On holiday with a group of friends last week, we decided to play a big game of Monopoly to pass the evening. Fantastic, I thought, I used to love Monopoly as a kid – such a wholesome, family-friendly game.
Wrong. It’s brutal. After the misfortune of not landing on a single street during the first three trips round the board, I found myself with no property and had to spend the next three hours watching my funds ebb away slowly as I paid the everybody else increasingly exorbitant rent with my every move. (Actually, I wasn’t completely property-less – I did manage to get hold of one of those brown streets. You know, the ones that yield £1 rent for each visit). It might be a game designed to celebrate the ‘fun’ of capitalism – the chance to buy property, accrue wealth and beat one’s rivals - but, with my unlucky start in life, I found myself with quite the opposite perspective. I was downtrodden and despairing of ever improving my lot, not to mention feeling abused by tycoons who didn’t seem inclined to show much social responsibility as they built their empires and ruthlessly swallowed up the smaller landlords (see, it’s not an entirely irrelevant post…)
So I’ve changed my mind about Monopoly – less a fun childhood game, more a stark reminder that for every big winner there have to be other unlucky losers, and that those losers will struggle to ever become winners after a bad start. I don’t think I’ll be playing again any time soon. Of course, had the Monopoly boot been on the other foot, maybe I’d have a different view.
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