Ka-ching! Gambling addicts’ problems just got worse.
AS THE allure and glitz of Las Vegas arrive at the Potomac on Thursday in the form of MGM’s gigantic $1.4 billion casino at National Harbor, much of the buzz has been about all the lovely lucre for the gaming industry and Maryland. So spare a moment to consider the cost — to the tens of thousands of compulsive gamblers in and around the Washington area whose exposure to extreme risk just got a lot worse.
An eye-opening article in the current issue of the Atlantic magazine describes the outsize marketing efforts by gaming companies to target problem gamblers, who consist of less than 20 percent of casino patrons but provide a hugely disproportionate share of the industry’s profits. From free limos, hotel suites, liquor and gifts, to easy credit and ingratiating hosts and hostesses, casinos know how to keep their best, and most vulnerable, customers coming back for more and more . . . and more.
That’s long been the case in Nevada and the 39 other states that have also legalized gambling and opened their arms wide to casinos in the past four decades. What’s changed, and changed remarkably, are the astonishing technological advances — specifically, in electronic slot and video poker machines — that play on gamblers’ weaknesses and leave millions of them even more helpless to quit their addictions.
As the Atlantic article puts it, “A significant portion of casino revenue now comes from a small percentage of customers, most of them likely addicts, playing machines that are designed explicitly to lull them into a trancelike state that the industry refers to as ‘continuous gaming productivity.’ ”
That “trancelike state” is induced by ingenious high-tech methods, including features that coax players into believing they’d very nearly won (as they lost), and induce them to keep playing by making their losses occur more gradually. Through highly sophisticated techniques, which also include assiduous monitoring and tracking of big-time spenders by gaming companies, players are induced to go beyond their limits and their abilities to absorb losses.
Even as Maryland has raked in hundreds of millions of dollars in annual tax revenue from casinos since they first opened in the state in 2010, the human price has mounted. Calls to the state’s gambling hotline — 800-GAMBLER — have climbed, and each year hundreds more people legally bar themselves from stepping inside a casino through the state’s Voluntary Exclusion Program (which is difficult to enforce).
By law, a minuscule portion of Maryland’s casino revenue is diverted to a state fund that provides counselors trained to deal with gambling addiction and pays for research and public awareness of the problem. But unlike some other states, Maryland — which with six casinos is now among the nation’s most concentrated gaming markets — offers no free treatment programs. Lawmakers in Annapolis have been negligent.
There are undeniable economic benefits from casinos for the state and, now, quite likely, for Prince George’s County, where MGM’s casino has created several thousand jobs. It would be foolish for lawmakers and the public to salivate over those while continuing to ignore the human toll.
Casinos use marketing ploys to target older patrons — and empty their wallets. — Mark Peterson/Redux
Beauford Burton had enjoyed the occasional poker game in his youth, but in his 60s the slots hooked him. He and his wife, Sharon, started making the 2 1/2-hour drive every Friday from their home in Kings Mountain, N.C., to Harrah's Cherokee Casino Resort, where they won occasionally but lost more frequently. In one year, he lost about $50,000, nearly the equivalent of his annual salary as a manager in a textile company.
They often stayed longer than they'd intended—many times the casino would offer them a free hotel room Saturday night. Burton can't remember ever paying for a room. He had access to an exclusive bar with free drinks and food, preferred seating in the restaurants and suite upgrades in the hotel. Harrah's once flew the couple to its casino in Laughlin, Nev., and covered all their expenses—except, of course, what they gambled.
In the end, Burton knew that all of the freebies weren't really free, and that he had paid for them tenfold with his losses. "I have always known you don't get something for nothing, but I fell for it," he says. "It's the good old devil at work."
Over four years, the slots drained more than $100,000 from Burton's 401(k). But he kept playing. He cashed in a life insurance policy, took out cash advances on his credit card and gambled away Social Security checks meant to pay utility bills. Finally, in 2008, the gambling habit took his home.
By then, he was playing in a panic, betting up to $15 to $20 a spin, chasing his losses and pursuing the one illusory jackpot that he hoped would save him. "As you start to lose, you think, This is a luck thing, my luck is going to change," says Burton, now 73. "But the more you go, the more you lose. It ends up in desperation. I can see how people get so deep that it causes them to take their own lives, because it gets really, really bad."
