Unbelievable

As someone who was new to online dating, I had no idea what to expect. What I found was "Unbelievable."

The following story is true.

 

It’s 95 degrees and I’m standing in the parking lot wearing khakis and a blue cotton shirt.  It’s a first date and I’m a nervous sweater so my clothing choice probably wasn’t the best.  But, I figured a forty something year old man wearing shorts and a tee shirt on a first date probably wouldn’t make a good impression so I took the risk.

If I could just get into the air conditioning within a minute or two I’d be ok.

But this was taking longer than expected and I was rapidly approaching my two minute threshold before the sweat glands let loose.  I was almost certain the woman in the blue Camry I was standing next to was the person I was supposed to meet.  After all, she said she’d be in a blue Camry, she waved at me when she pulled in and she looked vaguely like her picture. Had to be her.

But as I stood there next to her car she doesn’t look at me.  I start to feel weird. Her radio is blasting and she’s fumbling through her purse for something…found it, her cell phone.  For a moment I think if this is not my date and I’m standing staring at this woman like some creepy stalker, she’s probably calling the cops.  Then my actual date will show up in a second blue Camry just in time to see me being led off in handcuffs, probably with the back of my shirt covered in sweat.

Finally she looks and me and gives me the “just one minute” signal with her finger.  I smile but feel the first bead of sweat trickling down my back.

Oh my God, she’s sending a text?  Really?  I’m standing right here.  It’s that important?

I’m not sure how stupid I looked standing there but I sure felt stupid.  It was probably only about 20 seconds but put yourself in a position where you look like an idiot and count off 20 seconds.  It seems like a lifetime.

I debated pretending to answer my phone, or going back to the car pretending to forget something so I didn’t look as dumb, but instead I just stood there and stared down into her car.  She never looked at me as she systematically closed her phone, turned off the radio, unbuckled her seatbelt, put her keys and phone back into her purse, pulled down her vanity mirror, fixed her hair, put the vanity mirror back up then got out of the car. This is starting well.

“Katherine?” I asked.  I suppose it would have been weird if she had said no.

“Kat” she replied and went to give me a hug.  I’m not a hugger.  Particularly not on a 95 degree day when I’m not sure how dry the back of my shirt is.  It’s a quick, non hug kind of hug.  Thankfully.  I’m never going to call her Kat by the way.

We make the usual somewhat awkward small talk as we walk into the thankfully well air conditioned restaurant.

Any trouble finding the place? Sure is a nice day.  Great to finally meet you.  Bla bla bla.

Of course we’re both spending these first few moments evaluating each other, comparing what we expected to what we now see is the reality.

I had met Katherine a week or so ago on an online dating site.   Now, despite all the adds with the happy, perfectly matched couples sharing how they found their soul mate online in just three easy clicks, my experience was the same as most people in the online dating world.  That is, to find someone you might want to meet, you have to filter through a lot of people you don’t want to meet.

Online, Katherine seemed interesting.  Her profile said she used to be in a comedy troupe which I thought was cool and she did seem funny in her emails and texts.  And, she describes herself as an entrepreneur.  Definitely someone I would like to learn more about.

The other downside to online dating however, is the profile pictures.  Seriously, are you going to put up bad ones?  The urge to put up that one from 4 years ago at your friends wedding when you weighed 10 pounds less is overwhelming. But I always thought that if people were doing this because they wanted to meet someone, why put up photos that don’t look like you.  Eventually they are going to notice the discrepancy don’t you think?

I noticed right away. Katherine had definitely put her best foot forward in her online profile.  And it was only a little while into our lunch when she confessed that she was not the same age as her profile had listed.  Thirty eight was what she listed.  Her pictures wouldn’t lead anyone to believe differently.

“I’m actually forty nine” she confessed.  In person, there was no reason to believe differently.

I’m not sure how I reacted to such a huge discrepancy, I think I just sat there, might have said, “Really”  Let her talk.  Explain.  This should be interesting. Her explanation was that on the dating site, once you establish your profile, you can’t change certain features, age being one of them.  When she was creating it, she mistyped.

I’m thinking, OK, well, I guess that makes sense.  Again why would you put that down that they were 11 years younger if you actually wanted to meet someone.  You know they would find out.  At least she came right out and said it.  Although it was after texting, talking and emailing me for a week. We put in our lunch orders and move on with the conversation. 

