Tuesday, January 17, 2012
posted by Melissa Baumgart
After managing our way through the co-op parking lot filled with health conscious idiot car parkers (yes, in a packed parking lot, somebody decided to take up TWO WHOLE parking spots!), stocking up on all our bulk dried beans and grains for Snowmageddon and chatting with the friendly scratch-off aficionado that was our cashier; Amy and I headed on over to the 7-11 to try once again to cash in on my latest Blackout Bingo scratch-off winner.
"I am totally coming in to see this Bingo shit go down," Amy announced as we pulled into the 7-11 parking lot.
We stood in line behind a possibly homeless man buying lotto tickets and another man buying some beer (totally made me wish I had some wine to enjoy the possible snow to come, being snowed in always makes life a party), we looked over the ticket again. Everything lined up for me to be a winner. I was prepared to collect my $25.00 this time. Maybe the other guy didn't scan it correctly or something.
"This is not a winner," said the guy behind the counter.
Amy debated with him for a bit, 'til it was clear that there was nothing he could do, nor did he know the rules of Bingo well enough to decipher what she was pointing out on the Bingo Blackout scratch-off. Then the homeless looking guy that had just bought several scratch-offs and a handful of lotto tickets, came over to help us. We slowly went through each winning spot, and were all unanimous, this ticket was a winner indeed. So, he walks us over to the self-scanner, and we all stand there waiting.
"Sorry this is not a winning ticket" spans across the small digital display in red letters.
We all muttered our disbelief and as Amy and I were cussing our way out the door, the man turned to us and said, "Well, Gee-Willikers!"
While our explicatives were a bit less family friendly, I knew he could feel our pain. To be a winner, without any validation. To be a true winner, and still the powers that be just won't allow it.