The rise of the casinos
Of the 101 million visitors to America's casinos in 2014 (the last year for which information was available), nearly half were age 50 or older, according to data from the gambling industry. In 2014, American casinos reported over $66 billion in gambling revenue, and much of that profit came from these older gamblers.
A 2011 study published in the Journal of Gambling Studies revealed that many older adults viewed the casino as a place where they can socialize and escape from loneliness or grief.
It's never been easier for them to get to one. Long gone are the days when the twin casino meccas of Las Vegas and Atlantic City, N.J., represented the sole options for American gamblers. Regional casinos have proliferated dramatically since 1988, when the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act legalized casino development on Indian lands. That sparked a loosening of state prohibitions on gambling and a nationwide casino building boom. Today, 1,400 casinos are spread across 40 states. Regional casinos are especially attractive to those who prefer to drive themselves and do not want to have to spend the night. States with large populations of adults over 65, including Florida, Pennsylvania, New York, Michigan, Ohio, Massachusetts and West Virginia, have all expanded casino gambling in recent years.
Addiction experts alarmed
Older adults are an especially desirable demographic for the gaming industry because they fill the floors during off-peak hours, and casinos market to them aggressively, offering discounts on breakfast and lunch, free drinks and guarantees to "instantly win up to $1,000 Free Slot Play!" They stage free daytime entertainment such as polka dancing, magic shows and live "Golden Oldies" shows. The "third of the month club" provides complimentary shuttles from senior centers and retirement housing complexes on the day they receive their Social Security checks. Some casinos stock their bathrooms with adult diapers and disposal receptacles for diabetics' needles. They provide wheelchairs, walkers and more handicapped parking spots than a hospital. One Nevada casino operated an on-site pharmacy—since closed—where accumulated play credits could cover the standard $25 copay on medications.
The gambling boom—and the aggressive tactics the industry uses to lure older patrons—has alarmed addiction experts. Even casino patrons with no history of problem gambling can develop addictive behavior as they age. According to a 2005 study by David Oslin, a professor of psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania Medical Center in Philadelphia, 1 in 11 adults over age 65 bet more than they could afford to lose in the previous year. The study suggests that more than 4 million older Americans could have a gambling problem. "That's a higher rate than we have for most diseases," he says.
Notable high rollers
Earlier this year, the Hollywood Reporter devoted a cover story to one such pathological gambler—Emmy-winning television producer and writer David Milch, 71. Despite earning millions from the shows he helped create, including NYPD Blue and the critically acclaimed HBO series Deadwood, Milch ran up enormous debts betting on horse racing (also the topic of his short-lived HBO series Luck). According to a lawsuit filed by Milch's wife against the couple's business managers, between 2000 and 2011 his gambling losses reached $25 million, and he's now $17 million in debt.
For other high-rolling notables with well-documented gambling habits, such as NBA great Charles Barkley and actor Ben Affleck, sports betting and poker are the typical culprits. But the majority of everyday problem gamblers are camped out at the slot machines, which have evolved from the traditional one-armed bandits into highly sophisticated "electronic gaming machines" powered by proprietary computer chips. Slots are the biggest revenue producer for the industry and the most popular attraction for older gamblers: 3 out of 4 adults age 65 and older identify slots and video poker as their preferred form of gambling, according to a Harrah's survey.
Slot machines are the most addictive form of casino gambling, enticing users to 'keep playing' until they've suffered major monetary losses. — Naomi Harris
'Electronic crack'
Slots are also the most addictive form of casino gambling, with the machines designed to maximize your "time on device" until you're out of money. A 2001 study by psychiatrist Hans Breiter, then of Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, confirmed that the machine's nickname—"electronic crack"—is an apt one. Using MRI scanners, he found that in subjects playing slots, the brain's neural circuits fired in a way that was similar to those using cocaine.
Several factors make gamblers particularly susceptible to addiction behavior as they age. Loneliness, social isolation and the loss of a spouse can encourage older people to seek relief in casinos. "For someone older who has been sick in the hospital or who is bored or lonely, that can have a big impact on them," says clinical geropsychologist Dennis McNeilly of the University of Nebraska Medical Center in Omaha.
