What's Wrong With Gambling

A man seeks solace in gambling, dipped the holiday atmosphere of casino license, replacing his real dull world with bright and lavish one. Vorrei solo allontanarmi da tutti voi, dal casino che create. Andare in un posto tranquillo, tra gli alberi. Sedermi sotto uno di essi e liberare la mente da ogni pensiero. Liberarmi di quel peso. Richard French and the RFL panel discuss the plight of the gaming industry in New Jersey with gambling industry analyst Harold Vogel. What's Wrong With You.

Gambling on a

Scoundrel

A novel by

Sheridan Jeane

Other Books by Sheridan Jeane

It Takes A Spy (a novella)

Lady Catherine's Secret

Once Upon a Spy

A Flowers and Fullerton Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright 2014 by Sheridan Edmondson

Cover Design by Earthly Charms

ISBN:978-1-63303-001-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it bears to reality is entirely coincidental.

Produced by Sheridan Jeane

at Flowers and Fullerton, LLC

Cleveland, OH

SheridanJean[email protected]

To my parents, Joe and Winnie Ferguson, who had the foresight to name me Sheridan Jean because they thought it would make a great author's name if I ever chose to become a writer. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank my husband, Bob, and our children for their help, their support, and their understanding. I couldn't have done this without you.

In addition, I want to thank Christy Carlson, Sheila Larkin, and the members of Sunshine Critique Group for everything they did to help make this book a reality.

1 - Pink's Tea Shop

CHAPTER ONE

Mayfair, London, 1861

FRENCH TART STEALS BLISS'S BLISS

The imaginary headline Temperance Bliss conjured from her fears mocked her as she hurried along the refined streets of Mayfair. Tempy brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of her glove, hoping any passers-by would assume it was a drop of rain. Her other hand clutched a letter pressed tightly against her corseted waist.

She needed to compose herself. One simply didn't comport oneself this way in Mayfair. It wasn't done. Lifting her chin, Tempy erased all signs of emotion from her face. The best way to regain her composure was to focus on honing her imaginary headline. Perfecting it always helped calm her.

BLISS BETRAYED BY FRENCH TART

Slightly better, but still not quite right. Still not catchy enough.

How could Ernest undermine her in her moment of triumph? 'I'll always be here for you,' he'd said. But now...

She lifted a handful of her full, bell-shaped skirt to keep it from dragging through any of the puddles that had the temerity to form on the otherwise pristine sidewalks of this exclusive section of London.

Everything would be better once she reached Millicent. Her friend would know what to do. She always did. Millicent had the advantage of age and wisdom, although she probably wouldn't like hearing those qualities ascribed to her.

Until then, Tempy'd keep working on that headline.

FRENCH WENCH BANISHES BLISS

That was more like it. Short and catchy. Plus, it worked with both meanings of 'bliss.'

As Tempy rounded the street corner, she spied her destination, Pink's Tea Room. She glanced up at the clock tower overlooking the square. Her punctual friend would likely already be sitting at one of the cozy tables.

She peered through the tea shop's large window with its overly cheerful red mullions dividing the panes of glass and quickly spotted Millicent Kidman. As usual, her friend wore an ostrich feather hat perched on her graying upswept hair. It made her look like some sort of species of exotic bird. Millicent was pouring the steaming liquid into her cup, and Tempy saw that a second pot sat before the empty chair across from her at the four-person table. Wasn't that just like Millicent, to mother her on the rare occasions they were able to meet?

As she looked at the little white teapot that awaited her, a sense of comfort washed over Tempy. Her chest relaxed, and she was able to stand more upright. Millicent would help her make sense of all this.

Tempy entered the building and spoke briefly with the man in charge of seating the guests before wending her way between the tables to join her friend. Millicent looked up at her with a welcoming smile, but it quickly froze when Tempy lowered herself into the chair facing her friend.

'My dear, what's wrong? You don't look yourself,' Millicent said, keeping her voice low as she glanced around for possible eavesdroppers.

Tempy pressed her lips together, unable to bring herself to speak. What if some reporter saw how upset she'd become and decided to write about it? Even now, she could feel the pressure of fresh tears threatening to spill out, so she mutely handed over the letter.