“Tell me about your comedy troupe?” I asked.

She proceeded to tell me about the troupe, I suppose it had a name but a can’t remember.  But they would travel all over the country performing, she said it was mostly improv kind of stuff. She mentioned some big theaters, New York, Chicago and all the time I’m thinking how cool that is, she must have a great sense of humor, though despite the witty and sarcastic texts of the past week, I have yet to see the sense of humor in person. She seemed more mechanical, maybe aloof would be a better word.

“So you don’t do that anymore?” I asked about the comedy troupe?

“I was kicked out.”  She told me.

“Kicked out?”  That seemed odd.  I could understand if she had gotten burned out, replaced by someone funnier, didn’t make the cut or whatever the process is for getting into a comedy troupe, but kicked out?  “Why?” I asked.

“Because of my divorce.”

“They kicked you out of the comedy troupe because of your divorce?”

I was confused. Katherine then tells me that they were primarily a Christian based comedy troupe and having a divorced person in the troupe was not right. She added that that is the reason she didn’t believe in God anymore, because of the comedy troupe and the fact they told her God hates divorce and by extension, her.

“Wow.  I’m sorry to hear that happened to you but I’m pretty sure God would disagree with your fellow comedians on the not loving you thing.”  We’re ten minutes into lunch and we’re talking about whether or not God loves her. 

Nothing inherently wrong with that I suppose, just not exactly what I expected.   Then again, Katherine wasn’t exactly what I expected either.  Eleven years older than I thought and not to be superficial, but easily 15 pounds heavier.

 

Although something seemed wrong about her comedy troupe story, I didn’t want to pursue it and certainly didn’t want to discuss her religious beliefs at this point.  Change the subject.

“So what do you do now?  You mentioned in your profile you were an entrepreneur, what type of business?”  I asked.

“It’s a personal services business.  I am a virtual assistant.”  She said.

Lunch arrived as I asked her what a virtual assistant was. Katherine explained that she had two clients. One was a financial consultant in Los Angeles who in her words, “travels around the country teaching average investors how to achieve financial freedom through an investment strategy that he had developed.”  The other was a billionaire Australian real estate developer.

I didn’t quite understand what it was the Australian did but according to Katherine he had cornered the market on rental property in some part of Australia or something.  The LA guy I was pretty sure was running a Ponzi scheme. 

Of course I didn’t bring that up, but did ask, “So what exactly do you do for them?”

“I do whatever they ask, book appointments for them, schedule meetings, arrange for hotels and limos.  They both do a lot of TV interviews and I schedule those for them, I do press releases and interact with the media.”

“It’s really exciting, I’m on call 24 / 7 and since my one client is in Australia I have to work crazy hours.”

“That sucks.” I said.

“No, I love it.  I drink a lot of coffee though.”

“So do you get to travel around the world a lot doing this?”

“No I work from home.”

Now Katherine had already told me she lives in the basement of her ex husbands house, an arrangement she explained was temporary until they were able to sell the house so they could both go their separate ways.  The way she described it, it seemed to make sense.

“From the basement?”

“Yea.  I do everything through the internet and over the phone.”

OK, it could be possible to do that but I had this image of Katherine sitting in a dark basement at 3:00 AM making calls to some billionaire real estate mogul in Australia and it just seemed a bit implausible. 

Billionaires don’t have full time staff to do these things?  I kind of alluded to that, trying to avoid directly questioning her but she simply responded with “I’m really good at what I do.”

What am I going to do, question that? 

She continued, “Lately I’ve have been focusing on website development and search engine optimization for my clients. She continued.  I help them increase their exposure to their target market through search techniques that ….”

Her speech again sounded rehearsed, memorized.  I spent many years in sales and marketing and recognized the elevator pitch.  You have 30 seconds to describe your business and why someone should want to work with you.  Every search engine optimization company in the country has more or less the same blurb on their website as Katherine just gave me.

If you’re in sales as I had been and you’ve had good training, you know how to ask questions, open ended questions that will get your customer talking and hopefully uncover some need that your product or service can fill.  How do you…?  Tell me about…. What are some things…?  It comes in handy when meeting people and trying to get to know them.  

“How’d you fall into this line of work?” I asked.

