Saturday, September 24, 2011
Today it felt as if someone popped the Bingo-room balloon, and all the happy air leaked out. A joyless aura lingered, and because I was the only Bingo worker on the scene, everyone seemed especially unhappy and impatient and surly. Or maybe that was just me.
Ann Lawson, chief of the Bingo police, announced her newest crusade: prohibiting residents from using more than one Bingo card per session. (Many residents have a couple “lucky” cards they keep from session to session, sometimes switching between games.) Her first strategy: Switch to disposable paper cards, one per resident per session. Apparently that was vetoed, so Plan B now involves date-stamping each player’s card at every Bingo session. If a resident’s card isn’t stamped and approved, he or she cannot win a prize.
“Hmm,” I said to Ann, trying very, very hard not to let “WTF” slip out. Instead I asked, “Is that really such a big problem?” Yes. Yes, it is. Ann said she would assume stamping and policing duties, so I wished her well.
Other than that, things lumbered along rather emotionlessly. People yelled at me in case I hadn’t noticed the resident holding up his giant red Bingo paddle. People yelled at me in case I didn’t remember the precise order of prize-picking. My sarcasm (“Oh, you mean I should acknowledge the man holding up that giant red Bingo paddle?”) amused only me. And only a little, at that.
I tried to create my own joy by helping the truly needy (and blocking out the somewhat annoying), but it only made me sad.
Not every Bingo is a winner, I suppose. I slumped in my car, hoping this was just a blip in my Bingo universe.
Today it felt as if someone popped the Bingo-room balloon, and all the happy air leaked out. A joyless aura lingered, and because I was the only Bingo worker on the scene, everyone seemed especially unhappy and impatient and surly. Or maybe that was just me.
Ann Lawson, chief of the Bingo police, announced her newest crusade: prohibiting residents from using more than one Bingo card per session. (Many residents have a couple “lucky” cards they keep from session to session, sometimes switching between games.) Her first strategy: Switch to disposable paper cards, one per resident per session. Apparently that was vetoed, so Plan B now involves date-stamping each player’s card at every Bingo session. If a resident’s card isn’t stamped and approved, he or she cannot win a prize.
“Hmm,” I said to Ann, trying very, very hard not to let “WTF” slip out. Instead I asked, “Is that really such a big problem?” Yes. Yes, it is. Ann said she would assume stamping and policing duties, so I wished her well.
Other than that, things lumbered along rather emotionlessly. People yelled at me in case I hadn’t noticed the resident holding up his giant red Bingo paddle. People yelled at me in case I didn’t remember the precise order of prize-picking. My sarcasm (“Oh, you mean I should acknowledge the man holding up that giant red Bingo paddle?”) amused only me. And only a little, at that.
I tried to create my own joy by helping the truly needy (and blocking out the somewhat annoying), but it only made me sad.
Not every Bingo is a winner, I suppose. I slumped in my car, hoping this was just a blip in my Bingo universe.
RSS Feed