How would you react if you were approached on the street and handed an envelope filled with money? No seeming rhyme nor reason.
An anonymous millionaire is currently putting people to the test by handing out £1,000 to those he randomly encounters. The Sunday Telegraph spent the day with him whilst he paced the streets of London hunting for 10 lucky recipients.
The reactions were varied, from the stunned to the suspicious to the simply delighted.
He has given away close to £100,000 to people he has met around the world. He hands those that he chooses a sleek card explaining his project and allows them 48 hours to get in touch. Sometimes he adds in a treasure hunt for extra entertainment and leaves the invites hidden in bookshops or landmarks and sends clues out from his Twitter account
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Having agreed to maintain his anonymity I met ‘Mr Lucky.’ He is from London, in his late thirties, with dishevelled hair and appeared wearing rolled-up jeans, high-top trainers and with a camera slung around his neck. He earned his fortune working for an insurance company abroad and resigned last year having realised he had more money than he knew what to do with.
"Their ideas were much more generous, interesting and responsible than mine."
After cancelling his space flight and struggling to choose a worthy cause for his cash, he decided to set up the WeAreLucky project.
"I didn’t want to just pass on my luck, I also wanted to share the responsibility. I decided to give away £1,000 every day. All I'd ask is that they'd do something positive with the cash. I’d take their picture and ask them to fill a brief questionnaire with their hopes and intentions for the money."
But is handing over the responsibility to others, really the responsible thing to do? How does he know the money will be put to good use? "I don’t," he shrugged. "I leave it to them. I’m not going to judge or start checking up on them. Sometimes you have to just believe in people," he said with almost child-like enthusiasm.
Once Mr Lucky had reached a certain level of wealth the extra income began to mean less to him and he began to wonder what more he could get for his pound: "Some people ask me why I just don’t give directly to a charity. Sometimes I might give the money to someone who then donates it to a cause I would have supported anyway.
"That may seem pointless. But I get a kick from bringing another person into the loop. I get a warm feeling when I give it to them and then they get a warm feeling when they give it to the charity." These unquantifiable ‘warm feelings’ are the non- monetary value added. The extra bang on the buck that he’s seeking.
The first lucky person seemed to fall out of the sky. We were standing on Charing Cross Road in central London when we witnessed a young lady running after a man to return his iPhone. Having unknowingly dropped it, the man was grateful and thanked her profusely. Mr Lucky smiled, this was an obvious one.
Noelia, we later discovered, is from Spain and is in London doing an internship. She shrieked as she peeked into the envelope filled with £50 notes and scanned the horizon as though expecting a hidden camera team to step out. Her first words in hesitant English were: "You believe in me? Thank you so much for believing in me."
But would that act of belief in her to do good inspire something? Does making that leap of faith in others galvanise something unexpected? She was not immediately sure how she would spend the money, she wanted to think about it. But as we left her making animated calls to her family in Spain Mr Lucky told me he felt confident.
The second lucky person of the day was a voiceover agent, Hannah, who having seen a clue on Twitter donned her running shoes and appeared wide-eyed and short of breath in a pub in Soho, where we were waiting.
Over a celebratory gin and tonic she told us that half would go a colleague she wanted to help out and the rest to a hospice in Watford, Hertfordshire. "I’ve never even been to Watford itself. But I promised I’d do a sponsored walk with a friend for the cause and because everyone is struggling right now I have failed to raise much money."
"Is it the Peace hospice?" Mr Lucky asked. It transpired that this is the very hospice that looked after Mr Lucky’s father before he died. We sat pondering the chances.
Once the adrenaline of that giveaway faded, I could see Mr Lucky become anxious for the next encounter. And I understood why. The immediacy of the reaction was intoxicating. "I love the direct impact," he explained shifting in his seat. "Nothing gets lost on administration and bureaucracy. Sometimes the money is enough to solve a particular problem for someone, to make it just disappear. Some causes feel like they need endless sums, bottomless pits of money."
Is that what brings increased satisfaction? Is it better to make a big impact on a small problem than a small impact on a big one? He told me the story of Marina, who he picked out in a pub. She gave her money to her 79-year-old neighbour who had been living without hot water for six years, fixing her plight instantly.
Like Marina, all ten participants that day, seemed to feel the weight of responsibility.
I met a previous participant who despite having had the money in his account for two months had not spent it. "I am focused on making the right choice. I will wait till I come across it," Ricardo told me.
We walked the streets and ended up in Vauxhall, south London, seeking out something unusual in the crowds. Mr Lucky decided to leave an invite in the appropriately named ‘Lucky Fish Bar.’ He explained the concept vaguely to the owner, Linda, and asked if she would hold an invite whilst he posted a clue on his Twitter feed. Her excitement at the prospect was so endearing that Mr Lucky could not resist. "This one is for you, Lucky Linda," he said handing her an envelope.
Her eyes widened and welled up: "I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it" she said. "I’ve always been told to work hard, to work every day, but I’ve never had this," she said clutching the envelope. She told us that her husband is recovering from a serious illness and she wanted to spend the money on health-related products for his recovery.
In an age of both greed and austerity, witnessing such spontaneous giving is rare. I see the joy on Mr Lucky’s face as he gave the envelope and on ‘Lucky’ Linda’s as she received it.
