My Twenty-Third Job

Well, it comes to this, does it? I'm up to date with my jobs and I don't have a new job, yet. Of course, I can only blame myself. I got discouraged and gave up looking when no offers for even an interview came in.

This journal was started when I was working at the Golden Nugget. It pretty much is about working at the Golden Nugget, which makes it odd, that this story isn't in it:

I had been at the Golden Nugget for about a week when the shift boss got another dealer for the game I was on. He said, "I like the way you deal. I'm going to try you in the high limit room....You don't care if someone swears at you, do you?" I said, "that I didn't mind at all." Actually, being the girly man that I am, I did care, but now I'm as calloused as a whore at a shriner's convention. (Is that already a saying. Damn, it's a good one. It's inappropriate. I've got to remember it.) He took me into the high limit room and put me on a game. There was no one playing at my game. It made me nervous to be in there. Someone was going to come in, bet large amounts of money and I'm going to make a mistake and be instantly fired. Little did I know, the worse thing that was going to happen was that I was going to be punched.

I noticed a "reserved" sign on my table. I asked the floor supervisor, who it was reserved for. He said, he didn't know. I went on break and people were talking about



"The Sopranos are coming in".

"I'm sorry, by Sopranos, you mean some of the people in the show."

"I don't know."

I get back from my break and it is still dead and still reserved. I was getting really nervous. It was my first time I was on a high limit game and it is going to be celebrities that I've seen once, but other people worship.

It turned out they were coming to my table and it was 5 of the male supporting cast. ("Tony" played the next day, but not on my game.) They were allowed to play anywhere from $5 to $15,000. Luckily, they were $25 players. As they were playing, a crowd formed around me. There were people crammed at the high limit half-gate, gawking at the actors. I think security was given the orders to let one snapshot be taken before the tourists were told they weren't allowed to take pictures. There must be hundreds of pictures of me, pale and nervous, in strangers photo albums.

Inside the pit, a crowd was forming as well. Besides some onlookers, there was two floor supervisors, a casino host, the shift manager, a pit manager, and one of the casino owners, Tim Poster (pictured on the right).



I felt like someone in a traumatic experience, like I was outside of my body, just observing. I did manage to make a wisecrack, which I don't remember. One of the cast said that I sounded like "fat" someone from Jersey. Seems like everyone has the surname "fat" when they are from Jersey. I was destroying them. This was the time when everyone would have liked to see someone win, but no, I was killing them. They couldn't win a single hand. The fat actor to my right dropped his bet down to $5 and made some comment. The actor that plays a heroine addict, said it wasn't my fault, it's just the cards. He turned out to be a really nice guy.

Tim Poster decided that I needed some help. Thank God! He came and took my spot for a couple of hands. He was a horrible dealer, but dealt the cards in a special way. He told all of them to bet big, stacks of green. They did. Tim then took one green chip off of each bet and put them in the dealer's tip position. He then dealt out the cards. He, as the dealer was showing a ten. He took that card and put it in the discard rack and now was showing five. He told them to hit. One of them had a thirteen and took a hit as instructed. It was a ten, so Tim moved it to the next player that could use a ten. I think, you get the picture. He did this for a couple of hands and had me take over the game.

I came back the same way that I left. I was destroying them. After a particularly nasty hand, my hand was flat on the table and one of the fat actors took is fist and rammed it down on my hand. OK, so it really wasn't being punched and it only hurt a little. I also felt it was a little bit in jest. I learned later from one of the security guards that maybe it wasn't in jest. They were talking about me for a day after dealing to them.

A month later, an officer from Nevada Gaming, came in to interview me regarding that night. It turned out that manipulating the cards into wins is a gaming violation. The interview basically consisted of how I felt about it. I said that I felt alright. Apparently, the right thing to say was that it was wrong and I felt something was going on. I figured that it was Tim Poster's money and he should be able to basically give it to the Sopranos if he wanted to. The result of this interview and other interview's with other dealers was a $150,000 fine and a letter of apology to the dealers admitting that it was wrong.

