiting for the old desktop to load.

“Yes, the men think I’ve got the ticket,” Oliver remarked while placing the ticket on the counter where they could both see it. With both their hopes up they watched as the screen of the desktop turned on, and the winning number magically appeared. It glowed on the old desktop like a hypnotizing light they couldn’t take their eyes off of. Then they looked down at the ticket, up at the screen, down at the ticket, up at the screen, down at the ticket, up at the screen checking each number one at a time to make sure they were all matched.

“Six, six… Fifty, fifty… Eight, eight… Twenty-one, twenty-one… One, one…Ninety, ninety…Six, se….” Oliver looked at the screen. A moment ago he was looking at a six on the ticket, but now a seven was glowing on the screen. He couldn’t believe it. His hopes had risen so high from the men at the storeroom that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Oliver believed them, and they had made him think he won, when reality was telling him he hadn’t. Oliver looked up at the teller with an empty stare on his face, but the expression on the face of the teller was the same.

With his head down, Oliver left the store and the bells jingled behind him as the door slammed in his trail. The whole way home he thought about his disappointment and how he would tell the men tomorrow. And then, in the midst of these thoughts, something hit him. It was the comment from Mr. Story. Why had he said that he knew Oliver was going to get a reward? Did he really expect him to win? It was all a mystery to Oliver, but he simply expected that Mr. Story was trying to be nice and let the thought escape him.
…

When he finally returned home, Oliver’s wife informed him that his boss had just called and wished to speak with Oliver as soon as possible. Not knowing what to expect, Oliver skittishly went up the phone. It was the first time Mr. Story had every bothered to speak to him outside of work and he was nervous as to what the reason was. He thought that it might be an extension to the comment in the morning but he wasn’t sure and didn’t want to say anything. So, he dialed the number, and waited patiently as the phone rang. After what seemed like ages a deep voice answered.

“Hello, is this Oliver Reldon?” Mr. Story asked in his dignified voice.

“Yes. Good afternoon Mr. Story what can I do for you?” Oliver replied attempting to match the formality in his boss’s voice.

“Well, if you recall my word of advice today, I mentioned there would be some type of reward,” Mr. Story began.

“I was just wondering about that actually,” Oliver added, excited about where this conversation seemed to be heading.

“I think you are going to be pleased to hear that I have been watching you for that past few months and have noticed that you have been working very well with the men this entire time. I have also noticed your organizational skills through the group lottery you have been putting together, and I have seen many admirable traits among these things. Therefore, I am going to offer you a position as the relations manager, not only with your men, but the men of the other storerooms. Your job will also entitle you to work with the companies we ship to, to make sure they are getting everything they need,” Mr. Story proposed as Oliver attempted to control himself on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, Mr. Story, you do not know how much this means to me. I have been waiting for an opportunity like this forever and I am so grateful for this offer. I accept the job and hope to do everything to show you how worthy I am of a position like this,” responded Oliver as he grinned from ear to ear on the other end of the line.

“I am glad you will take this job and I will see you on Monday in my building to arrange you promotion and new office,” Mr. Story concluded.

“Thank you! I will meet you there first thing Monday morning,” Oliver finished as he hung up the phone and rushed to give his wife the good news. He couldn’t believe it, after all these years of hard work, he was finally being recognized. Instead of getting thousands of dollars in one day, he had earned a greater salary, a new job, and a new office that would stay with him for years to come.