Dooley Noted: 8/3/2014
Many of you may not know that I used to be a mystery shopper. It basically put me through college, chiropractic school, and grad school.
My favorite evaluations were of the casinos. I found them to be fascinating in every imaginable way.
I was required to spend money at slot machines to evaluate the slot attendants.
I would spend the minimum required. Poverty made me risk averse.
For the last three days, I observed Las Vegas gamblers off the job, since I no longer mystery shop. I’d watch people win something, and go right over to another machine and let the casino take it all back.
Those people included me.
It was awful, as I was full of awe at my character change under flashing flights.
Was I having a seizure?
At the end, I felt robbed of something more than money.
I felt robbed of logic.
Slots are the worst odds in the house. But the card tables were thinly occupied, and the slots were fairly full.
Table games take strategy, intellect, and – god forbid – math skills.
But slots? Flashing lights and unpredictable, computerized reels provide an absolute loss of control.
Perhaps that is what is inviting.
Gambling is just like any other vice, it seems. It certainly lights up your reward center like a quick fix.
So, I digressed with my analysis of gambling addiction and the power of machines to control us.
I decided to enjoy my vacation – but not without flipping the script.
I used a machine – my cell phone – and its tally application.
My goal was to perform 150 pistols squats on both sides in three days.
Instead of taking from me, I got something back with every tally I entered.
I received a renewed sense of self.
I know who I am. Flashing lights were slightly distracting from that. People might just gamble to lose themselves.
I don’t want to get lost. I dig my life.
I’d much rather spend my other 51.5 weeks of the year adding to a machine that builds up my character.
Adios, slots. I’ll take the pistols for tally. I would rather run the machine then have the machine run me.
This goes for all machines.
As always, it’s your call.
– Dr. Kathy Dooley