I've since dealt to sports celebrities without knowing it. Other people spotted, but not dealt to are: Alyssa Milano, Cheech Marin, Patrick Swayze, Justin Timberlake, and others I can't remember right now.

My tip

Last night, I had a group of gypsies playing at my $25 blackjack game. There was a father, wife, daughter, and son. The women were not allowed to play, but were just allowed to watch. Yep, gypsies are sexist. The father asked, "where are my cigarettes?"

The mother replied, "I thought you got them from the bar."

Father, "I thought you got them. I didn't get them."

Mother, "I didn't get them, they are your cigarettes. I'll go check the bar" Minute later. "There wasn't any there"

Father, "Any what?"

Mother, "Cigarettes. I couldn't find your cigarettes."

Father, "Why would I need cigarettes? I have some in my pocket." I laughed pretty hard at this, so did the daughter.

Couple of minutes later....the father asked, "Where are my cigarettes?"

Mother, "I'll go buy you some cigarettes."

Me..."You can get free cigarettes from the cocktail waitress, just ask for them."

The mother kept trying to go get cigarettes and the father said he had plenty a couple of times. Meanwhile, the daughter, the only sane was urging her mother to stay to get cigarettes from the cocktail waitress. The daughter lost, but the cocktail waitress brought back cigarettes before the mother came back.

Now, the son ended up playing by himself with his father watching. He did all the hand gestures that gypsies do and put himself into a little bit of a blackjack trance. He turned his $400 into $4,000 very quickly. When he lost a hand, he looked up at me, looked me in the eye and began speaking in a foreign language. He repeated what he was saying twice. I recognized it as a romance language that wasn't spanish or french. The only word I caught was "solamente". I grasped that and put it into my internal romance language translator and interpreted it as "only". Indeed, it is spanish for "only". I don't speak spanish, this just shows the power of my internal romance language translator. All bow to me. Anyway, I'm certain that it wasn't spanish. I just looked at him bewildered as I translated "solamente". He said, "Don't worry. It's a good thing." So, my tip was a gypsy blessing. No money. It better work or I'll be mad.

Are we obnoxious?

Couple of things.

I forgot to add this about Joe, the foul mouthed dealer:

I think he did kill someone. I forgot to talk about how he said it is always good to keep a "throwaway" which is a gun that is "hot" and you can toss in the sewer when you use it that way it can't be traced back to you. He said he doesn't have a throwaway because now he is "legit".

Thanks to , I remembered that.

finally has a new post that makes me think that every one that serves me secretly hates me. Do we hate the people we serve because of repetition or because they really are obnoxious? I hope it is repetition. There really isn't much you can do to not be repetitious in someone else's footsteps.

Joe the foul-mouthed dealer from Philly

So, there is a dealer that I work with that is in his 50's and of Italian descent. He works the word "fucking" into his sentences with ridiculous frequency. I am not offended, but I find it immature. He'll say things like "He owns this fucking piece of fucking land. You can fucking build fucking anything you fucking want on it. You could build a fucking McDonald's, a fucking Taco Bell, a fucking Jack in the Box, a fucking Wendy's" by now you're thinking, I get it. You can build a fucking fast food restaurant, but he goes on. "a fucking Del Taco, a fucking Burger King, a fucking McDonald's." Oh, did he mention this already. Yes, and in a normal conversation he fucking repeats himself fucking three or more times.

He also likes to refer to his "piece", a handgun. He likes to wear it in his pants and takes it with him in his car. When someone almost ran him off of the road in an honest driving error, he had them pull over and ran up to their car screaming with. He amuses himself with the fact that they were petrified, because he later realized they could see his gun in his pants. He obsessed with security, safety, and not being the victim of a crime. His house is outfitted with "fucking sensor lights" and "fucking surveillance cameras" to detour and catch anyone thinking of committing a crime.

