As Bitcoin Soars, Chuck E. Cheese Investors Are Vindicated

NATICK, Mass. During the week Trip Mullins is a currency trader for a regional bank in downtown Boston, but on weekends he’s just a suburban dad, chauffeuring his kids from one activity to another. “It’s exhausting but it’s a blast,” he says as he turns to make sure his kids–Courtney, 9, and Jason, 10–are buckled up. “People told me the years go by quickly, but they didn’t mention back-to-back youth hockey games at 6 in the morning.”

Mullins likes to keep business and family separate, but he’s having a hard time these days as he nervously watches the wild market swings of Bitcoin after he decided to buy bitcoin with bank transfer, the cryptocurrency and payment system, as its value gyrates wildly. If you’re interested in tracking the forecast for bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies such as Lumens, there are plenty of online resources available to help you figure it all out. “We may have sat on the sideline too long,” he says as he checks his phone for market news. “I don’t know if I want to jump in on a bubble and lose a pile of money–and my job,” he says nervously as he stops at a mall and his kids pile out of the car to rush into Chuck E. Cheese, the national pizza and arcade franchise that has been a staple of life in the “MetroWest” area since he was a boy growing up here twenty years ago.

Once inside, his children hit him up for money to play games while he orders pizza, but when he joins them as a precaution to make sure they don’t fall prey to child molesters or inter-parent squabbles at the prize redemption counter, a light bulb of inspiration goes on in his brain. “Why am I wasting grey matter following Bitcoin,” he says as he slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I should be buying Chuck E. Cheese tokens!”

When that revelation from the right side of his brain takes over his waking consciousness, he pushes a dawdling fourth-grader aside from in front of the dollar-to-token exchange machine with more force than appears called for. “Beat it, kid,” he says with all the subtlety of a trader on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, then starts feeding bills into the slot to place his bet that the stateless prize-based coins will become the next hot item on world currency markets.

Chuck E. Cheese, whose formal name is Charles Entertainment Cheese, is an anthropomorphic mouse character who is CEO and largest stockholder in a chain of family entertainment centers and restaurants based in Irving, Texas. Since its founding in 1977, the company has relieved American parents of over $523 trillion in value; in exchange, their children are occupied by mind-numbing video games while parents check their phones. The brass coins are issued in a variety of denominations, and can be exchanged at the end of a visit for tacky prizes that typically break before a family returns to its residence.

As he completes his purchase, it occurs to Mullins that he should check in with his boss, Mark Farquahr, to make sure his shift in strategy is consistent with the bank’s long-term investment policy. “Hey Mark, it’s Trip,” he says into his phone while his kids chow down on pizza and soft drinks. “I just went long on Chuck E. Cheese tokens.”


“I just got a crappy prize!”

There is silence at the end of the line, an ominous sign that the decision to freelance on a weekend may not sit well with higher-up corporate muckety-mucks. “How much are you in for?” Farquahr asks, his voice betraying a note of concern.

“Almost $10,” Mullins says, gulping over a lump on his throat.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” Farquahr says, and it is clear from his no-nonsense tone that he is about to issue a command, not a request. “Go over to the prize counter–now–and get me one of those mini-gumball machines. The one I won last week broke before I got it home.”

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