When I see this image of gumballs, I have mixed feelings. Yes, gumballs are an innocent, if not nostalgic, candy which children and adults alike may enjoy. But is this truly the whole story? Or is it simply a candy coating with a darker interior, filled with ulterior motives? The hard truth is there is money to be made in the gumball industry, and none of it is clean as you may think. William Wrigley Jr., so-called gumball “magnate,” was the first to truly dominate the market over 100 years ago. It seems impossibly difficult to believe, though, that someone who has the term “magnate” next to their name when you google them would have their hands completely clean of monetary greed, don’t you? Let me tell you why. Let me outline the dangerous way in which these gumballs are a gateway for our children to more dark and dangerous vices.
Step 1: The Intrigue
Little Timmy is out for lunch with his parents at his favorite mom and pop pizza parlor when out of the corner of his eye, way in the back of the restaurant, he spots the gumball machine. Timmy’s 6-year-old brain is enraptured by the rainbow of colors it possesses, and even at this moment, something in the back of his mind knows that he should insert a coin and get a special reward in return. He begs his father for a quarter, to which his father reluctantly agrees. Little Timmy runs over to the machine, inserts the quarter into the slot, and relishes how satisfying that crank, marked with that Wrigley logo, is to turn. It is as if this process was designed to be addictive even from this point on. Out pops the gumball, and Timmy is ecstatic when he pops it into his mouth. This feeling wanes immediately, though, when he spots a special ball in the machine, this one containing a five-dollar bill. He becomes irritated that he did get this reward. Before he has a chance to ruminate on this, he is called away by his parents.
Step 2: The Habit
Little Timmy is now 14 years old and goes by Tim. He wants to sound more mature and grown-up, and even Tim sounds childish to him. On his way to a birthday hangout at the Wrigley Center arcade, he is sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his father driving. His father hears a faint buzzing noise and eventually realizes it is coming from Tim’s brightly lit phone. He never understood the appeal of those dopamine-filled match-three games that Tim plays. He preferred to live in the real world. As his father parked in front of the arcade, Tim jumps out without ever once looking up from his phone and gives an abrupt goodbye to his father. He is, after all, more focused on finishing one last level of his game. After he is done, Tim finds his growing group of friends in front of the arcade.
He quickly becomes distracted, though, by the sights of flashing colors through the large glass windows that covered the entirety of the front wall of the establishment, as well as the faint buzz of success that came through cha-chings and rickety-rickety-ricks of the games being played, which to Tim are so incredibly satisfying. Once inside the great, looming building, Tim is utterly overwhelmed by these sights and sounds, which, to him, represent not only the chance for a good time but for success as well. This thought itches at the back of his mind, especially when he sees the top prize, a brand-new gaming console, on the top shelf of the rewards counter. How great, he thinks, would it be to win this console simply from playing enough and being good enough at these arcade games? Before long, Tim develops a strategy. He finds that the greatest return on tickets comes from the ball drop game, in which you must time a ball drop so that it lands in the right hole. Tim forgets about his friends for the rest of the evening, racking up tickets at this game. By the end of the night, Tim is still short of earning the console by about 1,000 tickets. He leaves the arcade to get pizza with his friends, but all he can think about the entire time is how he was so close to winning. It feels like he has left a task unfinished. He has to go back.
Step 3: The Obsession
Now 30 years old, Tim ecstatically waits in his Uber for his arrival at his hotel on Santa Catalina Island. Once he arrives, he is greeted by a myriad of friendly and welcoming hotel employees. He has never felt so extravagant, on top of being happy for his soon-to-be married friend. Nothing could bring him down this weekend. After a great dinner at a local seafood place, the friend group decides to take an evening stroll around the town in which they are located. Just as evening morphed into night and the sound of crickets arose, Tim heard a faint ching-ching-ching sound that only he seemed to notice, as if he had a sixth sense for whatever the sound was. As the group turned the corner in front of them, the source of the noise came into view. His friends could hear I,t too, as they moved closer. Once they realize that the building in front of them was, in fact the island casino, which they did not know about somehow, something animalistic kicks in for Tim. Something deep inside of him. He convinces his friends to go inside the building for a while, despite the groom at this bachelor party being vehemently anti-gambling. This is the point of no return for Tim. As they enter the building, a plaque just past the doors is easily missed by Tim, who is enthralled by the sights and sounds of this place, which he has come to find comfort in. It has the name of the founder of the casino they are in, and a description. William Wrigley Jr., it reads, who, after building a gumball empire, settled down and decided to build casinos. Tim floats towards the slot machines as if he is a puppet on a string, being played just for fun. This is how Tim spends the night. He starts with penny slots but soon mixes things up with blackjack and poker, each a game of skill, which he is so eager to demonstrate to himself that he has. Only once a crack of sunlight penetrates the large interior and the other sad, long-forgotten losers depart does Tim regain his consciousness.
He has lost all $300 dollars in his wallet and has no idea what happened to his friends. If he had his credit card with him, he would have lost far more. He feels annoyed, as if his big win was only a few plays away, and that he is being pulled out of his zone prematurely. He figures, though, that the next night is a new opportunity.
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