Money for Nothing: One Man's Journey through the Dark Side of Lottery Millions

by Edward Ugel

Overview

For the better part of a decade, Edward Ugel spent his time closing deals with lottery winners, making a lucrative and legitimate—if sometimes not-so-nice—living by taking advantage of their weaknesses . . . weaknesses that, as a gambler himself, he knew all too well.

In Money for Nothing, he explores the captivating world of lottery winners and shows us how lotteries and gambling have become deeply inscribed in every aspect of American life, shaping our image of success and good fortune. Money for Nothing is a witty, wise, and often outrageously funny account of high expectations and easy money.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780061748295
Publisher:	HarperCollins
Publication date:	10/13/2009
Sold by:	HARPERCOLLINS
Format:	eBook
Pages:	256
Sales rank:	752,905
File size:	456 KB

About the Author

Sales and marketing expert Edward Ugel spent his late twenties and early thirties working among the nation's most infamous lottery winners and gamblers in the high-stakes lump sum industry. He writes for the Huffington Post and has also written for the New York Times and contributed to PRI's This American Life.

Read an Excerpt

Money for Nothing
One Man's Journey Through the Dark Side of Lottery Millions

Chapter One

Gonzo Goes Fishing

August 1997: Southeast Florida

I am watching Tommy roll another joint, one-handed, while driving his new boat straight out of the inlet into the Atlantic Ocean. I'm laughing so hard it's making me even more nervous, happy, sad, stunned. I just made a serious commission off this guy and he's taking me out fishing, too. Forty minutes ago, we were at his bank notarizing the signature pages of his contract. Now, we're off the clock.

Thank God I left the contracts in the car. There's sea spray everywhere. They would be soaked, and I'd be beside myself—just beside myself.

Tommy's someone you like right away. Three years ago, he won a handful of millions in the Florida Lottery. Tommy swears he was happier before he won. I know he's telling the truth. That's one of the reasons he trusts me—because I know it's true. Two days ago, he called our office looking for money after seeing our commercial on The Jerry Springer Show. Within seconds I knew. This could be big.

Tommy's wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off jean shorts. He is tan, his skin leathered from a life on the water. This is not his first time in the sun. I, on the other hand, am fat and pale. A chain smoker, Tommy sounds like a young Wilford Brimley. I like him a lot. I just do. He's funny—and we both love to fish. But I can tell that he can be a mean son of a bitch. If he only knew. . .

The sun feels like it's thirty feet over my head. I'm burning everywhere. This is not the kind of boat where you golathering yourself up with SPF 45. I imagine Tommy would not be inclined to rub the lotion into my tough-to-reach areas. I will burn like a man. I hate being manly. I want a Diet Coke. All we have is Budweiser.

I'm sweating. Tommy yells something to me. I hear nothing over the screams of the two huge engines mounted on the back. One engine would definitely be enough for this boat, but we have two . . . lucky us. Typical lottery winner, the nouveau riche of the nouveau riche. They buy two of everything when one will do.

Tommy looks back and hands me the lit joint. He says something. I can't hear him over the goddamn engines. I'm pretty sure he said something about the money. I laugh as if to infer that I both heard him and agree with whatever he just said. At this point, it's best to just agree.

I'm in no mood to smoke, but I'm not about to refuse his offer. I take a long, deliberate drag on the joint. I close the back of my mouth so I look like I'm toking away. The smoke gets sucked into the engine exhaust before I inhale it. Tommy doesn't notice. Lesson 101 in sales: If a customer offers you something to drink or eat, you accept. It's just good manners and it puts the other person at ease. It's good for business—any business.

It's 3:45 in the afternoon and I'm faking a joint with a client. Why? Because he wants to, and I'm here to make him comfortable. Not a typical day at Smith Barney or Goldman Sachs. It is, to be sure, closer to car sales—very expensive cars.

Tommy is going this fast to (a) test me, (b) scare me, or (c) impress me. He has actually done (d) make me want my nana. I'm too numb and hot and happy about the deal to be truly scared. But deep down, I know I'm in a tight spot. At the very least . . . the very least, I'm not exactly acting like the son my father raised. Pretending to smoke a joint with a lottery winner just after signing a deal with him is not quite the career my dad had in mind for me.

