A Whole Lotto Trouble

Back when I was a child--oh, hell, probably up into my teens--I used to lie as a matter of course. I lied for the same reason most people lie: because the truth was unpleasant, better avoided. And of course the truth could never be avoided for long, and of course I'd be in trouble, and of course it would be twice as much trouble because I had lied.
And yet...I'd just turn around and lie again the next time I had the opportunity. Over and over and over again. Why? Because this time I'd get away with it, is why.
It never worked, you know. Not once. My greatest, most elaborate lie was also my last of any consequence: for well over a year, I said whatever came to mind to keep people from finding out I had dropped out of university. I had three excuses for maintaining this fiction: one, as usual, the truth was not pretty; two, I felt I had to hide my Internet addiction, which contributed; three, at the time I couldn't even explain myself. I had what to me were damned good reasons, but to others they'd probably ring hollow.
Oh, I harboured few illusions throughout: I figured people probably thought I was a fraud. But if I didn't actually admit it, I could just continue on with my life, and maybe it would all go away. After all, I am not a piece of paper.
But then...I work in a grocery store. The truth will out. It becomes a matter of accepting the truth, and working with it...something I think I'm pretty good at, all things considered.

That all came to mind as I read the headlines regarding the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation scandal. It is alleged by the Ontario ombudsman, Andre Marin, that OLGC knew some of its retailers were scamming the public out of tens of millions of dollars...and did nothing. They were more concerned, Marin suggests, with the impact of bad press on their bottom line than with the fraud itself.

Well, hey. Now they've got the fraud and the bad press--and a whole lot more of both than they would have had if they had simply admitted the problem when it was discovered and taken immediate steps to rectify the situation.

But that's not how it usually works, is it? Fraud and misdirection are so rampant in society today--from the widespread cheating that goes on in schools everywhere to the even more widespread cheating of the public engaged in by the Enrons, Bre-Xs, and Nortels of the world--that we don't even bat an eyelash when something comes out in the wash. It's expected. Jean Chretien referred to it, famously, as "the normal operation". It's so expected, in fact, that whenever somebody actually dares to publically admit wrongdoing, not only are they forgiven instantly, the admiration of their public only grows. Think Bill Clinton.

I attended OLGC training way back in the late nineties, just as the first documented instances of fraud were occurring, and there was almost nothing mentioned about security or how to spot irregularities. Much more time was spent discussing all the ins and outs of operating the terminals...which I had been operating, at that point, for six years, I might add. Retailers were never discouraged from playing. In fact, I specifically recall somebody--I wish it had been me--asking why that might be, since most retail contests are off-limits to people who sell the product.
The answer was telling: "There's no conflict of interest", we were told, "since there's no way to determine a winning ticket ahead of time."
Oh, really? In 2004, the OLGC 'discovered' a practice they dubbed "pinpricking", wherein a retailer would lightly scratch the surface of an instant ticket to see if it was a winner.
As for 6/49 and other online games, sure, you might not be able to tell a winner ahead of time, but it's child's play to hide a winner after the fact.
Say somebody comes in with a jackpot winner. The cashier inserts the ticket into the machine, punches in a four digit verification code, and the machine launches into a catchy little song. If you've been in a variety store in Ontario, you've almost certainly head the tune more than once. Indeed, I was heartily sick of the little jingle...because it was exactly the same song no matter how much was won.
A little sheet of paper ejects from the machine, stating winnings. "Free Ticket", it says, or "$10.00" or, presumably, "$24, 518,989.24". 7-Eleven's policy when I worked there was to immediately give that slip to the customer. Little Short Stop, on the other hand, insisted the slip be kept to ensure the tills were in balance at shift end. I disagreed rather vehemently with this policy, and made a point of at least showing the customer what she had won. Very occasionally I'd get a winner who wanted that slip as proof--and there was no way to get a duplicate. Those are the moments as a retailer that you hate: when you have to obey a patently stupid and possibly illegal policy.
I always thought Short Stop's system was ripe for fraud, but even 7-Eleven's can be beaten: simply keep a bunch of free ticket slips on hand and substitute when appropriate. Don't think it doesn't happen: from 1999 to 2006, at least 209 retail owners or employees "won" major lottery prizes. Chance would dictate eight to ten winners over that span of time.

As one who has worked in the industry, I have one piece of advice for online lottery customers: check your tickets ahead of time. It never failed to amaze me how many people would meander in to the store at ten o'clock of a Sunday morning and proceed to produce twenty or forty tickets dating back as much as six months. I never could even begin to understand this practice: if there's even a remote chance I'm a millionaire, I want to know about it. Like right now. But there's a more compelling reason: if you know what you have won before you hand your ticket over, you're much harder to scam.

In the meantime, I would expect the minister responsible for this fiasco to step down immediately, pending a full inquiry. And it goes without saying that retailers must not be allowed to claim prizes, or to have them claimed on their behalf.