The last day that he worked with me (he got another "fucking job" at "fucking Mandalay Bay"), he was talking about how times have changed. "You can't commit a fucking murder like you fucking used to with all the fucking forensics nowadays. You know what I fucking mean? I mean you used to be fucking able to pop a fucking cap behind the fucking ear with a fucking .22, wrap them up in a fucking shower curtain and fucking dump them out in the fucking woods. The next day, you would fucking read about it in the fucking paper." He then kind of alluded to the fact that he had commited a murder. It was like he was catching himself from saying it. I can't even remember the exact wording. I really don't think that he is the type to brag about a murder he hadn't committed. Anyway, he continued talking about how his Grandfather had to have a car with a big trunk "back in those days, it was important to be able to stick a couple of fucking bodies in the back, you know what I mean?" It's funny, whenever I describe the size of a trunk I always say how many bodies can fit in it. So, Joe, I know exactly what you mean. He also talked about the fact that he had been taken in for questioning about murders three times and the trick is to say "I don't fucking know nothing" over and over. His grandfather always told him, they can't trick you if you don't know.

Now Joe has also taken fake slips in supermarkets and then later hit his foot with a hammer so he could get a settlement. He is also quite proud of that fact.

I feel I should put something in my journal just because I haven't for a while. So, sit back and get ready to read a boring entry.

Work has improved recently. I haven't been in the high roller room for a week and the people that I have been dealing to have been nice. All of the dealers noticed that the people over the past two weeks have been just awful. Isn't it funny that all the jerks go on vacation at the same time.

Greg said that he is tired of thinking that the "grass is greener on the other side". Now that he got a job at Whiskey Pete's as a server, he's thinking that he isn't going to try to apply to another job for a very long time. I, of course, think that a job in town would be better than a 41 mile drive each way (that's 82 miles a day for the hopelessly math impaired). I figure after some experience and after he tires of the drive and gas prices, he will apply for a server job in town. He kind of wants me to adapt the same attitude as he, but I can't. I can't be a dealer the rest of my life. The older dealers that I work with are "burnt". They hate their jobs and they hate life. Also, I don't want to be working until 4AM for the rest of my life. I'm not sure what to do next, which has always been my problem all along. It's too bad that Greg doesn't enjoy job and city hopping as much as I do. Oh well.

Well, that is all for now.

Bad Day

So, I had a bad day. I really didn't enjoy today in the least. I've been down about work lately, mostly because we have had a lot of rich golfers playing. So, tip money has been way down. And, as you know from my rantings about golfers, I haven't been treated very nicely either.

Well, the golfers were gone today. I haven't been in the high limit pit all week (I think they know I'm pretty burned out on it). So, they've been keeping me on $25 dollar tables in the regular pits. Today, I started dealing like a zombie not really wanting to put on a show, but the customers were great. They were some of the nicest people I've dealt to in a long time. Not a lot in tips, but some tips. That's what a dealing job is all about. I stopped being so down about it. Then, I was tapped out and told to take out Pai Gow Poker for twenty minutes. I really didn't know why. I haven't dealt Pai Gow Poker for almost a year. I get there and no one is friendly and one guy is betting $200, more than I have ever dealt to on Pai Gow. So, I decided to go a little slow and make sure I do everything right. Well, at the end of the twenty minutes, I laid out my hand incorrectly. The floor supervisor came over and said "straight" quietly (actually, he doesn't really speak english. All I heard was a grunt.) Then the dealer came over back from break and said "straight" as well (also, not an english speaker). And then I saw that I had a straight. Well, I already gave the first $10 better a push. That means that they get off without losing due to my fault. Well, the person betting $200 had his hand spread out when I rearranged my hand to a straight. (It helps if you understand Pai Gow Poker to get what I'm talking about). Anyway, that turned his winning hand into a losing hand, but I thought it was a push. I heard "loss" and realized that I should take his money, so I did. (Actually, I'm not suppose to take his money, because his hand was spread out when I rearranged my hand. That's Nevada gaming law.) But I took it, not thinking because I'm never over there and I had no instruction from my supervisor, not even in the form of grunts. The guy started incoherently yelling and yelling, insisting that the supervisor call the camera. So, I laid out his hand again and then he said he was wrong and that he did lose. That ended that ordeal as I went on break.

