Never Taken Seriously: A Sad Story

By Anneli Poutiainen

"As I leave the casino thinking never again, a film runs on a loop through my head: there´s a stack of unpaid bills and lost money I can never get back. I feel a tightening in my temples. Also playing over and over in my head is the television commercial in which a high-ranking military officer proclaims that money spent gambling with the Slot Machine Association is for a worthy cause. The first time I saw that commercial, I felt like kicking the screen into million pieces."


"I´m full of optimism after my first hypnotic treatment. Immediately the next day, I rush to the casino to request a self-exclusion from gambling. I have made serious vow to get out of this roulette hell, and one way to do that is to be forbidden from entering the casino."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books on Demand
• Release date: Aug 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9789523302143

Anneli Poutiainen

Luulosairas vuokraisäntä on helsinkiläisen eläkkeellä olevan opettajan kolmas kirja. Aiemmat hänen kirjoittamansa kirjat ovat Rulettipäiväkirja (vuonna 2008, Nemo) sekä Suomalaista kotouttamista (BoD).

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Table Of Contents

Nimiösivu

Copyright

Never Taken Seriously:

Chasing the Responsibility of the Finnish Gambling Monopoly Holder

by Anneli Poutiainen

Translated from Finnish by Melissa Airas

Roulette is one of the world's oldest casino games. Developed by French mathematician Blaise Pascal in the 1600s, the game spread to Europe and the United States in the nineteenth century. It has been played in Finland since 1969. A roulette table is attended by a croupier, or dealer, who is also known as the banker. The croupier sells chips, sets the roulette wheel in motion–spinning the wheel in one direction, then releasing the ball in the opposite direction around the track–and distributes payouts, also in chips. Roulette players try to guess on which numbered pocket the ball will stop by placing their chips on any single number or combination of numbers they choose. They can also make so-called even money bets (red, black, odd, even, 1-18, 19-36, dozen, high, low). Each type of bet has a name and a specific payout. Players can place many bets or combinations of bets at one time. European roulette tables have thirty-seven numbers (0-36): every second number is black, and the rest are red. Zero is typically green.

To begin with

I want to try and describe what it's like to live with a gambling addiction in Finland. The events in this journal span from the early 1990s to the turn of the twenty-first century. My story is about what it's like to be hooked on roulette: how I got started playing, how gambling became a compulsion for me, and what kind of help I got from the Finnish healthcare system. It's also about the difficult situations into which someone suffering from a compulsion to gamble can be driven and how the Finnish gaming monopoly holder, the Slot Machine Association, has lived up to its responsibility as guardian of gaming in my case.

This book was written for people who are already familiar with the world of gambling. But it is also for those who end up living in it because they have a close relationship with someone who gambles, they work in the gaming industry, or their official post puts them in contact with the gambling world. I have also written with those in mind who have never gambled for money or who are not aware of the severity of the problem. Through my story, I want to make sure readers understand that compulsive gambling is a powerful addiction about which everyone should be warned and that the problem can be identified before it's too late. Unfortunately, nobody warned me.

It is generally believed that people gamble because they are looking for excitement, companionship, or entertainment. None of these reasons apply to me. Before my downward spiral into the world of gambling, I had my own family, a large extended family, friends, hobbies, and my work. I wasn't–at least consciously–aware of a longing for anything more. I just happened to give roulette a try, mainly out of curiosity. I won at first, and that made me happy. Who wouldn't want a little extra money? So I decided to play some more, and soon one loss followed another. Before long, gambling began to rule my life. During the day I only thought of gambling. At night I had nightmares about it. Little by little, I used up all the money I had and, as compulsive gamblers do, started to fund my habit with borrowed money.

Even though I won a little every now and then, I no longer had the ability to relate to money in a normal way: as a means of meeting the needs of daily life. To me, money became an instrument for gambling. Whatever came my way went right back where it came from, if not on the same day then the next. My gambling compulsion began to control my behavior. Over the years, my pathological gambling left a devastating mark on my family life, my relationships, my career, and my health. When I ended up in a dire financial predicament, I finally saw no other choice but to end my life.

Now it's time for the compulsive gambler to speak out and tell her story. It's always been practically taboo to talking about gambling addictions, and gamblers have chosen to stay silent in their shame. With this book, I want to explain why my life and my behavior towards other people changed so completely and unexpectedly. At the same time, I want to ask forgiveness from those whose lives were damaged by the things I did as a result of my gambling addiction. I hope that those closest to me will remember the former healthy me and understand that my strange behavior was dictated by my gambling disorder.

My first time

One fall day, in the early 1990s, I am enjoying breakfast with my family when the phone rings, interrupting our conversation.

Want to come with us on a cruise? There's still one space available. It's only women, and it won't cost much, Jaana, a former coworker, pants on the other end of the line. She is going on a fall excursion with her sports club, and one of the participants has cancelled.

