A years-long quest to get a $50 gift card redeemed has a happy ending

But what D’Avena doesn’t find acceptable is losing out on a $50 gift card given to him as a Christmas gift by a favorite niece.

“It’s not the money, it’s the principle,” he told me about his years-long quest to get his gift card redeemed at the casino. “I’m a regular customer, and they should treat me better than that.”

Plainridge Park became the state’s first casino when it opened its doors to great fanfare in 2015. Since then, it has paid a staggering $633 million in taxes to the state and now employs hundreds, from wait staff to onsite management. It’s owned and operated by Penn Entertainment, a publicly traded national corporation with billions in annual revenue. Penn Entertainment is very much Big Business.

So big, perhaps, that the likes of Joe D’Avena can get overlooked.

But D’Avena, a retired salesman who lives on the Cape and still works part time delivering auto parts, persisted. And his persistence — with a little help from the Globe — finally paid off.

It all began a few years ago when his niece, Linda Muren, gave him a gift card which she thought was exclusively for use at Flutie’s Sport Pub.

The pub, named for BC football great Doug Flutie, opened with the casino, but closed when the pandemic decimated the hospitality industry and never reopened.

It closed before D’Avena got to use his gift card. Since then, he has approached casino personnel several times asking to use the $50 on the slots or at another restaurant. But he says he repeatedly got brushed off.

On March 12, D’Avena sat down for lunch at the restaurant that replaced Flutie’s, The Sportsbook at Plainridge Park (you can place a bet while waiting for your burger and beer). He asked the waitress if the restaurant would accept his gift card, but she said no, after checking with the restaurant manager.

“It’s too old,” D’Avena said the waitress told him.

A couple of weeks later, D’Avena’s niece wrote an email to me. She said I might be able to help convince her stubborn uncle that his quest for $50 was a bit quixotic.

Muren believed that the restaurant manager was right, that the card was worthless. As she wrote to me, “when a company goes out of business … the money’s gone.”

D’Avena, however, was adamant that Plainridge Park should validate his gift card.

“He feels respecting a regular patron and honoring the gift card is the right thing to do,” especially because the casino is owned by a company “with lots of money,” Muren wrote to me.

Then she cast me into the role of arbiter.

“He wants your opinion,” Muren wrote, adding that D’Avena is a regular reader of this column. “I think your opinion can help settle this for him.”

I was flattered, but, honestly, my first reaction was to agree with Muren. If a restaurant goes under (and so many of them do), what’s the point of chasing the owner for a refund if there are no assets. And for $50?

Nevertheless, I asked Muren to send me pictures of the card, front and back. And that’s when I realized it was issued by Plainridge Park, not Flutie’s, even though it’s embossed with “Flutie’s Sports Pub” in big lettering on the front.

On the back of the card, in much smaller lettering, it says, “You may use this card at any participating Plainridge Park Casino outlet.” Bingo.

I contacted Plainridge Park on D’Avena’s behalf and management quickly apologized to him, promised to redeem his card and give him an extra $200 to spend on future lunches.

“While we strive to be perfect, we certainly are not,” said North Grounsell, casino general manager. “We’re sorry for the mistake.”

I give Plainridge Park credit for belatedly owning up to its lapse, but a lot more credit to D’Avena and Muren for their doggedness.

Regarding gift cards in general, the most important thing is to use it before you lose it. If you don’t use it in the first few months, the likelihood of you ever using it plummets.

Gift cards issued by most big national companies have no expiration date. And gift cards issued by merchants in Massachusetts expire no sooner than seven years under state law. (So the waitress was apparently mistaken in saying it was too old.)

Fifty bucks may not be a lot of money in today’s world, but getting it rightfully back in Joe D’Avena’s hands feels a little like hitting a consumer jackpot.

Got a problem? Send your consumer issue to sean.murphy@globe.com. Follow him @spmurphyboston.