I asked the pit boss what was going on, why did I have to go to Pai Gow? He said that they needed to get a statement from the dealer because they were going to arrest that man (the large better) for past posting. (Past posting is when a person adds money to their bet after they learn that they are going to win). The man was arrested shortly after.

Anyway, I went back to my table after my break and the people had all changed. It turned into one of the worst tables I have ever been on. I have to constantly tell two drunk people to not use two hands on the cards. One of them would instantly drop the cards like they were hot potatoes. The other one would yell, "Jeez, why are guys so mean?" I was actually really nice about it. The people were winning and still acting like they were taking a beating. One drunk lady constantly said, "You suck!" to me. And everyone was complaining about the cards even though the lowest player was up $100 and some players were up $1,000. I really can't describe how horrible it was, but trust me it was horrible. And, of course, no tips.

The person relieving me came to take me out 40 minutes 'til the end of the shift, which means a 20 minute break and then back to the table. He told me just to go home and that he would take care of the table. That never happens. Dealers don't do that. Dealers don't voluntarily work an extra twenty minutes, but I think everyone could see that I had it. Near the end, I even said while dealing, "Jesus Christ, what have I done to deserve this table?!" I never do things like that. It was taken light-heartedly by the table though, as I knew it would.

Then on top of that, my break coincided with someone that I can't stand. I really can't stand this guy and I can tolerate almost anyone. I can't stand his voice or is face. I sometimes walk around him just so I don't have to hear him say "hello". I always try to avoid getting the same break as him. I think he is an idiot for so many reasons. I can't stand idiots and he is the cream of the crop.

So, he sat down by me today as I knew he would and made some small chit chat that I could tolerate. He then turned it into a tirade about what Louis Farrakahn said in a speech. He said that Farrakahn said that black people should strap bombs on themselves and blow up white people more so than the terrorists. I know that Farrakahn is known to make outrageous statements, but I knew exactly where this was coming from and so I calmly pointed it out after he finished yelling about it. (Oh, and there was a black man at the table next to us). I said, "What is the source on this? It sounds like Fox News." He said that he was sure it was on all of the channels. I said, "Well, it really sounds like Fox News. They like to take statements out of context. I know that Farrakahn says some crazy things, but it really sounds like Fox News blowing something out of proportion." He said, "yeah, well, he's crazy. And if you turned on the news today you would have seen it on all of the news channels." I replied truthfully, "well, I watched the news today and I didn't see it, but I didn't watch Fox News." This left him speechless until he said it was time to go back to work. He didn't approach me again that night.

Day One

"Do you deal roulette?"

Oh god, I thought. I do deal roulette. I hadn't dealt it in a year. He's going to put me on roulette and some jerk is going to bet some horrible amount on splits, corners and straight-ups and I'm going to be screwed. "Uhhh..." I stalled as I looked over at the roulette game. No players there. "Yes, I deal roulette."

"Hmm," he spotted my obvious tactic. "That dealer needs to go home. It's only for an hour. Go take her out."

I like standing behind the roulette table. I like playing with the checks on a dead game. I shuffle them, cut them out, and stack them back up. It beats standing dead on a blackjack game. There's nothing to do on a blackjack game, but stand and direct people to the bathroom or the exit.

A customer approached. He was a short, rotund man with an obvious comb-over of grey hair. He wore a cheap dark blue windbreaker buttoned up all the way to the top. I knew he was either a small player that I could handle or the type of high roller that looks like a small player until they whip out a stack of hundreds.

"So, what do they do here?" He said looking with his crossed eyes all over the layout of red and black numbers.

I knew then that I wasn't going to be in over my head. "This is roulette," I smiled. "Are you familiar with roulette?"

