The strange, quiet week after winning $20 million

I keep thinking about those two people who checked their tickets on the morning of July 26th. Twenty million dollars each, just sitting there. Can you imagine? Not the moment of discovery—that’s the part everyone focuses on—but the strange, liminal week that follows. The bit where you still have your old coffee mug and your same pair of slippers, but everything underneath has fundamentally changed.

Actually, I should say upfront—because it’s important to me that we’re always honest here—that Lotto is entirely random. No pattern, no system, no special set of numbers improves your chances. It’s pure chance. I love diving into these stories as entertainment (and please, only ever play within your budget), but the numbers themselves are completely unpredictable. Which makes those two winners’ stories even more fascinating to me. They’re not luckier or cleverer than anyone else; they just happened to hold the right ticket on the right night.

The Appointment

In New Zealand, winning this kind of money isn’t like the movies where you walk into a bank with a cardboard cheque. When you win $20 million, Lotto NZ sets up a private appointment. You’re not queuing at the local dairy, that’s for sure. There’s verification, paperwork, and crucially, they connect you with legal and financial guidance right away. I find this detail comforting—there’s a structure, a process. You’re not just shoved out the door with a bank transfer and a pat on the back. That first meeting must be surreal, sitting in a room knowing that by the time you leave, your bank account will look completely different.

Choosing Your Silence

Both July winners had the option to stay completely private, which I think is one of the most underrated luxuries in this country. No press conference, no photos holding the giant cheque unless you want them. With record wins comes media interest, obviously—journalists start digging, neighbours get curious, and suddenly everyone has a story about how they "almost bought that ticket." But New Zealand law protects your right to anonymity. You could tell your boss you’re taking a sabbatical, fix your mum’s roof, and nobody has to know why. That first week must feel like being in a secret club of one, carrying around the biggest news of your life while pretending to care about the weather.

The Tax-Free Reality

Here’s the part that still makes me smile: every cent of that $20 million is yours. No tax on winnings in New Zealand. When they say twenty million, they mean twenty million. You’ll pay tax on the interest once you invest it, sure, but the principal is untouched. I think that’s why the financial guidance is so vital—that first week involves meetings where professionals help you understand that you’re not just rich, you’re “set up the next three generations” rich, if you’re careful. It’s probably the only time in your life when accountants feel like rock stars.

I wonder if, by day seven, it starts to feel real. Or if it takes months. Maybe you stand in your kitchen on the eighth morning, buttering toast, and think, “Oh, right. I don’t have to check my bank balance before I do the grocery shop anymore.” The numbers are random, the outcome is pure chance, but the aftermath is deeply human—quiet, practical, and completely surreal.