I think Tommy just said something about his lawyer reading a copy of the docs. Goddamn engine noise. It doesn't matter now. The deal's signed. I nod and smile. All I can think about is holding onto any part of the boat that is bolted down—and not dying. The skin cancer I'm bound to get is a longer-term issue. Falling out of the boat, three miles out to sea with a stoned multimillionaire, is a more pressing concern.

Tommy has no idea how we make our money. They never do. He thinks we're fishing buddies. I wish we were. I will be sorry to disappoint him—that part always stings. But, in the end, more times than not, these deals are one-night stands. He offered to put me up at his house, for Christ's sake. He didn't even want me to check into a hotel. He can roll a goddamn joint with one hand. I like Tommy. I could use a friend like him in my real life.

In two weeks, he will threaten to kill me. He will mean it. And I will deserve it.

What kind of job makes all this possible, necessary even? To see the lump-sum business for what it really is, to understand that it has next to nothing to do with finance and numbers, you have to appreciate the kind of folks that win the lottery and the kind of guys who wait in the weeds for them to surface.

Tommy's first call to The Firm surfaced late in the evening, when decent folks were already home. I was with Ben at the bar, for a change. We were both still in our work clothes, as we'd come straight from the office—four hours ago. We were still working, in a sense, as our cell phones kept ringing with sales reps from all over the country calling in to give us (Ben, really) updates on the status of their deals. So far that night, over a handful of cocktails, we'd both made money as two deals had been signed, all while we guarded our favorite bar stools.

Money for Nothing
One Man's Journey Through the Dark Side of Lottery Millions. Copyright © by Edward Ugel. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Table of Contents

Introduction     XV
Gonzo Goes Fishing     1
Lottery for Dummies     25
Everything You'll Wish You Never Knew About Winning the Lottery     36
Go West, My Son     49
The Firm     65
Can You Hear Me in the Back?     105
Sally Stone     114
What is the Sound of No Hands Clapping?     154
Every Time I Try to Get Out, They Pull Me Back In     166
Of All the Gin Joints, in All the Towns, in All the World     182
Senior Vice President of My Basement     199
Epilogue: The Gamble in Me     211
Endnotes     237

What People are Saying About This

Ben Mezrich

“For anyone who’s ever dreamed of winning the lottery, this is a terrifying look at what really happens when someone hands you that huge cardboard check. Ugel’s writing style is terrific.”

Editorial Reviews

Mr. Ugel's roller-coaster ride makes for dizzying, sometimes harrowing reading. Confessional, un-self-protecting and bitterly funny, it exposes the human failings of his customers, his colleagues and himself, in a personal memoir of greed and hope

New York Times

Money for Nothing is Ugel's outrageous and often very funny account of the years he spent gouging lottery winners for whatever he could take.

New York Daily News

His tale is a colorfully written account by a self-proclaimed overweight, chain-smoking, Krispy Kreme doughnut-eating, fanatical gambler . . . .You will lick your chops, eager to hear the sordid woes of winners gone broke from spending sprees.

USA Today

An added twist to Mr. Ugel's sordid -- and highly engaging -- tale is the fact that he was himself a compulsive gambler. So while he was encouraging lottery winners to sell him their checks at a discount, his commissions were disappearing at the tables in Atlantic City and Las Vegas.

The Wall Street Journal

This funny, eye-opening memoir explores the American mania for gambling and the dark side of hitting the jackpot.

Details Magazine

Ugel is a self-proclaimed gambler. He's also a born salesman. So it was a good fit when he landed a sales job with a firm that pioneered the lottery "lump sum" industry. Basically, his firm stalked and then preyed upon cash-strapped lottery winners (annual payouts to these jackpot winners could be very small). To be fair to the firm, buying out the lottery annuities of these winners did solve their immediate cash problems. But in a nearly unregulated industry, the discounts to the winners were steep-and consequently the profits to the firm were enormous. Ugel's story is a familiar one. He basically just needed a job, landed one to which he was constitutionally suited, and learned to play dirty (because that's how the industry worked). Eventually, he got sacked and repented of his ways-thus the book. Ugel's natural showmanship makes for entertaining reading. He does little to pretty up his misdeeds (heck, they were legal) and offers comical vignettes of his rendezvous and run-ins with prospective clients while delivering a well-deserved scathing indictment of the government-backed lottery system. Given the popularity of legalized gambling, this book should circulate briskly in public library business, collections.
—Carol J. Elsen