I was happy to just soak up the atmosphere and reflect on the project. Is it effective and what does it inspire? Ultimately it forced me to pause and shift my focus away from the question of what we need to make us happy to the less examined question, what can we give to make us happy?
When I recounted the day to a friend, I could see her wondering if she had come close to Mr Lucky. "I don’t think I would even turn around if someone tapped me on the shoulder. I always just assume they want something" she said. I told her: "There is still time though. You could still get lucky. He’s still out there. This is something worth turning around for."
We-are-lucky.com; or follow @wearelucky1 on Twitter
After cancelling his space flight and struggling to choose a worthy cause for his cash, he decided to set up the WeAreLucky project.
"I didn’t want to just pass on my luck, I also wanted to share the responsibility. I decided to give away £1,000 every day. All I'd ask is that they'd do something positive with the cash. I’d take their picture and ask them to fill a brief questionnaire with their hopes and intentions for the money."
But is handing over the responsibility to others, really the responsible thing to do? How does he know the money will be put to good use? "I don’t," he shrugged. "I leave it to them. I’m not going to judge or start checking up on them. Sometimes you have to just believe in people," he said with almost child-like enthusiasm.
Once Mr Lucky had reached a certain level of wealth the extra income began to mean less to him and he began to wonder what more he could get for his pound: "Some people ask me why I just don’t give directly to a charity. Sometimes I might give the money to someone who then donates it to a cause I would have supported anyway.
"That may seem pointless. But I get a kick from bringing another person into the loop. I get a warm feeling when I give it to them and then they get a warm feeling when they give it to the charity." These unquantifiable ‘warm feelings’ are the non- monetary value added. The extra bang on the buck that he’s seeking.
The first lucky person seemed to fall out of the sky. We were standing on Charing Cross Road in central London when we witnessed a young lady running after a man to return his iPhone. Having unknowingly dropped it, the man was grateful and thanked her profusely. Mr Lucky smiled, this was an obvious one.
Noelia, we later discovered, is from Spain and is in London doing an internship. She shrieked as she peeked into the envelope filled with £50 notes and scanned the horizon as though expecting a hidden camera team to step out. Her first words in hesitant English were: "You believe in me? Thank you so much for believing in me."
But would that act of belief in her to do good inspire something? Does making that leap of faith in others galvanise something unexpected? She was not immediately sure how she would spend the money, she wanted to think about it. But as we left her making animated calls to her family in Spain Mr Lucky told me he felt confident.
The second lucky person of the day was a voiceover agent, Hannah, who having seen a clue on Twitter donned her running shoes and appeared wide-eyed and short of breath in a pub in Soho, where we were waiting.
Over a celebratory gin and tonic she told us that half would go a colleague she wanted to help out and the rest to a hospice in Watford, Hertfordshire. "I’ve never even been to Watford itself. But I promised I’d do a sponsored walk with a friend for the cause and because everyone is struggling right now I have failed to raise much money."
"Is it the Peace hospice?" Mr Lucky asked. It transpired that this is the very hospice that looked after Mr Lucky’s father before he died. We sat pondering the chances.
Once the adrenaline of that giveaway faded, I could see Mr Lucky become anxious for the next encounter. And I understood why. The immediacy of the reaction was intoxicating. "I love the direct impact," he explained shifting in his seat. "Nothing gets lost on administration and bureaucracy. Sometimes the money is enough to solve a particular problem for someone, to make it just disappear. Some causes feel like they need endless sums, bottomless pits of money."
Is that what brings increased satisfaction? Is it better to make a big impact on a small problem than a small impact on a big one? He told me the story of Marina, who he picked out in a pub. She gave her money to her 79-year-old neighbour who had been living without hot water for six years, fixing her plight instantly.
Like Marina, all ten participants that day, seemed to feel the weight of responsibility.
I met a previous participant who despite having had the money in his account for two months had not spent it. "I am focused on making the right choice. I will wait till I come across it," Ricardo told me.
We walked the streets and ended up in Vauxhall, south London, seeking out something unusual in the crowds. Mr Lucky decided to leave an invite in the appropriately named ‘Lucky Fish Bar.’ He explained the concept vaguely to the owner, Linda, and asked if she would hold an invite whilst he posted a clue on his Twitter feed. Her excitement at the prospect was so endearing that Mr Lucky could not resist. "This one is for you, Lucky Linda," he said handing her an envelope.
Her eyes widened and welled up: "I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it" she said. "I’ve always been told to work hard, to work every day, but I’ve never had this," she said clutching the envelope. She told us that her husband is recovering from a serious illness and she wanted to spend the money on health-related products for his recovery.
In an age of both greed and austerity, witnessing such spontaneous giving is rare. I see the joy on Mr Lucky’s face as he gave the envelope and on ‘Lucky’ Linda’s as she received it.
I was happy to just soak up the atmosphere and reflect on the project. Is it effective and what does it inspire? Ultimately it forced me to pause and shift my focus away from the question of what we need to make us happy to the less examined question, what can we give to make us happy?
When I recounted the day to a friend, I could see her wondering if she had come close to Mr Lucky. "I don’t think I would even turn around if someone tapped me on the shoulder. I always just assume they want something" she said. I told her: "There is still time though. You could still get lucky. He’s still out there. This is something worth turning around for."
We-are-lucky.com; or follow @wearelucky1 on Twitter
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