I ask my husband if it's OK for me to go–not because I need his permission, just to make sure that we don't already have plans that weekend. Oddly enough, I have the strangest feeling–in the old days they would have called it a premonition–that I shouldn't commit to going on the trip without thinking it over.

Well, I guess I could go, I answer despite my peculiar feeling, thinking that a short trip could be a refreshing change from the boredom and fatigue of autumn. After summer break, the junior high school year is back in full swing and starting to feel a bit monotonous. Memories of previous cruises whirl through my mind: a table laden with good food, maybe some dancing–even though I'm not that good at it–and, best of all, a little shopping.

When the cruise weekend rolls around in the beginning of October, I find myself somewhat reluctant to go. But a promise is a promise, and the trip is already paid for. I take the bus to the railway station and then a tram down Aleksanterinkatu street toward the harbor. Little by little, I begin to feel a twinge of excitement in the pit of my stomach, and anticipation rises to the surface.

The line of people making their way onto the ship is absolutely crawling. One party–judging from their speech, I suspect they are from a rural area–takes up the whole width of the gangway, carting their stuff along as if they own the world. A group of men who have already taken the opportunity to imbibe in a few drinks in the harbor cafe on shore are babbling into their mobile phones and stumbling aimlessly about, holding up the line. It's stop and go, but the whole caravan manages to move forward somehow.

The ship's crew welcomes every single passenger on board. Without asking permission, a photographer snaps pictures in the doorway.

How many passengers actually want to be immortalized with their picture on the wall here in the lobby of the ship? criticizes Jaana when our party is targeted by the photographer. Especially if you're not here with your own spouse, she adds mischievously.

After enjoying the bounty of the buffet table, I take a catnap in my cabin. When I wake up, I change into my best outfit and head out to see what evening entertainment the cruise ship has to offer. The other women in my party are all off doing their own thing, so I wander out alone.

A crowd is gathered around what seems to be the entrance to some event. Out of curiosity, I approach the lively bunch and end up in the middle of the crowd facing a glass door. I crane my neck to see what everyone is waiting for and find that the ship's casino is behind the door. I've never been in a casino before, so when the door opens, I let the stream of people pull me inside.

I notice that the women rush determinedly to attack the slot machines, and the men scatter around the room: some gather around the Black Jack tables, others join the women at the slot machines. All those at the machines start to passionately ram coins into them. Nowadays, there are gaming machines–mostly poker and slots–at the entrance to every supermarket, convenience store, gas station, and café. These machines have never grabbed my attention. Every time I go to the grocery store, I see the pained expressions of retired people feeding their pensions into the machines.

I stray in the direction of a Black Jack table. Here there are only men, both Finnish and foreign. At first, because I don't know the rules of the game, I am content in the role of observer. I pick up the rules quickly, however, and I’m ready to step into action. Smiling, I think of the card games I played as a child with my siblings.

At first I play carefully, just getting a feel for the game, but before long I find myself raising my bet to the maximum allowed. I manage to win a few hundred marks* quickly, and this excites me. I start to gamble recklessly. (*The Finnish mark was the currency of Finland until 28 February 2002, when it was replaced by the euro. One euro is the equivalent of about six Finnish marks. Divide the number of marks by five to seven to get US dollars.)

The first time I lose all my winnings–plus a little of my other money–I don't have the heart to continue. Instead, I move over to play backseat driver to one French-speaking player.

After a while, I move on and continue exploring the casino. In the middle of the room, I notice a group of people gathered in a semicircle.

Yes!

Come on doubles!

Didn't I say double twos?!

Their shouts rise above even the clanging and jingling slot machines. The noisy crowd, occasionally erupting in squeals of joy, peaks my interest, and I step toward the ruckus to see a roulette table. Edging in among the onlookers, I accidentally nudge one player. I dig a hundred-mark bill out of my handbag. I'm going to try my luck. Novice that I am, I reach out to hand my hundred to the dealer, and he pushes twenty dark-green plastic chips across the surface of the table in front of me. My first-ever purchase of chips at a roulette table.

I place half my chips in various spots around the table, mostly without thinking. Then I'm left to wait like the others. I can't watch as the dealer sets the wheel in motion, nor when he throws the ball. Spinning motions make me feel nauseated.

Luck is not on my side the first spin, but pretty soon my stack of chips starts to grow considerably. I linger at the roulette table until I hear the croupier, or dealer, announce, Last three rounds!

That means the casino is getting ready to close. I end up with about five hundred marks more than when I started. I use my winnings to buy some presents for my family and coworkers from the tax-free gift shop.

Late fall. I hurry toward the railway station to catch my bus. Both my tote bag and plastic shopping bag bulge with food I just bought from the delicatessen in the Stockmann department store. They had a lot of special offers today for members of their loyalty program, and I want to spoil my husband and children with a good meal.

My eyes fall on the signs outside the casino, and they bring to mind the winning evening I had on the ship. Who knew you could win money that easily! Of course, I've seen those ads many times in the past–before the cruise–but I've always passed them by without the slightest bit of interest. Now, instead