Library Journal

An industry insider dissects the dire social consequences of America's gaming culture. Ugel worked in a particularly unsavory corner of the lottery business, a private, lump-sum company that offers winners a quick hit of cash if they sign over their annuities. As he points out, these are hardly the only sharks in the gambling ocean. Lotteries date to antiquity, and our founding fathers were all heavily involved in their implementation or promotion. Today, gambling is more pervasive and more acceptable than ever. More than half of all American adults play at least once a year, and teens think gambling for high stakes is perfectly normal. Canny lottery executives regularly introduce new, zippier and more addictive games. PR departments know that citizens like to hear about lotto proceeds going to state education, but the author reminds us that lottery money doesn't increase a state's actual expenditures on schools; it just allows legislatures to appropriate a smaller portion of the state budget to the three Rs. As for actually getting lucky and winning, his text backs up the old saw about folks being happier before they won. The newly rich are pursued by friends, relatives and sharp businesspeople out to take advantage of them. For many, lottery wins lead to lawsuits. One woman's septuagenarian husband filed for divorce as soon as she hit the jackpot, successfully claiming he should get half the money, since she'd used his $20 to buy the ticket. A breezy, funny writer, Ugel made "multiple six figures" during his days in the industry, but most of it is now gone: "It's as if I never had the money in the first place. I'm as jealous as you are." He's also pessimistic, short on suggestions ofhow Americans might challenge the lottery industry. Maybe this eye-opening book will galvanize a movement. By turns amusing and alarming.

Kirkus Reviews

For anyone who’s ever dreamed of winning the lottery, this is a terrifying look at what really happens when someone hands you that huge cardboard check. Ugel’s writing style is terrific.” — Ben Mezrich, New York Times bestselling author of Bringing Down the House and Busting Vegas

“A jackpot of sleaze and hilarity” — The Oregonian (Portland)

“A breezy, funny writer.... Maybe this eye-opening book will galvanize a movement.... By turns amusing and alarming.” — Kirkus Reviews

“His tale is a colorfully written account by a self-proclaimed overweight, chain-smoking, Krispy Kreme doughnut-eating, fanatical gambler....You will lick your chops, eager to hear the sordid woes of winners gone broke from spending sprees.” — USA Today

“Ugel’s natural showmanship makes for entertaining reading. He does little to pretty up his misdeeds (heck, they were legal) and offers comical vignettes of his rendezvous and run-ins with prospective clients while delivering a well-deserved scathing indictment of the government-backed lottery system.” — Library Journal

Ugel, a gambler since age 19, tells a sordid tale of gambling addiction, and we all have much to learn from the author’s important perspective on the proliferation of gambling opportunities. Written in an informal, sometimes humorous manner, this book contains excellent information for library patrons. — Booklist

“[A] sordid—and highly engaging—tale” — Wall Street Journal

From the Publisher

[A] sordid—and highly engaging—tale

Wall Street Journal

For anyone who’s ever dreamed of winning the lottery, this is a terrifying look at what really happens when someone hands you that huge cardboard check. Ugel’s writing style is terrific.

Ben Mezrich

Ugel, a gambler since age 19, tells a sordid tale of gambling addiction, and we all have much to learn from the author’s important perspective on the proliferation of gambling opportunities. Written in an informal, sometimes humorous manner, this book contains excellent information for library patrons.

Booklist

A jackpot of sleaze and hilarity

The Oregonian (Portland)

His tale is a colorfully written account by a self-proclaimed overweight, chain-smoking, Krispy Kreme doughnut-eating, fanatical gambler....You will lick your chops, eager to hear the sordid woes of winners gone broke from spending sprees.

USA Today

Ugel, a gambler since age 19, tells a sordid tale of gambling addiction, and we all have much to learn from the author’s important perspective on the proliferation of gambling opportunities. Written in an informal, sometimes humorous manner, this book contains excellent information for library patrons.

Booklist

[A] sordid—and highly engaging—tale

Wall Street Journal