More serious age-related cognitive decline plays a role, too. A 2012 study found that changes in the anatomy and chemistry of brains in dementia patients 65 and up, particularly in the frontal region—which controls executive functioning—"may render older adults particularly vulnerable to the stimulation provided by the slot machine." Dementia afflicts about 14 percent of the U.S. population over 70 years old, and an estimated half of those (nearly 2 million people) are undiagnosed. "With both the reward system and impulse controls impaired, that creates the perfect storm for someone to develop problems with gambling," says Michael Hornberger, a neuroscientist at the University of East Anglia in England. Cognitive issues can cause sufferers to lose their sense of money's value, and those with dementia often repeat a singular behavior such as pushing the button on a slot machine over and over. "They just keep playing as long as the casino lets them," Hornberger says.
In some cases, compulsive gambling behavior can emerge as a side effect of medications. Mark Stacy, a neurologist at the Duke University School of Medicine in Durham, N.C., noticed that several of his Parkinson's disease patients began reporting gambling problems after he had increased their doses of drugs called dopamine agonists, used to treat motor dysfunction. As many as 10 to 15 percent of Parkinson's patients who take the drugs exhibit this tendency, he says. "I believe these drugs do cause gambling problems where they otherwise would not occur. When you stop the drug, the behavior goes away."
Foes of casino gambling say that the industry actively targets vulnerable older patrons. For every 20 older patrons who walk through their doors, says Les Bernal national director of the advocacy organization Stop Predatory Gambling, the casinos want to "find a couple of them that they can take for all they're worth."
From social gambler to addict
Beauford Burton's experience at Harrah's Cherokee Casino is typical of such relationships.
In addition to sending birthday cards and weekly mailings with ticket deals to shows and vouchers for free play, the casino assigned a VIP host who called Burton at home to invite him back for various specials. Casino hosts often lavish personal attention on high-rolling older charges, asking about their health, reminding them to take their medicine and eating meals with them.
"The whole premise of a host is to extract as much money from that player as possible," says ex-host John-Talmage Mathis, who worked as VIP marketing director at the Boomtown Casino in Bossier City, La. "For older people, the host becomes their friend, giving them attention they may not be getting from their children or friends."
Casinos award hosts bonuses based on how much the gambler loses. "The losses of your player," Mathis says, "are your success."
As the industry seeks to expand, more women are being enticed into casinos, and more are experiencing problems, according to a study published in the journal Psychiatry.
Many slot machines are now designed specifically for women players, who, like longtime slots addict Melynda Litchfield, sometimes feel bonded with their machines. Litchfield, 56, worked 27 years at a Chicago-area hospital, climbing from staff nurse to administrator with a salary of $100,000.
Yet she couldn't afford a prom dress for her daughter because she lost so much playing slots at the Grand Victoria Casino in Elgin, Ill., 10 minutes from their home. For Litchfield, the atmosphere was as addicting as the machines themselves. The staff treated her warmly and called her by name. "They gave me so much personal attention and TLC that you get the false impression these people—who are milking away all of your money—actually care about you," she says.
The casino also served as an escape, to a place where she did not have to tend to the needs of anyone else. "I didn't want to talk to anyone," says Litchfield, who quit gambling in 2012 and is now a national victims advocate for Stop Predatory Gambling. "I just wanted to get lost in my machine."
Pushed toward the slots
Amy Ziettlow, a Lutheran minister and affiliate scholar at the Institute for American Values, visited casinos in Louisiana, Iowa and New York for her investigative report, "Seniors in Casino Land."
"The whole aim of trying to cater to the needs of the least among us simply to take their money is abusive," she says. "Owners push them toward the slots."
Industry advocates such as Chris Moyer, director of public affairs for the American Gaming Association, tell another story. "If seniors are enjoying the entertainment product we provide, there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to enjoy that in a responsible manner," he says. He points out that casinos do provide education materials on addiction, displaying pamphlets that urge patrons with gambling problems to call a toll-free help number. The casinos also encourage problem gamblers to put their names on self-exclusion lists. "The casino gaming industry takes extraordinary measures to spot those who need help and connect them to treatment," Moyer says.