Millicent peered at Tempy thoughtfully and then rummaged around in her reticule, extracting a small pair of reading glasses. She dropped her head a bit as she slid them on and turned away from the room so that the wide brim of her hat concealed her face from most of the other patrons. She'd only recently started using eyeglasses to read, and Tempy had noticed that she was still self-conscious about them. Millicent quickly scanned the letter, letting out a 'humph' and frowning. Upon finishing it, she removed the glasses and peered at Tempy. 'So, he's gone and found someone else, has he? And he can't be bothered to tell you in person?'

'After all, he is in France. Telling me in person would be quite a challenge.' She pressed her lips together. Why was she defending him?

Millicent didn't even pretend to look forgiving and instead uttered another 'humph.'

'He's bringing her back to London with him, along with her parents.' She envisioned greeting him at the dock tomorrow only to have him rebuff her and introduce the French woman. How appalling. 'At least his letter spared me the humiliation of meeting her as they disembarked the steamship.'

'You'll forgive me for being blunt, but the least he could have done was not ask someone to marry him while still being promised to you.'

Tempy felt the blood rush to her face. 'It's not...I mean, we weren't officially engaged.'

'Don't be foolish. Everyone assumed the two of you would marry, including him. And he couldn't be ignorant of the effect this news would have upon you. And yet, he has the gall to ask you to...Now let me get this straight.' She slipped her glasses back on and glanced at the letter. '...treat Clarisse like a sister and welcome her into your heart'?' Her voice ended with a squeak of outrage.

Upon hearing those words, Tempy's chest began to tighten again and she glanced around to see if anyone was listening. They weren't.

Perhaps she'd wake up and realize she'd accidentally stumbled into one of those opium dens she'd read about. An opium-induced hallucination would be vastly preferable to this.

But no. This was reality.

Tempy slumped back in her chair. Or at least, she slumped as much as her tight corset and the tiny chair would allow, which was very little. After a brief moment, she sat upright again to relieve the uncomfortable pressure on her ribcage. Then, she forced out the question she'd been agonizing over all morning. 'Am I so unlovable? After all, Father never really cared about me and I have no friends other than you and Ernest. And now I don't even have him. Is there something wrong with me?'

'Unlovable? You? That simply isn't possible,' Millicent said, shaking her head vigorously. Her hat looked as though it were readying itself for flight with the way she sent its ostrich feather fluttering from side to side. 'Please don't measure your worth based on your father's values. He was only interested in things, not people. His view of life was an extremely limited one.'

Tempy wanted to believe her. Really she did. But the evidence proved otherwise. Father had lavished his attention on Bliss Railways, on his employees, and even on other railroad men, but he'd been indifferent toward Tempy. He'd displayed the odd flash of interest in her at times, but it was always fleeting. She'd never fit in at home, and eventually she'd come to realize that she didn't fit anywhere in London society either.

She shook her head. 'I need to face the reality of my situation. The upper class might turn a blind eye to one or two eccentricities, but I have entirely too many of them to be accepted. Between my unwanted notoriety and my unfeminine interest in journalism, I'm a pariah.'

'You're wealthy. That will make up for any so-called eccentricities you have.'

What Can Go Wrong With Gambling

Again, Tempy shook her head. 'It's not as though I've suddenly been accepted since Father's death. He might have left me with a large inheritance, but he made no friends when he was still alive. He was brash and untitled and he thumbed his nose at the peerage. Even worse, he didn't even have the decency to inherit his wealth. He
earned
his money.'

Logically, therefore, Tempy should have been able to fit comfortably into the middle class, but her wealth and notoriety made her an outcast there as well. Who would risk associating with a woman whose name frequently could be found in the newspapers? They might find themselves mentioned there as well.

'Then they are all idiots.'

Tempy's eyes widened for a moment at Millicent's choice of words, and then she smiled crookedly. She took a fortifying sip of Darjeeling oolong tea, breathing in its subtle floral and citrus notes. A proper cup of English tea served as an excellent tonic for low spirits, but even better was Millicent's staunch defense of her. The anger and hurt within Tempy began to ease.

Millicent, still watching her carefully, gave a satisfied nod. 'I'm glad to see you're recovering some of your aplomb. But I feel I must remind you that we arranged to meet today for an entirely different reason. We're supposed to be celebrating your triumph.'

'Triumph?' Tempy said, nearly swallowing her tea the wrong way. 'I haven't even written the article yet.' She cleared her throat. 'I'm hardly triumphant.'

'Of course you are, my dear. How many other women did Charles Dickens ask to write an article for his newspaper? Hmm? My guess is none, so by rights, simply being offered the project is cause for celebration.'