"No, what is it?" He sounded very innocent and sincere. I was a little surprised that he hadn't heard of roulette, but it looked like maybe he spent his life in his mother's basement playing Dungeons and Dragons. I'm not making a judgment here, I would probably have done the same if I liked Dungeons and Dragons and my parents had a basement.

I happily explained, "You bet on numbers and if the number you bet on comes up, you win. It's very easy."

"Oh, I tried playing the game with the dice and I didn't do very well. Maybe this is better. How much do I have to bet?" He asked eagerly.

"Well, the minimum right now is five dollars and that means you can bet five dollars on one section or you can spread five dollars around on all of the numbers."

He pulled out exactly five dollars. I gave him five chips and explained the different ways to bet on more than one number at a time. He understood readily and decided to bet on splits (two numbers at a time) to cover a total of ten numbers. I noticed as he bet that his index finger on his right hand had previously been a toe that was sewn on in place of a finger. It was mesmerizing and surreal to see a toe where a finger should be.

I spun the ball. He looked over at the wheel as if he just saw it for the first time. "What happens now? Do I have to wait for that to stop?" Before I could answer, the ball dropped on a loser. I dropped my shoulders, marked the number and swept up his five chips. "Did I win?" he sounded hopeful.

"No, I'm sorry. You lost."

"Oh," he said. "I lost. Well, they say the only way you can make a small fortune in Vegas is by coming with a large fortune." I laughed. I'm sure I heard that one before, but I always try to make it seem like the I'm hearing it for the first time.

He pulled out a twenty. I gave him twenty chips. This time he bet on ten splits for a total of twenty numbers. I explained that he was betting ten to win seventeen, but it didn't really register which was OK. I lot of people play that way. I spun the ball. Again, a loser. He set up his last ten chips. I spun the ball hoping to give this poor guy something. I even muttered, "come on winner" under my breath.

He got one. "You won."

"I won," he said flatly.

"Yes, you won. Here you go. Seventeen plus you keep the chip that won, so now you have eighteen dollars."

"Oh, I think I better stop now." He said holding his chips tightly. "Do you cash them?"

"No, I don't cash them, but let me exchange them for chips that you can take to the cashier." I was a little disappointed he didn't want to go one more spin. I figured I could probably get him back to even at least. The way he was betting, it had a possibility.

"Are there any other casinos in the area?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah, just go out the front doors and there is one across the street and four that way and eight that way." How could he miss them?

"Oh, are there any restaurants in the area? I mean cheaper ones. I just got here today and I'm staying here. I went the cafe here and I got a turkey sandwich and it came to thirteen dollars." Mild outrage surrounded the words, "thirteen dollars". I explained that a lot of casinos in the area have much cheaper places to eat and that we tended to be the most expensive. He replied, "that will be good I could go eat there and spend more here." I chuckled appreciatively on the casino's behalf. I felt bad for the guy. He obviously didn't come prepared for the expenses of Vegas. He didn't even come prepared for the expenses of gambling. He plans money for vacations like I do. I always underestimate expenses horribly and end up in debt. Poor guy. Vegas is going to eat him alive.

He gathered up his eighteen dollars. "Thank you for your help. I'm sure I'll see you around. I'm going to be here for six days."

Inappropriate Comment

So today on my dead game I had something to think about for a little while. Yesterday, I had a couple of escorts with older guys on my game. They were pretty wild, but manageable. The guys had flown in with the escorts from Texas. It sounded like the guys were regular customers. I even heard one of them talking about a watch that he had bought for his wife to one of the escorts.

They came back tonight, but were playing on another table. Our new shift manager came up to me and said, "Looks like your friends are back tonight. They look different."

I replied, "They are much more subdued."



He said, "They look cleaner. There was a lot of fucking and sucking going on up in their rooms last night."

I only was able to say, "yeah." The shift manager then went on to another pit.

