Pretty much every day at just past 10 a.m., Kenny Keohen gets ready for a small bump in sales at his BP station at 60th Street and Penn Avenue in south Minneapolis. Here they come, casually dressed workers from Wagner's Nursery nearby, filing in during morning break time to buy pop, prepackaged ham sandwiches and, what the heck, a Powerball ticket or two. And, um, throw in a Gopher 5 ticket while you're at it, Kenny. And a Hot Lotto.
Kind of hard to resist when a sign in the window reads: "We had a $28,000 winner!"
Tomasz Florianczyk, 29, who works in Wagner's shipping department, bought $5 worth of tickets and, presto, he won $10. But, he tells me before heading back to work: "It's not always like that."
Keohen isn't just handing out the love. He has bought two Powerball tickets twice a week since 1992 when Powerball arrived in Minnesota to replace Lotto. He hasn't recovered anywhere near the $3,500 or so that he's shelled out in that time. Still, that doesn't stop him, and many Minnesotans, from dreaming the impossible dream more than ever.
Last week Minnesota State Lottery officials reported record-breaking ticket sales of $481 million for the fiscal year ending June 30. That's up nearly $20 million from the previous record set a year before. Scratch games were the most popular choice, with $325 million in sales; payouts to players totaled $295 million.
Maybe it's altruistic urges that yank us en masse into gas stations to support the state's environmental causes, where $54 million of the earnings went last year. Or maybe the bump is, as some suggest, economically driven as more people figure this gamble is as likely to come out well as tossing their résumé onto an internet pile of 47,000 others.
"I don't doubt that a bit," said Keohen's boss, Rick Bohnen, of the latter possibility. He confesses to buying a few tickets himself, at $1 or $2 a pop. Still, he's going with Likely Reason No. 3:
"There's a lot of dreamin' out there."
And what better time to dream than now, as the very, very rich, it seems, are getting out of our way. Last year, the number of Americans with a net worth of at least $30 million dropped 24 percent, according to CapGemini and Merrill Lynch Wealth Management. They had names like Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and John McAfee, the latter an antivirus software company founder whose wealth plummeted from $100 million to a mere $4 million.
Economists predict that the rich will not enjoy a quick recovery this go-round. They're likely glum about the whole thing, and yes, of course, we've all heard the old saw that money can't buy happiness. Still it's hard to not ask: How can we be sure about that until we've tried it ourselves?
Last Wednesday, when the Powerball was at $250 million, "every customer was buying," said Brad Mc-Kay, who runs two service stations in south Minneapolis. He moved out of the way of the cash register, as regular customer Ramon Suarez dropped by his Holiday station at Xerxes Avenue and 56th Street, for gas and to buy two each of Powerball, Gopher 5 and Hot Lotto. "Habit," Suarez said.
McKay is amused at what high standards most among us have for the level of wealth we feel best suits us. On Monday, with a Powerball payout of $25 million, Suarez was one of only a few takers. "Twenty-five million dollars is a lot to me," McKay said, looking perplexed. His cashier agreed. "If I won $25 million," she piped up, "I wouldn't have to be standing here listening to you two."
Mark Olson, owner of a U.S. station in Richfield, notices many of his customers "grouping up and buying a bunch of numbers together." With a $25 million Powerball payout, sales are slow, Olson said. At $60 million to $70 million, the number of tickets sold triples. At $100 million? "We have to pre-print the tickets and keep them up front, because you can't spit them out fast enough."
I imagine it's those role models -- the Gateses and Buffetts and McAfees -- who get us thinking about "real" wealth like that. But back at Bohnen's BP station, a refreshing reality check was underway.
"This is why I come," said Wagner's employee Justin Hellert, 21, who paid out $1 and won $4.
"Now," Hellert said happily, "I have lunch money."
gail.rosenblum@startribune.com • 612-673-7350