As his addiction deepened, Beauford Burton found one of those pamphlets and called the 800 number. As he recalls, the person who answered his call just told him he should stop gambling if he couldn't afford it. "There was no meat to it," he says. "Once your intent is not to come back to them, I think they want to be clear of you."
After declaring bankruptcy in 2008, Burton finally managed to quit with the support of his wife and his faith. He and Sharon now live in a two-bedroom apartment in Kings Mountain, where he has become an outspoken critic of a proposal to build a casino in his community. He regrets his gambling problems but takes responsibility for his behavior. "I can't put total blame on those people because I was the one ignorant about it," Burton says. "But the casinos do try to make things as exciting for you as they can."
John Rosengren is a freelance journalist who lives in Minneapolis.
Terry Marra, a long-time president of the Gorge Soccer Association on Vancouver Island, died of suicide in February 2014.
As governments across B.C. ponder expanding casinos, CTV News has learned a suicide after a huge theft from a Victoria-area volunteer soccer association was related to gambling.
The B.C. Coroners Service found gambling was one of the risk factors that led the long-time president of the Gorge Soccer Association, Terry Marra, to kill himself just as other members of the club were discovering how much money was missing.
“He was a real pillar of the club for a long time. For a lot of people this was a real shock when this happened,” said Andrew Wynn-Williams, a club spokesperson.
The agency has recorded Marra’s death as just one of 18 suicides in a four-year period that the agency believes are gambling related, according to documents obtained by CTV News using B.C.’s Freedom of Information Act.
It’s a warning, some observers believe, against too quickly embracing the proposed expansion of casinos in Delta, the City of North Vancouver, Saanich, and in Marra’s home of Victoria.
Marra had been president of the Gorge Soccer Association since the 1990s, and was known as someone who looked out for the club’s 800 young members and 300 adult players.
“He was the kind of guy who would keep a bunch of soccer cleats in the drawer in the office in case a poor kid didn’t have the right equipment and he could come and get it,” Wynn-Williams said.
But when the club found there wasn’t enough money to pay suppliers for a turf field Marra had arranged to be built for the club, members demanded to see the books.
Before that could happen, Marra overdosed on prescription pills in his Victoria home, the coroners report in his death says, adding it was no accident.
“Marra was aware of the risks associated with the use of this type of over-the-counter medication given his medical history and the prescription medication he was taking,” coroner Lori Moen wrote.
When the other occupants of the house returned that day, they found him on the bed, unresponsive. Emergency personnel came but couldn’t revive him. They found two suicide notes on the bed.
“Marra was not known to have any mental health issues,” Moen wrote. “Subsequent to his death, however, it was discovered that he had significant financial and personal issues that had been escalating for some time and were about to become public knowledge.
“Marra would have known the disclosure of those issues was imminent and that once disclosed, there would be public scrutiny and potential consequences that would add to the complexity and gravity of those issues,” Moen wrote.
Initially the club thought $250,000 had gone missing. But as the club looked over its finances, it discovered that Marra had written $368,000 in cheques to cash or to himself over eight years, peaking at almost $78,000 a year.
And that might not be all, Wynn-Williams said: some of the club’s fees were accepted in cash and the agency has no way of keeping track of that.
“$368,000 is the minimum number. It’s definitely more. We don’t know how much more,” he said.
The loss destabilized the club and it has taken years to get back on track, Wynn-Williams said. The club now has two people signing each cheque and expects to be out of debt this year, he said.
It’s not clear where Marra was gambling, or how much of the money was used to gamble. The Coroners Service refused to answer further questions about its report, citing privacy concerns.
But a statistical report prepared for CTV News after another freedom of information request says 40 per cent of the suicides between 2010 and 2014 were casino-related. Another 40 per cent were unknown.
Men were three times more likely to commit suicide than women. And of all gambling-related deaths, 60 per cent were in Metro Vancouver or the Fraser Valley.
Most B.C. suicides are not documented beyond a single page that details the method, place, time and cause of death. But some contain investigative findings that paint a sad picture of people too deep in gambling debts.
One Nanaimo woman, facing stress involving her finances and her residence, was found floating in the ocean just steps from her home in 2012.
Another, Chin Yao Hu, had borrowed $200,000 from a family member, could not pay it back, and killed his female companion, Miao Zhen Chen, before taking his own life in a Richmond hotel in 2011.
