Inevitably every Friday afternoon, one of my friends asks, "What are you doing this weekend?" My answer is always, "Tonight I have Bingo." I'm almost 17 years old, and I go to Bingo every Friday night, only I don't play; I work there. Unfailingly I get the same response: an incredulous "You work at Bingo?" Yes, I do, and I have been for five years. The next comment is always, "You get to call the balls! Wow, that's really cool!" I hate to disappoint folks, but actually, no, I don't. I work in the kitchen. I take orders, make sandwiches, and clean-up (ugh!). Their next comment isn't as positive as the first. Usually it is something like "Why do you give up your Friday nights to work at Bingo?" Trust me, it's not because I like to work, and it's not for the money; it's for the people. The people I work with have become my family.

Because I work in a men's Christian organization, most of the people are men. The older guys are like second fathers to me. One is a professor at Providence College in Rhode Island and is always asking about my grades. The police officers who oversee Bingo are forever teasing me about my driving, while the younger guys serve as older brothers. We discuss books, music, and in all honesty, we even make fun of the players! When it comes down to it, even though I may complain about going to work, I always end up enjoying myself once I'm there. They all tell me I'm a spoiled brat, and you know, they're right. After all some kids can't even say they have one family, and here I am saying I have two! c