So, I was given the following topics to think about on my dead game:

Is it appropriate for a shift manager to use that language to an employee? No, well, legally he could get in a lot of trouble. I don't care, but it could cause problems for him. That goes for any employee though. How about a boss? They obviously have to set an example with professional behavior. On the other hand, they are entitled to free speech, should that be infringed upon by a corporation? Don't get me wrong, I understand sexual harassment laws and why we have them, but are they too protective? I don't know. I personally don't find such talk appropriate at work, not like I talk like that at home.

Why did he use such pornographic language to describe the obvious? Last night, it was quite clear they were going to be getting sexual. The shift manager saying so was the equivalent of saying the sky is blue. It's obvious. Of course, we all say obvious things throughout the day in the guise of conversation. ie. "It's really raining out there".
Now, if he said, "they had a lot of sex last night", I would have thought "well, duh". He instead gave me a visual of at least two sexual positions. Was that the purpose of the language? A sort of mental porno among co-workers.

I forgot what else I thought about this incident, but it was interesting. You'll have to trust me on this.

All in all, I don't really care about what he said. I was just a little shocked that it came from my boss and it gave me something to think about.

Should Men Wear Jewels?

So, I'm standing on a dead game. It happens a lot in the high limit pit. The games there do not have to be busy to make crazy money, so they stay open and dead sometimes. An hour can feel like a day when you are just standing there looking at a flower arrangement and hoping that the next person sitting down isn't an asshole. I feel that I should fill those times with something constructive, but I can't really do anything besides think. Tonight, I added in my head to pass the time. I did the basic 2 2=4, 4 4=8, 8 8=16. When I get to right above 10,000, I forget the number and decide that it is stupid and pointless anyway. I went to a "boredom" game website and it suggested trying not to think about polar bears. It said the entertainment factor was about 2-3 minutes. Unfortunately, the entertainment lasted about 30 seconds after I completely forgotten that I was playing a game.

I noticed that the floor supervisor was wearing a ring with a big ruby in it. I like rubies a lot, but I think they look stupid on men. Is it just me or is it the way I was raised. I think jewelry on men looks horrible and tacky. Some of the male dealers at work have huge gold bracelets and gaudy gold pinky rings. Oh my god, make me vomit. Also, what are they telling the people that tip them? "I have so much money that I waste it on frivolous man jewelry. Give me more, so I can waste it." What jerks!

Now don't get me wrong, I like simple gold or silver bands and watches. I don't like watches covered with diamonds (I see a ton of them in the high limit room. Again, what jerks!) I think all stones are bad except tiger's eye. Why Tiger's eye? Well, I can think of two reasons. One, my father has a nice tiger's eye ring. It is a nice earthy tone and is understated rather than flashy. The other reason is interesting if true. Pagans associate tiger's eye with masculinity. Could it be that tiger's eye is masculine for a reason? That is looks appropriate on men for a reason? or is it that I was exposed to it as a child and therefore find it appropriate? Thinking about this killed about 5 minutes on a dead game.

In other news, someone won $150,000 off of me a couple of days ago, betting $5,000 a hand. They lost it to another dealer. I was told by the player that if they won $500,000, they would buy me a car. Of course, the casino doesn't allow that though. It was one of my least favorite players in the world though (an owner of another casino). I did get a $1,000 tip which is very rare from him. Interestingly enough, he has a diamond encrusted watch.

National Finals Rodeo

Well, I found people worse than golfers when it comes to tips. The "cowboys" that are here for the National Finals Rodeo are the worst tippers I have ever seen. They don't tip the dealers, but they do tip the cocktail waitress fifty cents, not even a dollar. That's pretty cheap when you are playing $100 a hand

In contrast to golfers the "cowboys" have all been nice people other than their lack of tipping. They are friendly and don't treat me like a "piece of shit" proletariat that needs to be put in his place.