She kind of hesitated and gave me an answer with a lot of words in it that didn’t really make sense. I remember hearing “online presence”, “entrepreneurship conference”, resume , Craig’s List”

While she was talking I wasn’t really listening but rather was focusing on her teeth.  She did drink a lot of coffee apparently. I hoped she wasn’t a smoker too. Wait, Craig’s List?

Two incredibly wealthy businessmen halfway around the world saw your resume on Craig’s List and hired you?   Really?  I didn’t say it that way though, more like, “Wow that’s an fascinating story. Isn’t it amazing what technology can do?”

“Absolutely, I learned a lot about technology and the internet when I had my eBay store.”

“You’re eBay store?”

Yes, I was making $10,000 a month selling on eBay.

I found myself saying “Wow” a lot listening to Katherine.

"Wow!  $10,000 a month.  That’s amazing.  What did you sell?"

"Closeout items.  I’d search the internet looking for brand name manufacturers that were liquidating inventory. I would buy lots at 85-90% off retail."

Another elevator pitch.  I think I heard that exact same sentence on some get rich quick scheme someone was selling on late night TV.

Although I was getting a little skeptical I was still not at a point where I could say with certainty that she was making any of this up.  Maybe embellished a little.  It was all still possible but I wondered why she would she stop selling on eBay if she was making $10,000 a month. So I asked.

Again another plausible answer.  She needed the health insurance because after the divorce she was no longer covered under her husbands plan.  Makes sense.  But if you were making $10,000 a month, I’d think you’d be able to purchase your own health insurance.

“Not with my pre-existing condition.” She said.

Oh boy.  Here it comes “I have narcolepsy. It’s a disease where you can’t help but fall asleep.  I was on medication for it but it’s very expensive.  $3200 a month and any new insurance won’t cover it.”

Again, I can say nothing but “Wow.”

Now, I know what narcolepsy is but really know nothing about it. I think I remembered a character called Vic the Narcoleptic comic on some TV show a long time ago, but I don’t remember which one. I figured that might not be appropriate to refer to so I let it go.  Though looking back, it is funny that Katherine was narcoleptic and at least at one point a comedienne. Instead, I act sympathetic. 

“Tell me about it? It must be a very difficult thing to deal with.”

Over the next ten minutes I hear about her various escapades dealing with her narcolepsy.  She’s not allowed to drive, walk down or up stairs, can’t hold babies or operate machinery, etc. There were several near misses when she was off her medication, a trip through the median of the highway, a fall down a flight of stairs. 

“That seems like it would be terrible.” I say.  What are you supposed to say?  I wanted to make a joke but I didn’t know how she’d take it.  It was Vic Hitler, the narcoleptic comic, I remembered but I still couldn’t recall the show.

Eventually the conversation turned from former real and fictional narcoleptic comedians to relationships.  The one thing two divorced people are certain to have in common is stories about their exes or crazy adult dating stories.  Of course I was starting to think that I was in the midst of one of those crazy stories now.

I briefed over my past and situation, Katherine didn’t seem to interested and that was fine. 

Katherine explained that she had had one serious relationship since her divorce but that it didn’t work out.

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Well, he traveled a lot for work so that made it difficult.  He’d be gone for a month at a time.  Sometimes more.

“Oh that would be difficult.”  Again me being sympathetic.

“And he wouldn’t be allowed to call me or email.”  She took a bite of salad and looked around the room.

I’m thinking, OK you just throw that out there.  Let it sit and wait for me to ask.  Like telling someone you’ve got a secret that you’re not going to tell them.  Or like “ not with my pre-existing condition.” I was beginning to get a sense of the pattern in Katherine’s dialog.  She would let me ask a question then respond with an answer that clearly would require further explanation.  Stop.  Take a bite of lunch and wait.  For a moment I wanted to let it go.  Just not ask her to explain and see what happens.   But my will power was not that strong.

“Really? That’s kind of strange.  What kind of work did he do?”  I shouldn’t have asked.

“He’s in the CIA.” Another bite of salad and silence.

“Katherine really?” there was sarcasm in my voice this time. 

I was going to call her on this one. “ That’s a little hard to believe. I mean, even if he was in the CIA, I can’t imagine he would tell you.  They’re not allowed to do that are they?”

“No they’re not but he didn’t tell me until I confronted him about it.” She took a sip of iced tea.

