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anigoWell, did I ever have a fun night last night. Last night was my first night to "do bingo". Jess is in a competitive gymnastics program which means that, to offset costs, the parents of the gymnasts have to help out in the bingo hall that's run in the lower level of the gym.
I have only ever *played* bingo once in my life, and I have certainly never helped run a bingo hall. I really enjoyed it, though my feet hurt afterwards. I walked up and down the isles hawking cards for 3 hours. The best part was studying the people.
So the night started like this:
I got a tray of money and a box of bingo cards. Me and about 8 other people went to "the pit" to sell cards to people as they came in. My cards were a dollar a piece, and there were three bingo sheets to a card. People were throwing money at me left right and centre and requiring money back. Ok, so thinking on my feet at the best of times is tough. Doing math at the best of times is even tougher, but doing both at the same time is impossible. I'm sure I gave out more change than I brought in. (shudder) You'd think that somebody asking for 3 cards and giving me a twenty dollar bill wouldn't be much cause for alarm. But for me, the thought of trying to figure out change is enough to start me hyperventilating. Maybe they'll ask me politely not to come anymore as they lost too much money on me.
So the the next comment is the people. Holy shmoly. Every person in that hall looked like they were cut from the same cookie cutter. Talk about your type-cast bingo bags. The woman all fell into two categories. One category included women who were about mid fiftys, bad hair colour jobs that had partially grown out to show about 2 inces of roots, all of them wore sweatshirts with something on the front (Either a logo or some flower print.) Most of them carried quilted bags that held their bingo daubers. (yes, daubers plural. Most had at least five, many had much much more, though I don't know why. I mean, you can only look at one thing at a time, Why do you need more than one dauber? Can somebody explain this to me?)
The second group of women could have all been my grandmother. White hair lacquered within an inch of their lives. Big framed thick glasses. Gold chains with crosses, sweaters... you get the picture. There were men there too, certainly in the minority, but most of them fell into the first category of women, except they were men.
The line up was AMAZING. I was facinated how it came in waves until somebody pointed out to me that it was because that was how the busses ran. Every time a bus went by, another wave of people came in. All 8 of us were selling cards for different games. And people bought them all. In multiple copies. It's amazing how much money people spend on bingo. Most people were fun, but some of them were pretty serious. They were there to win. They wanted three cards, they didn't want them all one after another, they wanted them from different parts of the pile... one time one of the girls gave one card too many, realized her error and tried to take the card back. The woman on the receiving end nearly went into a frenzy because she figured *that* was her lucky card that she was going to win big on and she *had* to have it. It took her forever to scrounge enough money out of the bottom of her purse to pay for the card.
After the majority of the people got there, we left the pit and roamed the isles trying to hawk cards for special games. Basically you had a money apron on, you had a stack of cards you were selling and you'd go up and down the isle saying "letter x", or "bonanza" or whatever game you were selling. The players wouldn't even look up from the 20 or 30 cards they were playing, they'd just wave their money at you.
People turn into amazing creatures when they're gambling. One time the caller made a mistake and called a number other than the one he had in his hand. LORD ABOVE, I thought the crowd was going to rip his throat out. Don't get in the way of a bingo bag one number away from two lines or a line and four corners.
It was stunning how the women treat the men in a bingo hall. I heard more than one woman berate their man for not paying attention and missing numbers. And we're talking BERATE, we're not talking "you missed a number" we're talking "You idiot, if you can't keep up why do you play?".
Women reign supreme in a bingo hall. For Sure.
Unfortunately, I only get to do this study once a month. I can't wait for next time.
I have only ever *played* bingo once in my life, and I have certainly never helped run a bingo hall. I really enjoyed it, though my feet hurt afterwards. I walked up and down the isles hawking cards for 3 hours. The best part was studying the people.
So the night started like this:
I got a tray of money and a box of bingo cards. Me and about 8 other people went to "the pit" to sell cards to people as they came in. My cards were a dollar a piece, and there were three bingo sheets to a card. People were throwing money at me left right and centre and requiring money back. Ok, so thinking on my feet at the best of times is tough. Doing math at the best of times is even tougher, but doing both at the same time is impossible. I'm sure I gave out more change than I brought in. (shudder) You'd think that somebody asking for 3 cards and giving me a twenty dollar bill wouldn't be much cause for alarm. But for me, the thought of trying to figure out change is enough to start me hyperventilating. Maybe they'll ask me politely not to come anymore as they lost too much money on me.
So the the next comment is the people. Holy shmoly. Every person in that hall looked like they were cut from the same cookie cutter. Talk about your type-cast bingo bags. The woman all fell into two categories. One category included women who were about mid fiftys, bad hair colour jobs that had partially grown out to show about 2 inces of roots, all of them wore sweatshirts with something on the front (Either a logo or some flower print.) Most of them carried quilted bags that held their bingo daubers. (yes, daubers plural. Most had at least five, many had much much more, though I don't know why. I mean, you can only look at one thing at a time, Why do you need more than one dauber? Can somebody explain this to me?)
The second group of women could have all been my grandmother. White hair lacquered within an inch of their lives. Big framed thick glasses. Gold chains with crosses, sweaters... you get the picture. There were men there too, certainly in the minority, but most of them fell into the first category of women, except they were men.
The line up was AMAZING. I was facinated how it came in waves until somebody pointed out to me that it was because that was how the busses ran. Every time a bus went by, another wave of people came in. All 8 of us were selling cards for different games. And people bought them all. In multiple copies. It's amazing how much money people spend on bingo. Most people were fun, but some of them were pretty serious. They were there to win. They wanted three cards, they didn't want them all one after another, they wanted them from different parts of the pile... one time one of the girls gave one card too many, realized her error and tried to take the card back. The woman on the receiving end nearly went into a frenzy because she figured *that* was her lucky card that she was going to win big on and she *had* to have it. It took her forever to scrounge enough money out of the bottom of her purse to pay for the card.
After the majority of the people got there, we left the pit and roamed the isles trying to hawk cards for special games. Basically you had a money apron on, you had a stack of cards you were selling and you'd go up and down the isle saying "letter x", or "bonanza" or whatever game you were selling. The players wouldn't even look up from the 20 or 30 cards they were playing, they'd just wave their money at you.
People turn into amazing creatures when they're gambling. One time the caller made a mistake and called a number other than the one he had in his hand. LORD ABOVE, I thought the crowd was going to rip his throat out. Don't get in the way of a bingo bag one number away from two lines or a line and four corners.
It was stunning how the women treat the men in a bingo hall. I heard more than one woman berate their man for not paying attention and missing numbers. And we're talking BERATE, we're not talking "you missed a number" we're talking "You idiot, if you can't keep up why do you play?".
Women reign supreme in a bingo hall. For Sure.
Unfortunately, I only get to do this study once a month. I can't wait for next time.
