I bought a lottery ticket for the first time in years this week. I was at a gas station in rural Mississippi getting a bag of ice and filling up the gas tank while my girlfriend ran into the store to buy our groceries. This is how we spend a few hours every three days. It’s the not-so-Instagram-able part of van life. 

When I was a kid, my grandmother and I used to take a ride to the gas station at the same frequency to buy lottery tickets. “Can’t win if you don’t play,” my grandmother would say on her way into the store with a smile. “Maybe today is my lucky day.” If anything good happened to anyone in my family, her response was the same: you better get a lottery ticket, as if God was sending bat signals. I do it, too. I tell people to buy lottery tickets when they’re experiencing good luck knowing that what people call “luck” is often a cover for a lot of hard work. 

I understand now as an adult that the lottery was the only way my grandmother saw anything changing in her life. My Nana lived below the poverty line. She never had extra money, energy, or time to imagine anything but the path she was on. She was so busy working hard in a reliable job that she never fathomed anything could change unless she got this once-in-a-lifetime windfall of cash. She had to have a whole lot of luck. 

This is when well-meaning but often harmful people might say she should have just worked harder. Trust me when I say she could not have worked harder than she did. A 40-hour workweek was lazy for her. 

As of the census in 2021, just under 38 million people live below the poverty line. That’s about 12% of Americans. In the community where I bought the lottery ticket? 30% of residents live below the poverty line. Their unemployment rate is less than 2% so it’s safe to say these people are working just as hard as my Nana did. They’re just living in the same world she did. A world that so easily kills the imagination. 

Every time we drive through a town like this (there are many in this region), I remember exactly why I care so much about writing better job postings. That’s why I’m building new trainings for hiring managers on how to better define requirements and hire the right person. (Intrigued? Let’s talk.) 

As much as buying a lottery ticket gave me a little lingering hope, a job can give people hope too. I know what it feels like to be broke and find a job that could change everything. 

Hope for a new life. 

A new paycheck. 

A new meal plan. 

Room for imagination. 

I know what it’s like to have it actually change your path, too. When we tell the truth and don’t copy and paste exaggerated requirements from some machine that doesn’t know our role, we allow anyone who’s capable of doing the work an opportunity. A stepping stone towards giving themselves more room to breathe.

Now, I’m looking to do work with those hiring managers so more folks from every background can win. I don’t just want them to imagine a new life. I want them to actually get that job because hiring managers understand their transferable skills. 

It’s special to know I can influence people I’ll never meet, even in a little town like this where the only way most folks can imagine life changing would be winning the lottery.