I liked a TikTok and now I'm a millionaire
It really is that easy 💰💸🤑
Magical people are always finding me on TikTok.
I’ll be scrolling, scrolling, scrolling and they will say, “stop scrolling,” as if they can SEE ME through the screen. How do they know? Only a psychic or a witch could do something like that.
“If you’re seeing this on your FYP, it found you for a reason.” Okay, wow. This was already spooky, but now that I’m noticing the video has no hashtags?? God herself must’ve put this video in front of my weak little human eyes.
The magic people of TikTok make me a lot of promises. They flip their tarot cards and tell me I’m oh so close to that career I want. That good luck is right around the corner. That Tauruses are the most powerful sign in the month of February (and March and April). One lady who keeps finding me waves her fingers like jellyfish tentacles, calmly informing me that she’s cleared my sacral chakra of all negative energy. I can’t believe I’m so lucky, so special.
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Some of them ask for a lil something in return. The most common request is to “claim” the energy/fortune-telling/Taurus power by liking the video and leaving a comment. I skipped this part for years. “If it’s meant for me, it will find me,” I repeated, ignoring the irony of having learned that mantra from TikTok, too.
“If it’s meant for me, it will find me.” No likes, no comments. Call me stingy, but I reserve my likes and comments for funny hamsters.
Until last Monday.
I was living my life to the fullest, sitting on the toilet, scrolling through TikTok. A beautiful goddess, lavishly draped in silks and tinkling with gold jewelry commanded me: “Stop scrolling.” What else could I do? She had fake eyelashes on for chrissakes; she was obviously very powerful.
“If this video is finding you, it is meant for you,” she crooned. Wait, that sounded so much like my mantra … meant … for … me.
“No hashtags, no sounds, we are destined to find each other.” Lady, whatever you say. For some reason, maybe because of her purple lighting set up that she definitely didn’t order off Amazon by searching “TikTok lighting”, I fully believed her.
“If you are seeing this before February 29th, you have been blessed.” It was February 19th, I was ten days early!!! “In the next 24 hours, you will be gifted a huge sum of money. Abundance is your birthright; you will have so much money, you won’t know what to do with it.”
And then, I swear, she made eye contact with me.
“You cannot receive abundance unless you claim it.” Text popped up with clear instructions: “Like and comment to claim.”
My thumb found the heart. Tap. That was easy.
I opened the comments. There were over 450 of them. “I claim this,” “222,” “I’m READY!!”
“Claiming!” I typed. And then for emphasis, I added a little prayer hands emoji. That oughta do it, I thought as I flushed.
The rest of my Monday was normal. I worked, I typed, I fretted about making dinner. By the time I plopped down on the couch for my evening scroll-a-thon, I’d pretty much forgotten my earlier encounter with the magic money goddess lady.
I opened TikTok and checked on the family with the funny baby I like, when my mindless social media-ing was interrupted by a call. Unknown number from Washington D.C. That’s where some of my family lives, so I picked up.
“Hello, I’m calling for Christina Wolfgram,” said a voice that sounded like its owner was standing up very straight.
“And whomst is calling for her?” I asked.
“This is the IRS.” My intestines lurched. “We are calling to inform Ms. Wolfgram that she’s been overpaying her taxes for the last 18 years and we are sending her a check for $250,000.”
“Okay, cool, I’ll tell her,” I said, hanging up. Prank calls are only funny if I’m the one making them. I scrolled for four more hours and went to sleep.
But the next morning, I woke up to six missed calls. They’d all left voicemails. I must be due for a dentist appointment, I thought.
The first voicemail was from my bank. Because $250,000 had been deposited in my account, the bank was giving me a present of $50,000 more. The second voicemail was from a lawyer. Apparently, my great-great-grandmother left her entire estate to her “great-great-granddaughter, as long as she has a cute cat and likes leopard print.” Something about a castle, something about the biggest trust fund they’d ever seen.
The third voicemail was from my dentist. She insisted I let her check my gums, they were inflamed the last time I came in.
The next voicemail was from The Lottery. A $10 ticket I bought five years ago at the LA liquor store I frequented (they had cheap sparkly water and homemade candy) turned out to be the mega jackpot winner. After taxes, I’d be the proud owner of at least 750,000 dollar bills.
And the last two voicemails were from producers. Did I have time to appear on The View? Can Vogue come over and ask you 73 questions? Does your cat have a modeling agent because he is really beautiful.
So, yeah, anyways … I’m, like, super rich now.
I bought a few of those gigantic feather boa robes and wear them over the pjs I got from Ross a few years back. In case you were wondering, those fancy robes do have pockets, and my pockets are stuffed with cash so I can throw it in the air or give it to people walking dogs I think are cute.
Cooking was something I did when I was poor; now I eat out for every meal. At first, I stuck to the restaurants that had four $’s on Yelp, but all of their serving sizes were so tiny. If I order shrimp scampi, I need more than just one shrimp, no matter how artfully it’s presented! I usually tip 100% unless the server compliments my robe. Then they get 200%. And yes, obviously I bring my accountant with me to do the math.
My apartment is still messy, but now instead of scattered books and art supplies, the floor is littered with priceless jewels. Ugh, I keep saying I’ll make room on a shelf for them, but you know how it is. There’s not enough space with all my tiaras.
Mister hasn’t been affected by the change at all. He eats pure canned rabbit from his golden bowl and poops in a to-scale Buckingham Palace replica litter box.
People keep asking me for financial advice, and I will always say the same thing: Claim abundance from the magic people on TikTok.
A scam? No.
Why would they take all that time and effort to make something up?
😂😭
I guess now is a good time to admit I didn’t win the lottery. Yet.
This gave me a good giggle! Thank you
Claiming! 🙏