Losing at gambling didn't deter me because I held onto hope I would strike the jackpot some day

This First Person article is written by Chanarae Turnquest, who lives in Charlottetown. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.

On a chilly day in September, I received one of the worst calls of my life. A friend had won the lottery. His luck of the draw would magically fix all his problems. He would not have to worry about covering rent, paying for groceries or the crushing weight of the "looming economic crisis" all the news outlets warned of. I tried to be excited for my friend, but I could not deny my jealousy. 

I opened the fridge, taking note of the few groceries I had left: a $4.50 pack of ground beef, a couple of eggs and week-old rice. Perhaps the lottery could also be my miracle. 

The next day, I walked into the lottery booth as fast as I could. Miracles lined the wall. I could win $20,000 like John in New Brunswick and pay off my car. Or win $10,000 like Stacey in Nova Scotia and have rent secured for a while. I took a minute to decide where to try my luck.

When I saw a glass box lined with Scratch and Win tickets, I thought it was destiny. I figured the chances were higher since everyone else would put their hopes in the jackpot. Unlike everyone else, I would be realistic. The relatively cheap ticket prices convinced me that gambling only through Scratch and Win tickets was a wise choice. Sure, I could lose $2 to $5 per ticket, but I might win $1,000.

"I'll take $20 worth of tickets, please." 

I scratched feverishly with the hope that I would instantly be able to pay off my car loan.

From that day on, I began to notice the advertisements on my commute or on TV I used to ignore without a single thought toward them. They sang to me with promises that I could win big. I could pay to solve the strange noises that my car screamed at me. Instead of holding my breath as the cashier scanned my grapes at $6.99 a pound, I could walk into the grocery store without a single worry. If I won the lottery, I would no longer have to juggle work and school. 

My luck seemed nonexistent until I won $10 on a ticket that cost me only $5. I lost just half of my $20 investment — a small price to pay for the chance to win big. So I continued to head to the ticket booth nearest to me every day for almost a month. I would win $5 off a $2 ticket, $7 off a $5 ticket and $5 off a $3 ticket. My small winnings eventually added up neatly to a beautiful earnings pile that I could use to buy some groceries, meaning fresh fruit became a luxury I could now afford again through gambling. 

Like the advertisements for gambling, I also began to notice tickets everywhere. They were in convenience stores, grocery stores and every gas station I passed. I could play at all these places every day and surely win my miracle, right? After I held a two-day streak of winning more money than I had spent on tickets, the hope of winning was like a drug — maybe even a stronger drug than actually winning.  A drug so strong that I gave up learning about financial investing (an interest I took up to get myself out of the cycle of living paycheque to paycheque). In my twisted logic, Scratch and Win tickets were my investments — a sort of second job. 

But by the end of the month, my luck had run out. Still, I held out hope until I learned my friend had lied. As it turned out, he hadn't won a single dollar playing the lottery; I don't even know if he ever played. My hopes of an instant solution were gone. 

Reality hit me hard. I had spent anywhere from $2 to $20 every day for four weeks believing I would win like him. If I had not learned of his deceit, would I have kept playing? Would I have continued to delude myself that I was investing in my future?

I probably will never know why my friend lied. I never confronted him and we rarely speak now but I did learn a valuable lesson from the experience — one I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

His lie taught me the truth about gambling.