The B.C. Lottery Corporation would not appear on camera, and would not discuss individual cases. A spokesperson said in an e-mail that the corporation has programs to help problem gamblers, including the voluntary self-exclusion program, trained staff, and GameSense advisors. There is also a problem gambling hotline.
The agency said, “It is critical to remember that in every case of problem gambling, there are a wide variety of stressors that contribute to a person’s behaviour.”
But addiction doctor Jenny Melamed said the programs offered by BCLC are voluntary, which doesn’t help someone who is truly addicted.
“We know the risk of suicide is high for those in gambling addiction, because of the shame associated with it. We really need to take this more seriously than we are,” she said.
“You can’t just say, ‘Know your limit, play within it,’” she said, referring to a slogan that is often seen on BCLC ads. “That doesn’t make sense to an addict. Once you’ve crossed over that line, it’s ridiculous to say something like that.”
CTV News has previously reported the self-exclusion program does little to actively keep out problem gamblers from casinos. When those gamblers do get in they are allowed to play and lose, but their winnings are kept from them.
Total government revenues from gambling were about $1.17 billion in 2013/2014.
The B.C. Lottery Corporation has asked some municipalities for proposals to expand casinos, with a deadline on July 15. Each municipality can expect a cut of the winnings.
Victoria and Saanich are also considering potential sites for new casinos.
City council in Delta voted last week to proceed with examining the Delta Town and Country Inn as a possible location. The coroner counted two gambling-related suicides in Delta between 2011 and 2014.
Council there voted to explore the possibility of gaming on the North Shore. The coroner recorded a gambling-related suicide by one woman in North Vancouver in 2011.
BOSTON — Massachusetts is set to launch this week a first-in-the-nation system allowing slot players to limit their bets, following months of planning and some pushback from the gambling industry.
The goal is to prevent casual players from going down the destructive path of addiction, said Marlene Warner, executive director of the Massachusetts Council on Compulsive Gambling, which is helping administer the new feature along with the state Gaming Commission. It isn't necessarily meant to address those with serious gambling problems, she said.
"It's truly a prevention tool," Warner said. "We want people to keep gambling in a way that's healthy and safe for them, so that it doesn't rise to that problematic level."
The "Play My Way" system is being piloted at Plainridge Park, the slots parlor and harness racing track in Plainville and the only operating casino in Massachusetts so far. It could go live on the casino's roughly 1,250 machines as soon as June 1.
If successful, the system may be imposed by the gambling commission at two other state-regulated casinos still in development: Wynn's Boston-area resort and MGM's Springfield one.
The federally recognized Mashpee Wampanoag tribe, which is building a resort casino on sovereign land in Taunton, says it's also reviewing "Play My Way," but declined to say last week whether it would commit to implementing anything similar when its First Light casino opens in part in 2017.
Massachusetts casino operators and the Washington-based American Gaming Association initially voiced reservations about the planned system, arguing such bet limiting or "play management" programs have not proven effective in Australia, Canada, Norway, Sweden and other countries where they've been tried.
But American Gaming Association spokesman Christopher Moyer said "productive conversations" with the state gambling commission has allayed most of the association's concerns.
"Any responsible gaming tool should be targeted to assist the small minority of players that may confront irresponsible play without harming the entertainment experience for nearly all players who enjoy our entertainment experience responsibly," he said. "We're optimistic this tool will help to achieve this goal."
Bet limiting systems are distinct from so-called "self-exclusion" policies in place at Plainridge Park and most U.S. casinos that bar enrolled gamblers from betting at casinos outright.
Warner said the Massachusetts system, which is similar to one also in development in the Canadian province of British Columbia, also is not as draconian as those imposed elsewhere.
"Play My Way" is voluntary and is only being offered initially to players signed up with the casino's reward card program.
Gamblers would never be cut off from betting. By enrolling, they simply receive regular, onscreen notifications as they approach or reach their limit. They also can change their betting ceiling or unenroll at any time.
"It's just a tool to make that person aware of what's happening and the decisions they're making." Warner said.
