The moment before the wheel spins

I was standing there, looking at the screen where the wheel would soon spin for everyone. The code was working, the design looked clean, and the traffic was starting to trickle in. But my mind kept circling back to the list of prizes.

Double-checking the fine print

I’d run through the percentages a dozen times, making sure the odds were fair and realistic. It’s easy to get excited and promise something flashy, but then you’re stuck with a promise you can’t really keep. I wanted people to feel like they had a genuine shot, not like they were being tricked into giving up their email.So I opened the prize configuration one last time. The ‘grand prize’ was a decent discount, not a free car. The ‘consolation’ prizes were small perks, but they were real and useful. I remember thinking that if I landed on the smallest one myself, I’d still feel okay about it.

The quiet click of launching

There’s a specific feeling when you finally hit the button to go live. It’s not a big celebration; it’s more of a quiet commitment. You’re putting this thing out into the world, and now it has to stand on its own. The fairness you built in is what it’s going to live or die by.I watched the first few spins come in from early visitors. Seeing someone win that mid-tier discount felt good. It wasn’t a life-changing event for them, but it was a positive little interaction. That was the whole point, really—to start a relationship with a bit of honest goodwill.The wheel kept spinning in the background, a small, automated gesture of chance. My job was done once I was confident the mechanics were transparent. The rest was up to the people clicking and whatever luck they brought with them.