Third Stool from the Wall

Every hall I ever ran had a man like Walter. That was not his name, but it will do. He took the third stool from the wall every afternoon at four, ordered a coffee he never finished, and watched the card game in the back like a man watching a train he had just missed.

He never raised his voice. Never borrowed a dime. Never told a story or started a fight. The loud ones I could spot from across the street. Walter I filed under furniture, and I am sorry to say I ran a business that way for years.

One winter afternoon I was restocking chalk and noticed his coffee was cold again and his shoes were held together with tape. I asked how he was doing. He said, fine, Sal, just resting. I said fine back and went to count the register.

Then he stopped coming. Nine days. When his sister finally called looking for him, I learned he had lost his house in the spring, gambling it away a little at a time, and had been sleeping on her couch ever since. Every afternoon he walked to my counter because it was the one place that never asked him where the money went.

I had a front row seat to the whole thing. I had even been that man myself, years before, tape and all. And I let him say fine, because fine was easy and I had a register to count.

Here is what I took from it. Trouble with gambling does not always show up loud. A lot of the time it shows up polite, on the same stool, wearing the same coat, going quiet before it goes under. If that is you, saying it out loud is the hardest bet you will ever place that does not cost you a thing. And if it is somebody you know, ask the second question. The first answer is almost always fine.

Walter came back after the sister's call. I asked the second question. We were there until closing.

If you are carrying it quietly, the National Problem Gambling Helpline is 1-800-MY-RESET. Somebody will pick up.

Fine is a word with a lot of rooms behind it.

Sal