“Go on.” I had to hear this.

At first he told me he was a technology contractor and worked for the government.  He would have to travel to Afghanistan every other month for work.  But then I noticed a pattern.

I’m noticing a pattern too Katherine.

"Whenever he wouldn’t call or email, there would be a Taliban leader killed in a drone strike. "

So naturally you put two and two together and came up with the likely explanation that your boyfriend was in the CIA and flying around killing Taliban leaders?

“So I did some research, she made the quote sign with her fingers as she said “research. “and it turns out he flies Predator drones for the CIA in Afghanistan.”

“Wow, um… I thought they flew those out of Las Vegas or something.” The best I could think of how to respond.

“Nope, Afghanistan.”

“So you…what?” I stumbled for the words. “Googled him and found this out?”

“No, of course not.” She laughed as if I were the biggest fool in the world.  How could I be so naïve as to think that information would be readily available online?

“I hacked into the CIAs computer system and looked him up.” She said with a completely straight face.  It was all there.  All of his missions.  His targets.  Everything.”

“Seriously Katherine.” Definite sarcasm now in my voice. “ You hacked into the CIA computer system, looked up your boyfriend, found all this information and then confronted him with it.  I would think he would have to have you arrested or something.” 

She laughed again, like I was some poor foolish little man who just couldn’t understand the scope of her skills.

“They never knew I was in their system.  I told you, I’m very good at what I do.”

“Wow.”  I had no idea how to respond.  So I asked for the check and excused myself to the men’s room.

There was no way I was going to see Katherine again.  I was pretty certain of that within the first few moments of our lunch.  Just the fact that she misrepresented her age by 11 years, was enough to make me lose interested, but add in the yellow teeth, the extra  15 pounds, the supposed billionaire clients, the narcolepsy, the eBay store and now, she’s telling me she’s hacking into the CIA computers to spy on her drone flying boyfriend.  I laugh.  This will be over soon and I’ll have a good story to tell.  But at this point, I had no idea HOW good.

 

When I return from the men’s room, and I’m not sure why I brought it up, but I make a comment about something that was on the wall in the restroom.  One of those advertising signs that hang in front of the urinals.  There was a funny add or something that I figured might be a safe conversation piece while I wait for the check.

Katherine doesn’t miss a beat and declares, “Oh,  I invented those.”

“What?”

The signs that hang over the urinals.  She had a name for them, captive display ads or something like that.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You invented them?”  Katherine was either the most interesting person on earth or… well, nuts.

“The company I worked for a few years back produced and marketed them but I came up with the idea.”

The urge to just shout “Bullshit” was growing stronger.  Not in an angry or accusatory way but in a “how dumb do you thing I am kind of way.”

"So you, what?  Have a patent on them?"

My name is on the patent, but the company owns the rights. Since I worked for them my idea was their property they claim.”

I felt like I was being lead along, spoon fed information in a way that she felt was certain to leave me begging for more stories of her amazing life. I suppose some people might buy into her stories.  Some of them.  Were it just the eBay store, sure plausible.  The Billionaire client.  Maybe. Narcolepsy?  I can’t question that.  Comedy Troupe?  What’s not to believe. CIA boyfriend?  Hacking the CIA compuers. Maybe this lunch is all just one improv skit. Am I being punked? Candid camera? She certainly could be making all this up as she goes along. But to believe the entirety of her life story…

And now her claim to have invented urinal advertising?  I suppose it could be true, after all, if you’re going to make up a story about inventing something, would that really be the thing you would claim to have invented?  

Katherine continued, “I actually have about a dozen patents to my name.”

The voice in my head now screaming, “Come on!  You have got to be kidding me.” I wanted to press her, see how far she would take it. A dozen patents?  Really?  What else Katherine?  Which Apollo mission were you the commander of?  How many Indi 500 wins did you have?  Did he originally have the equation as E=MC3 until you corrected him?

 “Wow.  That’s impressive.”  Was all I said. I was tired of this game and wanted to leave.

Then Katherine continued as if recalling a fond memory, “Yea, I liked working there and didn’t want to leave.”

Don’t do it. I thought.  Don’t bite.  It’s a trap.  Don’t … “So why did you?” I asked. Ahhhh!