In other news at work, they are making us sign a piece of paper. This paper says that we will be written up to different degrees for making mistakes depending on the amount of money involved. So, if you make a mistake under $100 than you get a point, if you make a mistake over $1,000 than you get more points or or get fired or whatever. I haven't seen the form yet. Anyway, that means that when they put me in the high limit room, I'm exposed to more risk for the same amount of pay. When someone said that it was "unfair" to the Casino Manager, he said that all of the big casinos are doing it. A Co-worker of mine checked with her daughter that works at the Bellagio and she has never heard of such a form. Bellagio is part of MGM/Mirage corp. making it part of the company that owns the majority of the big casinos. I have a good feeling that our Casino Manager is just a liar. Everyone at work is talking union. It won't happen, but it should, just because we deserve sick days if nothing else.

The mandatory meeting

I was not invited to the mandatory meeting, however many of my co-workers were. They were officially reduced to extra board (on call) with a promise of at least 1 day a week starting Nov. 22nd. People, like me, who were not knocked down are planning to donate one of our days a week to the less fortunate. Hopefully, that will keep them in work until April when the new Wynn Resorts will open and then there will be so many openings in Las Vegas that no one will be needing work.

No piece of paper for me

I did not get an invitation to the mandatory meeting. So, I'll be working at the Golden Nugget for a little while.

Today, one of our newest employees, an older gentleman, was saying that everyone was so down-in-the-dumps about the meeting. He thought it was probably a pep rally and that they wanted to thank the new employees. I told him that this was exactly what they did with the boxmen and that they were talking about gettting rid of 10 blackjack games, so I didn't think it was a pep rally.

He said, "I'm not going to have a job." He said this is the most pitiful, sad way. I felt so bad, but I think he should be prepared.

Layoffs - Golden Nugget Style

For the last couple of days, dealers hired recently have been given a piece of paper that is hand written that says "Mandatory Meeting - 12 Noon Monday". This is exactly what happened to the boxmen at the Golden Nugget. What happened was that they went to the meeting and found out that they were laid off effective immediately. One supervisor said that it was not as bad as the dealer's think. Which could mean that the dealers called to the meeting will be moved to "extra board" which is basically on call. When moved to extra board, the new dealers may work only one day a week. This will prevent the Golden Nugget from giving out unemployment.

I have not received a piece of paper yet, however, someone hired one week after me has received one. They only have one more day to give me the paper, so keep your fingers crossed. Unfortunately, half of my friends were hired after me. It's really sad and the mood at work is very depressed.

The Bubsy

We've had three golf tournaments come through the Golden Nugget over the last three weeks. Golfers are perhaps the worst group of people in the world. They are obnoxious and for the most part non-tippers. In fact, when there is a golf tournament we are packed, but usually end up making less than when we are much less crowded. The latest tournament is called "The Bubsy" after the founder, I guess.

The dealers on "whore watch", noted that the whores were working double time. As soon as they would come down, they would go back up. Also, there were quite a few whores that accompanied the golfers at the tables. The ones that didn't get whores went to a strip club called the "Spearmint Rhino". Sorry about my use to the word "whore", but if you know me, you know I like the word. It is one of the stronger words in the English language. I try to use it as much as possible.

I had one golfer that came to my table with about $200 in chips. He asked for a marker (credit line). I called out for one and the floor person said that he would be right there. He was very busy, we had a ton of "Bubsy's" come in and the marker system was in chaos. So, I shuffled. After I shuffled, the golfer looked at me angrily and said, "where is my marker?". I told him that there were some problems going on with the computers and if he wanted to bet more than the $200, because we could wait. He said that he didn't want to bet more than the $200. He played two hands and won them both. He looked at me frustrated and threw his arms up indicating that his marker still hadn't arrived. I replied that I was sorry and the floor person was very busy. He played more and more and won an amount that totaled more than the marker amount he requested. The floor person came over apologizing. The golfer yelled at him and said that he was too late. All this anger and he never even needed a marker. What a waste of perfectly good anger.

Another one of the golfers I had today turned out to have won a grammy. He won it for writing a Chaka Kahn song. What would people think? He was an older, white, non-tipping male golfer. That lifestyle just doesn't scream Chaka Kahn to me. How do you like your R & B? As white as possible please.

