Unhappy Meals
Originally Written: June 25, 2008
Maybe because they try to put OTBs in commercial areas, but there’s always a ton of fast food joints around us. Especially Subways. Is it because there’s Subways everywhere anyway, or is it some vast backdoor conspiracy between the New York Gaming Commission and Jared Fogel? (It’s because there’s Subways everywhere anyway.) However, Subway is more of a solo eating experience than a family one, as opposed to the more traditional fast food eateries—McDonalds, Burger King, etc. So Subway doesn’t really apply to the trend I’ve noticed among certain OTB patrons:
A lot of customers come and bet when they get off work rather than going straight home. Every once in a while I’ll notice a customer with a very large bag of fast food—he’s picked up dinner for his family. Rather than go straight home to his hungry children and tired housewife, he stops by and makes a few bets. And by a few bets I mean many bets and by stops by I mean hangs out. And I just watch these Dinner Dads gambling and losing, that greasy bag dangling from their hands, sometimes squeezed under their arms while they wrangle with their wallet and their tickets and their racing forms. And I watch them, and I pity them, and I feel bad for their hungry children wondering why it’s taking Daddy so long to pick up some damn Big Macs.
It just amazes me. One of the primary duties of being a father is putting food on the table, and these guys are putting food in front of my window instead. And that’s doubly annoying. If I’m hungry, I’ve got to smell that sweet, sweet vegetable oil they cook the fries in and it makes me even hungrier. If I’m full, I’ve got to smell that disgusting “vegetable oil” they saturate the fries in and it makes me want to throw up.
And that food’s not going anywhere. If Dinner Dad loses, he’s gotta keep playing til he wins his money back. If he wins, he can’t leave in the middle of a hot streak, that’d be ridiculous. So the hot streak continues while the nuggets get cold. When Dad finally does get home, there might not be much left, considering how many fries he’s picked away at while waiting for post time and how many snack wraps he’s sold to other customers. It’s not cute like those commercials where Dad ate the fries on the way home. It’s sad like those commercials where Dad stopped to gamble for two hours, and those commercials don’t even exist because it’s a ridiculous scenario that you wouldn’t think actually occurs. Sorry, kids.
I wish this was the only example of how gambling conflicts with good parenting. More examples to come.
P.S. There was this customer at work tonight who had this windblazer that was devoted to cats. It wasn’t a sports or franchise or brand name—it just said CATS in a small, simple font over the right breast with a blob representing what I can only assume was a cat. I guess that’s better than the Chinese guy with the cap that says SAN DIEGO CHARGES. The R isn’t missing, the word ‘CHARGES’ fits perfectly above the rim. I know bootleg clothes are cheaper and I don’t wanna pay a lot for brand names either, but come on, the Chargers? This is New York. At least find a bootleg GINTS or ANKEES hat.