Even with all the previous stories, I didn’t see the next one coming.  Katherine the narcoleptic comic, with an ex boyfriend in the CIA, billionaire clients around the world that she works for from her ex husbands basement when she’s not hacking into the CIA’s computer system or making $10,000 a month on eBay or inventing urinal advertising or any number of other patented items had one more story for me.

  

“This is a little unbelievable.”  She begins.

I’m thinking Oh my God, did she really just say that?

“A couple of years ago I won the Powerball jackpot.”

I don’t remember for certain, but I had to have laughed.  I can’t think about that moment now without laughing.  What a perfect way to wrap up my journey through Katherine’s real or imagined life than to hear the story about her being a lottery winner. 

I wasn’t going to stand up and call her a liar, I didn’t care.  And I did kind of owe her a little because this lunch, though not at all what I had expected was entertaining.  But from a practical standpoint, how do you respond to that?  Of course you want to ask her how much?  Are you paying for lunch then?

But I thought it would be kind of rude to ask.  Even considering all of Katherine’s other absurd claims, I tried to play it cool and let her tell me what she wants to tell me about it. 

“It really isn’t that big of a deal although it caused a lot of problems at work.  It was a group win.  There were 12 of us co-workers that went in on it and after taxes and everything we each get $30,000 a year for 26 years.” She explained.

“Wow.” Again with the wow. “Congratulations.” Not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t congratulate me.  It was probably one of the worst things that could have happened to me.” She said.

And I, like probably every other non-lottery winner, just thought I’d like to have something terrible like winning the lottery happen to me.

“Really?”

“We all ended up fighting and hating each other at work.  I loved that job but had to leave because I couldn’t stand the animosity that developed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

Did I just say I’m sorry you won the lottery?  I didn’t pursue the lottery topic further, making some excuse of how I had to be back at work or something.  Lunch was over, I would not be seeing Katherine again but I did have a great story to tell about dating.  She didn’t offer to pay or even split the check.  As we left she gave me one of the “non-hug” hugs and I thanked her for having lunch with me.  I think she thanked me to but don’t recall.   I do remember the awkward moment when she said, “I’ll talk to you again?” 

I don’t think any guy knows how to handle that situation.  Did she NOT feel as awkward as I did at lunch?  Could she not see I had no interest in her whatsoever?  Or was she trying to make me come out and say that I’m not interested in seeing her again.  Make me squirm. 

Does anyone really want an honest answer to those kind of question?  Did she really want me to look her in the eye and say, “No I won’t be calling you .”   Of course that wouldn’t be awkward at all.

I caved.  “Sure.  Enjoy the rest of your day.”  What the hell else am I going to say. She smiled and left.  Stupid me.  I thought that was the end of it.  That night I get a text.

“Thanks for lunch.  I had a good time.”

How could you possibly have thought that was a good time, I thought.  I didn’t respond.

Next day she texts: What cha doin?

I don’t reply.

Later that day another:  Hey, I sent you a couple of texts. Everything OK?

Now keep in mind that I’m not good at this.  This was only like the third date I’d had since I became single again.  Prior to that it was 16 years since I’d been on a first date and I wasn’t any good at it then.  I don’t know the rules, the etiquette or anything about dating.  The internet didn’t even exist the last time I was dating, much less e-mails, Facebook or texting.  That said however, I’m pretty sure that a lack of response is generally regarded as a clue that one is not interested.  So I don’t reply.

Next day I get an email.

“I’m a little upset.  I thought we had a good time and you said we’d talk again.  I send you texts and nothing.  No reply. I would appreciate a reply, even if you’re not interested in me.”

Oh s**t.  This is not going to be easy I’m thinking.  Oh s**t! Does she know where I live?  No.  But if she can hack into the CIA’s computers undetected she can certainly find me. No I’m safe, she’d fall asleep because of the narcolepsy and never make it here.  Wait, she wouldn’t have to come here, she could call up her CIA ex boyfriend and he’d call in a drone strike on me.  Maybe I should call the CIA and turn her in. 

What if urinal advertising was just the tip of the iceberg of her inventions.  After that what if she invented boyfriend exterminating lasers, giant robot dogs that will attack me or a device that could electrocute me through my keyboard?  What do I do?

I decided I would try the honest approach.  Always the best policy right?

I reply: Katherine, Thank you for having lunch with me the other day.  It sounds like you have a very interesting life.  Unfortunately I don’t think we’re a match.  I wish you all the best.”

