“Bugger the Good Samaritan”, said the man, who wishes to remain anonymous for obvious reasons.
“There it was, in 50’s and 20’s, in a plain bag, no identification, no sign of where or who it may have come from. I found it on the way to work, called in sick, and took it home.”
What was the first thing that crossed your mind after finding it, we asked the man, whom we shall call Ross Sharp*, “My first thoughts were, I owe a few grand on the credit card, I’ve got a personal loan with about 6 months left to run, and I need a new lounge suite. The one I got I picked up from Vinnie’s for two hundred bucks about five years ago. I’m keeping this cash.”
Mr. Sharp continued, “I compared the notes to a couple I had in my wallet with a magnifying glass just to make sure there was nothing dodgy about it, if it was marked or counterfeit. It looked fine. I checked about a hundred notes. They weren’t consecutive serial numbers either, so that was good. I realised if I shoved a hundred grand into my bank account that it would probably draw a bit of attention, especially from the A.T.O., so I decided to do what all good legitimate businessmen and property developers do when they’re laundering drug profits and run it through a casino**”.
“I figured I could run ten grand a month through the tables and accept a loss of twenty cents on the dollar. I’d take the eight to the cashier and get them to write a cheque for it, and take that to my bank.”***
“I did that for 6 months. There was one month, I actually fucking won. I took ten grand, and won six. Fucking brilliant!”, Mr. Sharp continued. “And I didn’t run it all through, I bought a few things with the cash. The new lounge suite? It’s a three-piece, hand-tooled red leather, they wanted two thousand eight for it, for cash I beat them down to two thousand two.”
We asked Mr. Sharp if he felt any guilt about keeping the money.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Look, if someone’s dumb enough to lose a hundred grand, I’m not going to be dumb enough to hand it in. You can shove all this “what if” moralising claptrap. I’m not going to pretend I’m some upstanding, holier-than-thou, philanthropic sunbeam for Jesus, some honest-to-goodness legit national hero, like a Richard Pratt. I caught a break and I ran with it.”
Where to from here, Mr. Sharp?
“Well, I don’t have any debt anymore which feels fucking fantastic, I can tell you. I’ve got a flat full of nice new furniture, I bought a small car, and next year I’m taking a trip to the United States. I’ve always wanted to go. I’m a big fan of “The Wire”, so I’m going to spend a couple days in Baltimore, the nice parts.”
Thank you, Mr. Sharp.
“That money changed my life. I’m fucking stoked. Everything came up roses for once!”
*Not his actual name. No relation to this reporter.
**This reporter is not suggesting legitimate business figures and property developers launder proceeds from drug importation and sales through casinos.
***Would this work? Please let this reporter know. I’ve never gambled at a casino.