I was busy getting ready while all the women waited in the foyer for me to start. This particular day was a dreary one, and my optimism for numbers had crashed. The bingo hall was like limbo, where all the women came to wait for there eventual demise.

I would see the same sad faces day in day out, all focused on me, waiting for me to make their dreams come true. For most, it’s a daily routine and it acted as an escape from their miserable lives. I always wondered what drove these women to the bingo halls, when most go home bitter and angry. When I first started this job it was only meant to be temporary, a stepping stone for something much greater and fast worded ten years and I’m still here. I had a bottle hurled at my head, and one innocent granny pulled a gun on me. The women that lost would take there anger out on me for not calling the numbers they needed to win and would spit at me and call me nasty names as I try to leave. I took to staying behind until all the women left. “Two little ducks 22.” I continued calling the number’s until one lucky woman screamed bingo, to the dismay of the rest of the hall. Legs 11.” The disappointment from the first number was palpable in the room. “I’m sure we have some pretty legs in this room. You could hear a pin drop as all the women sat patiently waiting for that all-important first number. Once all the catfighting and name-calling got settled, and old grievances were forgiven, I was ready to start the show. All I knew what was about to come to that door was a frenzy of wide-eyed vicious women all fighting for there favourite spot on the bingo floor. I didn’t know what to expect as I stood there waiting for the doors to swing open.

Woman bingo caller