Reykjavík Grapevine - 07.06.2013, Side 16

16The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 7 — 2013
Money For Nothing
Addiction gambling in Iceland
by Thomas L. Moir
An unsteady, elderly man spends the better part of a minute dismounting from his stool. He hobbles over
to the counter, props his walking stick up against the desk and pulls a crumpled 5,000 ISK note from his
pocket. He is unshaven, unwashed and clasps a half empty beer bottle in his stick-less hand.
Iceland | Gambling
The desk is unattended, and the man
grows more impatient by the second. Fi-
nally, from behind the bulletproof glass,
a disinterested staff member emerges,
still chewing down his lunch. He takes
the elderly man’s note and methodically
changes it for coins. The old man col-
lects his coins and his stick wordlessly
and begins the journey back across the
crusty carpet, through the muted-gold
lights, past row upon row of slot ma-
chines of clashing tempos until he makes
it to his preferred spot.
Ask any staff member. On any day at
any Háspenna slot machine venue in the
capital city, the scene couldn’t be more
familiar. And it is only midday.
Although gambling is illegal in Ice-
land, the government has made excep-
tions to allow the University of Iceland
to run a national lottery and Íslandsspil
to run slot machines with funds going to
ICE-SAR, the Icelandic Association for
Search and Rescue; the Icelandic Red
Cross; and SÁÁ, Iceland’s National Cen-
ter of Addiction Medicine.

Taking a gamble
on treatment
Approaching the reception desk at SÁÁ,
I ask for Ási, the gentleman I’m due to
meet. The woman manning the desk
smiles back at me sympathetically be-
fore asking for my full name. I give it to
her. She then requests my social security
number.
I look back at her curiously. She meets
my stare and after a few seconds says,
“Never mind. Well that’ll be 2,000 ISK
then.” Further confused, I ask her why I
need to pay. She looks amused, but still
sympathetic, and replies simply, “You
know, to seek treatment, you need to pay.”
At this point I tell her I’m just here to
chat with Ási, not to ‘chat’ with Ási.
When she finally understands, she
starts laughing, turns to her colleague
and explains the misunderstanding to her,
who also breaks into laughter while I steal
a glance at my reflection in the glass di-
vider to check just how shabby I look.
Resurfacing from the laughter, she
finally turns back and says, “Sorry I
thought you needed treatment.” I thank
her for her flattery and proceed through
the door to meet Ási, a former alcoholic
who has been an alcohol and chemical de-
pendency counsellor with SÁÁ for more
than 15 years.
He offers me a coffee—a permitted
vice here—before we settle into a pair of
comfortable chairs in one corner of his
office. Sporting a beard and well-worn
sweater, Ási comes across as a wise man.
I get the feeling he treats all he meets
with an equally understanding, calm
The youngest one I’ve ever talked
to was 14-years-old... He was so
ashamed that he was losing so
much money gambling that he told
his parents he was using drugs.
“
„
Photos: Simon Steel
main sponsor Icelandair to publish
daily coverage of the festival. For-
eign music journalists and a herd
of photographers were flown in
and we managed to put out three
24-page issues in three days. By the
end of the festival, three foreign mu-
sic journalists and three Grapevine
staffers had matching tattoos, due
to a lost bet involving a hot dog eat-
ing contest.
First time we
lost our s**t
The Grapevine has always been a
small operation. Currently we have
about seven people on our staff,
along with a rather extensive num-
ber of freelance contributors and
interns. There once was a time,
though, when we though we'd up
our game, as was the style at the
time. Yup, in 2006 we kinda lost
sight of things, and that is an under-
statement. We moved into a huge
office with two bathrooms, a caf-
eteria, a meeting room and as many
as five large, separate offices and a
huge open space (we now work out
of "a room").
During the following summer
we had as many as fourteen people
on staff, and countless other paid
contributors. We even had a re-
ceptionist (that was nice, though).
In short, we lost the plot. Why, and
how, this didn't bankrupt Grapevine
is complicated, but to say the least,
there are people out there, some of
whom still work at this publication,
that saved it from sudden death in
the following years by working very
hard, for very little pay.
First global recession
The global recession hit the world in
2008, and as the Grapevine is part of
said world, it was also hit. But with
some restructuring (which involved
moving to a smaller office and re-
ducing the editorial staff to basically
one person), good faith and a whole
lot of patience, we seem to be pull-
ing through OK. The króna lost its
value but now tourists flock to Ice-
land giving us valuable foreign cur-
rency. There is always a silver lining
somewhere.
First non-English
language pages
Iceland after the collapse—and
through some odd misunderstand-
ing (we're looking at you, Deena
Stryker)—started inspiring people
all over the globe to fight the power,
say no to austerity and jail bankers
Continued
Continues over
Continues over