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Follow Philip Marcelo at twitter.com/philmarcelo. His work can be found at http://bigstory.ap.org/journalist/philip-marcelo
In this June 23, 2015 file photo, an automated dealer asks for players to take a seat at a black jack video slot machine on the floor of the Plainridge ...
Boston — Massachusetts is set to launch this week a first-in-the-nation system allowing slot players to limit their bets, following months of planning and ...
The stakes could be about to get a lot higher for the gambling industry, if regulators are to be believed. This week saw the introduction of new rules aimed at protecting problem gamblers and ramping up the pressure on firms that might exploit them.
A key measure is an upgraded “self-exclusion” system, under which addicts tell betting companies not to take their money. The new system lets addicts sign up to a central register shared by bookmakers, rather than excluding themselves from individual firms.
Companies also have to perform “local area risk assessments” before opening a new bookmakers or casino, checking for factors that might make new gambling premises undesirable.
The rhetoric accompanying the changes suggested that a bright light is going to be shone into some of the dingiest corners of the industry. But one difficulty for regulators and campaigners is that they are taking on an industry that makes annual revenues of £5.4bn, according to the latest available figures, and claims to support 38,000 jobs.
Sarah Harrison, who took over as head of the commission last year, certainly talks a good game: “My message has been that if you do not learn the lessons of recent cases and raise standards, we will intervene further, and this is likely to mean taking much tougher enforcement action.”
he question of whether such punishments are sufficient is, says Harrison, a “live issue” for the commission. This may have been a tacit warning that harsher penalties await the next offender, but some campaigners say the improvements to the self-exclusion system are the mark of a watchdog missing a few teeth.
Matt Zarb-Cousin, spokesman for the Campaign for Fairer Gambling, used to be addicted to fixed-odds betting terminals (FOBTs), which are sometimes called the crack cocaine of gambling. He points out that the self-exclusion system relies on staff remembering the faces of problem gamblers – in some cases dozens in one area.
“They’ve simply made it easier to sign up to a system that doesn’t work,” he said. “The vast majority of self-exclusions are related to FOBTs, so wouldn’t it be more effective to look at the products causing addiction?”
According to the latest Gambling Commission research, problem gambling affects 0.5% of the adult population, about 280,000 people, with men and young people particularly at risk.
Part of the thinking behind the new local area risk assessments is to ensure gambling companies are not targeting vulnerable groups. Westminster and Manchester councils are launching online mapping tools, developed by Bath-based Geofutures, that show areas where people may be at higher risk of harm from gambling. Users can spot bookmakers that set up shop near Gamblers Anonymous meeting places, payday loan shops or unemployment blackspots, and thus risk compounding existing social problems.
Harrison believes the Geofutures system could be used by all local authorities. “We’re keen to see this sort of tool rolled out across other authorities and to see gambling companies drawing on this to shape their local risk assessments and take action,” she said. But those whose lives have been affected by problem gambling fear such innovations are a sticking plaster that does little to address the roots of addiction.
Zarb-Cousin cites efforts to reduce the harm caused by alcohol, cigarettes and, recently, sugar: “The smoking ban did a lot more for reducing smoking-related illness and reducing the number of people that smoke than educating people about the dangers ever did.”
What four years working in a bingo hall taught me about problem gambling
Mary McCool
Comment: Mary McCool on the dark underbelly of the cosy bingo hall.
There is one recreational activity so intense, so divisive and so insidiously harmful, it brings out the worst in the most placid of individuals: bingo.
I left a job in a bingo hall after four years with an overarching feeling of relief and three lessons under my belt.
1. The rhyming slang is sadly a thing of the past
2. Religion is relative (depending on the lucky effigy of the week)
3. Bank notes are filthier than the Panama Papers roster
It was a bizarre, often nightmarish environment - all jingles and showbiz peppered with tired catchphrases, where patrons would queue in their hordes to catch the first game of the day, and rush out at the final claim to nab a seat on the shuttle bus.
The customer demographic was surprisingly diverse. On any given day you would find 90-year-old great-grandmothers playing next to monied business owners, academics, young couples, alcoholics and the odd local celebrity. Most people smoked.
Whether intentional or not, it was also a front for a pool of problem gamblers (albeit a small percentage) who took up residence in the arcade, which could be open for 13 hours at a time.
