A limited number of rewards

We had a set number of discount codes to give out, and the seasonal promotion was the perfect time to use them. I remember setting up the wheel, thinking about how to make it feel fair without overpromising anything. It was more about offering a chance than guaranteeing a win.

Watching the wheel spin

You could see the anticipation in the way people leaned in. Some were hopeful for the bigger discount, others just seemed to enjoy the simple act of spinning. It was a quiet kind of engagement, not the loud, flashy kind.I noticed the small smiles more than anything. Even when someone landed on a smaller offer, there was usually a shrug, a nod. It felt like they appreciated the transparency—that we weren't hiding the fact that most rewards were modest. That mattered more than I'd expected.

When the last code was claimed

There was a definite shift in the room's energy when the final reward was gone. The option to spin was still there, but the outcome was different. I kept the wheel live, but the message changed to reflect that the promotion had ended.It was interesting to see that some people still spun it, just to see what they would have gotten. That told me the mechanism itself had value, separate from the prize. They were engaging with the idea of chance, not just the discount.Afterward, I thought a lot about that balance. It's easy to focus on the conversion, the click. But respecting someone's time and attention, even when you have nothing left to give, builds a different kind of connection. It's quieter, but it lasts.