A bubble of pride rose within her. 'You're not far off the mark, but I'm sorry to disillusion you. He's also having Eliza Lynn Linton write an article. Hers will be on pauper girls and workhouses.' Tempy set her teacup back on the saucer with a slight clatter of china.

'That's why I've always liked Mr. Dickens. He's such a forward-thinking man who isn't at all afraid to give talented women an opportunity to write. I'm quite proud of you, dear. We should celebrate.'

It is common for people to create myths and stereotypes about different phenomena that they know little about or do not want to enter into. Licensed casinos are no exception - there is a lot of prejudice around gambling houses. Today we will talk about one of the most common misconceptions.

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The core of stereotype

There is a rather persistent belief that casinos are limb of the devil and evil seeds, involving a man in heavy debt obligations, squeezing him or her dry, making sure that a customer plays to the last penny and does not even think to leave a gambling site with a full purse or, perish the thought, a big winning.

The moment one crosses the casino's threshold or registers in the electronic analogy - it's a start of troubles. Devastation and gaming addiction are guaranteed. And it is followed with a broken family, lost work and living place, crime wars, life on a powder keg, depression and, as a result, suicide or violent death.

But is it really so?

The roots of stereotype

This stereotype is generally common among third world countries, where the gap between the poor and the rich is too wide, and the middle class is either non-existent or in its infancy. A constant lack of money forces people to look for extra income. Casino serves them as one of the ways to resolve this problem.

People mistakenly believe that the casino license can easily and quickly enrich them without special effort. Undoubtedly, it is a reasonable opinion, and some individuals are incredibly lucky with that, however, this phenomenon is far from being massive.

Financially struggling players continue chasing for dreams by pumping per diem into a slot machine, raising bets, emptying their own pockets. If John from the neighbor's house was able to win several hundred grand last Tuesday, then I can do the same, and I just need to keep going.

What's wrong?

In a civilized world, gambling has long ceased to be considered as means of earnings. Self-sufficient players of a sustainable social status visit licensed casinos for one purpose - to get away from daily routine and have a good time.

Such visitors know that they will keep certain sums in gambling. Well, you also have to pay for a ticket to cinema or soccer match and no one thinks it's weird or stupid. The entertainment fee is all right, and winning is considered as a nice bonus.

Traps and pitfalls

In any of the exemplary societies, there will always be someone who is the black sheep in the family. It is good when these people dedicate their energy to creativity and do not waste it on self-destruction.

Ludomania becomes a curse for the second category of people. As a rule, it affects those having bad times. Misunderstanding within the family, lack of prospects, existential crisis, when years are already taking their own, but dreams and plans have not been realized. A man seeks solace in gambling, dipped the holiday atmosphere of casino license, replacing his real dull world with bright and lavish one.

'That could happen to anyone.' 'It's the fault of casino license, they plague humankind,' stereotype believers would say. And they will be wrong. Global statistics indicate the opposite: players who are subject to substance abuse on gambling average no more than 1-1.5%.

What's Wrong With Gambling Advice

In some countries this figure is higher, in others - lower, but the general trend is clear - gambling affects only individuals of addictive personality and who are in crisis. For comparison, the percentage of people suffering from alcohol dependence is much higher - from 10 to 15%.

Moreover, gambling is recognized as a disease in different countries and treated as drug addiction or alcoholism. Government commissions, commercial and charitable organizations direct their efforts to the struggle against ludomania by offering players effective recovering programs.

What Is Wrong With Online Gambling

All gambling establishments are obliged to recommend such programs to problematic players as well as to provide online links and contact information of such organizers. Players receive psychological and psychosocial care, they are suggested with special programs allowing a self-exclusion from gambling resources for a specified or recommended period. Collectively, all of this produce positive results.

What's Wrong With Gambling Losses

Summing up

Why You Shouldn't Gamble

• The stereotype, that the casino license is causing bankruptcy and game addiction is common in certain regions and segments of the population, are erroneous.
• Gambling is a problem, but only a negligible percentage of players suffers from it.
• It's not the best way to make up your financial condition by playing a casino, it would be better to find a job.
• Take a visit to the casino like a way of entertainment that you have to pay for, and then losing will be easier. Allocate a limited amount to the game and your budget is never affected.

Only after most gamblers accept these truths, the gambling will cease to be perceived as evil and begin to move in the right direction reaching all over the world.

Why Gambling Is Bad For You

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