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I won a between-innings lottery that was pretty much a basket full of small-time sponsor stuff: Dishwashing detergent yes, but also other sample envelopes, and coupon for an oil change or car wash or thingies like that.
It was at a Binghamton Mets game. What made it weird was the lady next to me was like one of those Bingo etiquette cops. (Bingo the game, not the town, although that too.) When it came time for the first of three or so giveaways, she coldly told me that I was supposed to open my program to page 10 to see my lottery number, with an attitude that was at the same time charitable to the out-of-town guest and pityingly impatient with the obvious amateur that was the same person that was myself.
When we won the second raffle, she pointed out my number and how I asked her where I go to collect my #WINNINGS, which tried her patience almost all the way to the breaking point, and as I got up, I could tell from her 'tude that I was utterly unworthy of the bounty that fate had dropped into my lap. I knew we'd have no time to collect on car washes and oil changes, and it would be several days before we'd get home to use the dish soap and laundry detergent and such, so I started giving it all away to anybody on the concourse, reveling in my role of the world's cheapest Santa Claus. But my wife reminded me that we'd better save some prime choices for Esmerelda to choose from, or else our seats would be decidedly chillier by the time we got back. But I don't think our helpful/unhelpful seating neighbor was particularly interested in accepting charity any more graciously than she gave it.
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