I’ve been playing the lottery lately. Not the real lottery, mind you. I’m not much for gambling. No, I’ve been playing the Nugget lottery.
Do you win a gold nugget in this lottery? No. Do you win anything in this lottery? Not exactly. You win the chance to buy something. That’s right — I’m playing a game for the opportunity to give this retailer a couple of hundred bucks to sell me its product.
What is a Nugget? It’s basically a bunch of couch cushions marketed as building blocks that can be used to build a couch, or a fort or whatever else your kid might imagine. I can hardly keep the couch cushions and pillows where they belong in our living room, so I’m hoping this Nugget will distract my kids from taking apart the real furniture.
Whether the product is great or the marketing is great, whatever they’re doing is working because these things sell fast. So fast that as soon as more orders could be made on their website, they got overwhelmed — the online equivalent of a Black Friday mad dash into a popular store.
This lottery is their solution, allowing consumers to enter for their chance to “win” without stressing over being the first in line.
It’s not without its frustrations. My first entry into the lottery didn’t go so well. I got the circle of doom — you know, that loading symbol that just keeps loading and loading without ever actually loading. Once I finally got registered, I later got an email that in fact my registration didn’t work.
This week, though, I successfully entered the Nugget lottery. And I lost. Next chance to win is next week. Don’t go thinking you need one of these, too, and lower my chances of winning.
If I’m so lucky as to win the opportunity to buy one of these things, it’s likely going to be a Christmas present. And I bet this purchasing process beats the heck out of driving to toy store after toy store in search of the latest must-have.
I must say I’m glad to be a parent in the age of Amazon, when my kid can ask for a “fire truck to ride on,” I search, hit buy, and there it is at my house.
Of course, that’s got its disadvantages, too.
One of the kids asked me to buy candy corn. I put them in my online grocery shopping cart. When I picked him up the next day, he asked where the candy corn was. “I didn’t buy it yet,” I told him. He was at least a little perturbed. The next day we repeated that scenario. And the next day. Patience is hard in the age of Amazon.
He’s also asked for a Jeep he can ride in. I put it on his Amazon wish list. He didn’t seem to understand the difference between “wish list” and “shopping cart.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t know about the Nugget. I don’t need weeks of questions about when we’re getting a Nugget.
Waiting is probably good for us. At least, it’s good for my kids — I want that ladder I just bought on Amazon by yesterday.
We’re all going to be doing some waiting next week. Elections offices aren’t Amazon. And thankfully we don’t elect our government representatives by online lotteries.
We’ll all just have to sit around and wait the old-fashioned way.
Shannon Casas is editor in chief of The Times and a North Hall resident.