In 2001, the French Games launched the little brother of the lottery. Every five minutes, Rapido can yield up to 100,000 euros. Many addicts flock throughout the day to places of play, namely bars… Portrait of a Rapido addict.
Her hands tremble. She has lost everything. She entered Le Gaulois at 8 o’clock this morning: “There are fewer people, it’s quieter. And above all, you have a better chance of winning…”, confides this regular. Panic ensues, Maryse desperately rummages through her bag. She checks if she hasn’t forgotten a few euros that could bring her a lot. She finds nothing.
This sexagenarian, recently widowed, “discovered” Rapido after her husband’s death. “To take my mind off things, my friends took me to a bar one day to show me their favorite game, and I played. I enjoyed it so much that I went back. Since then, I’ve been coming virtually every day.” Annie is passionate, or rather dependent on gambling.
Convinced she was born under a “lucky star,” she says she “won 1000 euros once!”. However, she does not reveal the amount of her losses: “I don’t know, I don’t feel like I’ve lost much.” Assessment to be made over two years, with 5-6 visits per week. Playful, her wrists jingle with rabbit’s foot, lucky charms, and a little golden clover. The fever to win lights up her eyes: “Every time the TV gives the results, my heart races.”
The principle is simple. You have to check 8 numbers between 1 and 20 in a first column, then just one in the second series. And wait for the verdict. The numbers follow one another, each one takes her breath away, and the last one doesn’t even give her the taste of failure; she immediately bounces back: “next time will be the right one!” Maryse says, with a mischievous wink.
“It’s true that I leave a certain sum there each week, but it’s surely cheaper than a therapy session. I wouldn’t know what to say, lying on a couch next to a chair occupied by a deaf-mute…” Mouth and cheeks rosy “very healthy-looking,” give a childlike appearance to the figure draped in a fox stole from another era. “And then it does me more good… And it’s not the solution either…”
This likable grandmother analyzes her gambling addiction very consciously, but nonetheless, she does not have the keys to her recovery.
Legions of clones of Maryse, just as attentive, wait in front of their televised outlet. Each in their bubble, no words exchanged, and all on the verge of winning, of course.
N.D