Seán Moncrieff: We won the Lotto ... it feels good to see these words published

It could be you. But it might not be what you want

When was the last time Tom Cruise picked up a pair of pants? I don't mean when he's getting dressed in the morning, I mean the pants he flings on the ground when he's getting into bed. I assume that he employs people to pick up his pants for him. Similarly, he probably has people to do the ironing, put out the bins and ring the broadband provider when it's acting up. The humdrum details of Normal Life, as most of us experience them, are completely alien to him.

That’s what having money will do for you.

What got me thinking about this is that we won the Lotto.

It was €3. But it still feels good to see these words in print.

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I reckon most people have won the Lotto. At least in their minds. Even the most casual players have given some passing thought to how they might disburse their millions. Oddly, when the jackpot is higher – say €7 million or €8 million – ticket sales increase. As if, in the fantasy-wealth scenario, two or three million simply wouldn’t do the trick.

Many couples, at least in my experience, have also had the what-do-we-do-if-we-win-the-Lotto conversation; and a surprisingly high amount of these conversations don’t go that well. There are the obvious things, like paying off the mortgage, buying a new car. A holiday (this is a fantasy). A load of new hats. A nest egg. But after that comes the question of who do we give money to, and in what proportions? Do we give money to parents, who may have already paid off their mortgage? There’s an obvious urge to give some of it to the kids, but again, we might have to be cautious. If it’s too much, and they know it’s there, it might spoil them. I’d still want them to pick up their own pants.

Myself and Herself are casual players, but we’ve had the conversation too. Herself has a detailed plan, depending on the size of windfall, along with reciprocal deals with members of her family. We haven’t agreed on everything. We haven’t rowed about it, but come close to a mutual huffing session.

The problem isn’t what we’d do with the money for ourselves, but what we’d do for everyone else: and when you start counting out how much a person should get, you have to make an assessment on their level of need; an assessment that you have no right to make and which they might calculate in a completely different way. Without them even knowing it, you’re making a decision about their future. It’s a cliché, but it’s true: having money might purge many of your current problems, but it’ll also bring many new ones.

We might all know a family where brothers haven't spoken for decades, or where the kids never visit, there are no figures on family estrangement in Ireland

Certainly, the prospect of money – and the imagined future it provokes – can inflict wanton damage on families. Because rows about wills or who gets the land aren't just about the resources, they are also about love: who has the most of it, who has shown the most of it. Who deserves it. Putting a monetary value on that never goes well. Families have disintegrated over such things, and even though we might all know a family where brothers haven't spoken for decades, or where the kids never visit, there are no figures on family estrangement in Ireland. In the UK, one in five families have experienced it. In the US it's one in four. There's no reason to believe we might be any different. We might even be worse.

Of course, money isn’t the only reason families break apart. It can be marital breakdown or mental health issues or simple personality clashes. Some seem happy to have escaped a toxic situation. Others find our family-centred world a source of daily pain. We might even appear a bit smug, taking our good fortune for granted, not realising how fragile a family structure can be. It could be you.