I don’t know what the hell to say in a message like that.  And I’m sure I said it wrong or sounded condescending or whatever.  I think the woman might be borderline insane, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings or be mean.  I’m just not interested.  She’ll understand, I thought.  She’ll move on.  Then I get another email from her.

“Why?”  that’s it.  Just the word Why.

Oh crap.  Really?

I don’t respond.

Another email from her:  Please tell me what it is about me that you don’t like.  I need to know.  It hurts worse to not know.

I don’t reply.

A text: I know you don’t want to talk to me but please respond.  I need to know what it is about me that I need to work on.  I’m not mad.  I just want to improve myself so I can find someone.

You know those old war movies were the soldier is walking through the rice paddy and he hears a “click” as he steps on a land mine.  And he yells out, “S**t! Sarg! Help me. I’m on a land mine!”  That’s kind of how I was feeling about then.  Except there is no Sergeant to help me. 

If there is a guy manual, it probably would advise me not to reply.  But I did.

Katherine, There is nothing wrong with you. (So much for the honesty tactic) I just don’t think we’re a good fit.  Please move on.

Yea I knew that wouldn’t work.  So in the next exchange of e-mails she begs me to tell her why I’m not interested.  What I saw or didn’t see in her that made me think that.  I dodge it as best I can.  After all, does anyone really want to here that someone they just met thinks their coming off as a lunatic?  But she is unrelenting and as weird as it sounds, after a while she begins to make a little sense.  A little.

Her argument was that this has happened before.  Guys meet her and never want to go out again.  All she wanted to know is, from a guy’s perspective, why they are not interested.  What could she do to improve herself to become more attractive to men?  Is it the way she looks? The things she says?  What? 

Again, I don’t want to be mean or hurt her feelings.  But if she piles on the BS like she did with me, she is never going to meet anyone.  As dumb a move as this may sound like, I agree to be completely honest and tell her what my impression was if she agrees to just let it go with me and move on.  She agrees.

I preface all this by telling her that this is just my impression.  I may be wrong.  This is not going to be a discussion and I’m not going to debate anything.  This is what I saw.  Looking back at it, I must have been an idiot.

In an email, I explain to Katherine that and 11 year age discrepancy that she wasn’t forthcoming about is a huge red flag.  I probably should have just stopped there, but I didn’t.

I continued, “But honestly Katherine, the billionaire clients around the world, the eBay store making $10,000 a month, Hacking into the CIA computers?  Inventing urinal advertising? And finally you winning the lottery?  It’s all just too unbelievable.  I just don’t think you’re being honest and I don’t want to pursue this.  I hope that helps you in some way. Goodbye.”

There, please let this be done.

I receive a reply that night.  “Thank You” was all it said.

Whew.  It’s over.  This will make a good story I’m thinking and can’t wait to pass it along to friends.

I suppose if there is a lesson in this it’s that we should just be ourselves.  It’s not easy meeting new people and meeting people online without any previous interactions with them is scary.  You have just a few minutes to make an impression and if you make a bad one, it’s over before it begins.  There really is no getting to know you period.

I have always tried to be myself in situations like that.  Why be anything else?  No matter how much I try to candy coat it, the real me will come out eventually. 

I think Katherine was a highly intelligent person who probably has not accomplished as much in her life as she had hoped she would.  Now she’s in her 40s, single, living in her ex husbands basement and trying to make a living. Not the place in life she expected she would be.

  

She probably IS a virtual assistant, or trying to become one, although I didn’t buy the billionaire clients for a second.  But all of Katherine’s other “accomplishments?” She didn’t need to make up that stuff for other people to find her interesting.  Just the fact that she has the kind of imagination that COULD come up with that makes her interesting. However unbelievable those story’s were.  I hoped that she would understand that someday.

And then I get an email from Katherine.

Thank you for your honesty, she wrote. I appreciate it.  Yes, I may have exaggerated a bit when we had lunch.  I’m sorry. But just for your information please read the attached article.  Goodbye.

I opened it.

It was a newspaper article.  There was a picture of Katherine and eleven other people holding a giant check for $20,000,000.  The headline was “ Employees of Local Company Hit Powerball Jackpot. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if the drones were on their way.

Unbelievable.