Merle R. dreams of having a steady job, a family and a home of his own. He’s 22 years old, young enough to make all of those dreams come true. But it won’t be easy.
Merle, a resident of Brandon, Man., lives on social assistance and is struggling with a gambling addiction. He knows where he will spend most of his next welfare cheque before it even arrives.
“When I’ve got money I don’t think. I just go straight to the slots.”
Merle is a member of Gamblers Anonymous, a support group for people with gambling addictions. He asked that his full name not be published.
Read Also
Supreme Court gives thumbs-up emoji case the thumbs down
Saskatchewan farmer wanted to appeal the court decision that a thumbs-up emoji served as a signature to a grain delivery contract.
He began gambling at video lottery terminals three years ago, lured by the hope of pocketing a $1,000 jackpot. He still clings to that hope despite the toll that it takes on his life.
“I’m just hoping to win big. That’s all that matters.”
His compulsion for gambling began hurtling out of control this spring. He once lost $200 on video lottery terminals in less than half an hour.
There were days when he went hungry because he had gambled his money away. And there were times when he turned to petty crimes to support his addiction.
Aware of his problem, Manitoba’s social services department began sending him food vouchers rather than money for meals. His housing also is paid directly by the department.
Frustrated by the uncontrollable urge to play VLTs, Merle has experienced bouts of depression. He has few friends and no immediate family that he can turn to for support.
He sometimes has to fight the urge to destroy the gambling gizmos after they have gobbled up his money.
“It’s fun playing them, but when you walk out of the bar broke, without even buying a beer or a pack of smokes, you’re really ticked,” he said. “I want to get a baseball bat, come back and just wreck those things.”
Merle has tried counseling for his gambling addiction. He is also thinking about getting a co-signer, someone who would have a say in how much money he withdraws from the bank and for what purpose.
In the meantime, he’ll keep pumping loonies into VLTs, hoping against hope that he’ll pocket a $1,000 win.
“A thousand dollars,” he said, pausing to reflect on how he would spend it. “I’ve never held that much money in my hands.”