Those who were undoubtedly addicts for fixed-odds betting terminals would wait outside the venue for the doors to open most days. They often looked tired, made regular trips to ATMs, sweated, swore, lied about their whereabouts to loved ones, and frequently stank.
Problem gambling is sometimes seen as the fanciful cousin of "real" addictions such as drugs or alcohol. Make no mistake, compulsive gambling is very real. It is a frightening illness and one the industry is guilty of propagating.
People forget to eat, drink or relieve themselves when stuck in front of fixed-odds betting terminals.
Mary McCool
Here's why.
Let's start with the fact that bingo halls, arcades and casinos comprehensively assault your senses the moment you step in the door. Bright carpets, flashing lights and screaming buzzers disorientate you from the get-go. And of course the decision-making process is further impaired as there's usually a fully-stocked bar where a pint can be cheaper than in Wetherspoons.
Time is also obscured. There are no clocks in arcades, no windows and, for bingo at least, the main indication of time is the announcer calling in patrons over the tannoy for the next session.
I've seen gamblers offered incentives to stay behind after bingo sessions - ranging from a cup of tea or a free meal to cash, providing the individual can match the amount paid into the machine by the company.
Grimly, these incentives are often a lifeline when a problem gambler is in the throes of a losing streak. That free meal, likely something that comes with chips, may be the only food they have eaten that day. People forget to eat, drink or relieve themselves when stuck in front of fixed-odds betting terminals.
The ease with which establishments can obtain licences from the authorities for these machines is nothing short of social negligence. At the end of 2015, the Scottish Parliament's local government and regeneration committee inquiry heard evidence suggesting there were around 839 fixed-odds betting terminals in licensed betting premises in Glasgow. Edinburgh had 421, North Lanarkshire 320 and South Lanarkshire 316. And that's just four out of 32 local authorities.
So what can be done? Ban gambling? Skirt a few basic principles of capitalism?
Bingo halls, bookmakers and casinos are not the problem in and of themselves. Often they act as a social hub for isolated and elderly members of the community.
It's also not as if institutions are ignoring the law. Staff are well-versed and practised in spotting problem gambling and in fact companies like Rank and Coral invest significant resources in training every year.
And it's a requirement to have self-exclusion leaflets displayed in foyers and in toilets - though, helpfully, problem gamblers spend next to none of their time is these areas.
So when campaigners slammed new regulations from the Gambling Commission, warning that they will be ineffectual, I couldn't help but agree with them.
Bookmakers will have to conduct local area risk assessments to explain how they are going to mitigate crime and the effect on vulnerable people. Significantly, they will have to share information on problem gamblers who have self-excluded - which means gamblers will only have to exclude themselves once to be blocked from shops in an area.
But the new regulations keep the issue of identifying problem gamblers within the industry and therein lies the problem. There needs to be state intervention.
It is not enough that individuals be given fair opportunity to self-exclude. Government has a proactive responsibility to ensure businesses do not take advantage of vulnerable people. Bars have the authority to eject patrons who have had too much to drink; such people provide visible signs of addiction and can also pose a threat to staff and other customers.
Meanwhile problem gamblers are knowingly allowed to continue spending, as is their right.
But here are a few simple suggestions.
Clocks on the walls should be mandatory.
More rigorous and regular inspections by the Gambling Commission, which should include time spent on the floor of establishments for the entirety of their operational hours.
Self-exclusion literature should be placed in arcades next to fixed-odds betting terminals. Machines themselves are required to be branded with things like class and percentage payout. Self-exclusion should also be advertised on the machines. Tobacco products and alcohol bottles have health warnings - betting machines should be no different.
Councils should seek to minimise the number of businesses granted licensing permission in their areas.
Don't mistake me for a killjoy. I get the appeal of gambling. Bingo can be a fun day out, a place to meet and make new friends. For those who can enjoy it as a social occasion, bingo is as harmful as the caffeine in your cup of tea and the jangling nerves as you hope no one shouts "full house" before you.
But for some, bingo halls are dealers of a fix, one that is no less compulsive, no less harmful for our failure to take it as seriously as dependency on drugs or alcohol. Problem gamblers need help from the industry which has profited from their illness.
And if the sector refuses to take more responsibility it falls to government to tell them their number's up.
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