Our new Casino Manager is driving everyone crazy. He came into the high limit pit today and saw it was busy. He told the pit manager that he wanted a floor person on every game. To do that, he would have to have all of the floor people in the whole casino be in the high limit pit. It clearly isn't logical thinking and makes me wonder how he got this job. Also, it indicates that he doesn't trust the dealers. This isn't the first time that he has shown distrust. He once said to a floor supervisor to add up the total number of chips on a three-dealer baccarat game every hour, regardless if there were any players on the game. When asked why, he replied that he didn't trust the dealers. He said this in front of the dealers and appeared to be very serious.

The Most Common Wallet

The most common wallet that I see in the high limit pit is a rubber band. They always have a big wad of money in a rubber band. Probably, the money is too big for their wallet. However, I've seen someone with a bunch of credit cards and ID in a rubber band as well.

Maybe they are so rich because they have a rubber band as a wallet. Very rarely do I see money clips, but their are some.

Mr. Initials

We call him by his first two initials, but for privacy sake we will just call him Mr. Initials. Mr. Initials is a player who doesn't like to play with other people on the table. He only plays the six deck shoe by himself. He started about 4 months ago on a $10 table. He would win a lot and then quit. Then he went to $25. Again, he won and quit. Then he started going to the high limit pit. It got to the point that he was betting $1,000 or more at a time (up to $15,000 a hand). One night, I beat him out of $100,000, but the next dealer gave it all back plus.

Last week, he lost $500,000, which was all of the money that he won. He started over and is now to the $25 dollar table.

Shuffle of Doom

I was in the high limit pit today on a $200 blackjack game. It started with a young, russian man who was betting $225 and not tipping. I could tell because he would put his $12.50 on top of his bet after a blackjack. I changed my shuffle to what other dealers swear will destroy a person and I did a pretty good job of taking the majority of his money. Let that be a lesson to always tip. Everyone on break congratulated me on a job well done. It is always good to free up the tables for people that do tip.

The next person and the only other person I got was a man from Tulsa, Oklahoma. He complained constantly, even when he pushed. In fact, he was up $2,000 and would still complain. He was swearing and throwing his cards. To his credit though, it was about an hour before he said, "un-fucking-believable" and then the standard "you're killing me". However, his anger was never directed at me, but at the cards, so I never changed my shuffle to the shuffle of doom. He was tipping very rarely, $5 here and there, but the potential was there for him to be a good tipper.

At one point, he had two "8's" against my "9" with $600 up. He talked about what to do for about 10 minutes. He debated about whether to split them or just hit. He took out his card and consulted it. He went over statistics in his head. He tried to remember what cards had come out before. He consulted his son-in-law who said, "just make a bloody decision" (he was from England). He asked the floor supervisor, who said to split them. He hemmed and hawed and then split them. The card that came next on his "8" was a "3" making it a possible double down hand. This caused the floor supervisor and another dealer to break out laughing imagining another 10 minutes for a decision. He doubled down and got a "10". On his next hand he got a "10" to make "18". I, of course, busted. He then began to tip me every hand at $10 a pop. All in all, it worked out. End result: He made $10,000 and the dealers made about $600.

Why Sona's Passport has her as 4 Years Older than She is

Sona was 15 in Afghanistan, spending her time in school and borrowing her grandmother's romance novels. Her father was a 4-star general in the Afghanistan army, but there was opposition growing in the communist party. One day, her father called and told the family, mother and seven children not to go out, trouble was brewing. They had a party planned for Friday and they canceled it.

Later that day, her mother called her father's post. The phone was answered, "Slaughterhouse". She hung up. While they were eating diner, they listened to their cousin on the radio that read the news. She reported an attack by the communist party on the Afghanistan army. She listed the names of the people who were executed, she came to Sona's fathers name and then stopped. She passed out. Sona and her family stopped eating and ran outside cursing the communist party.

Her father was lined up against a wall with other army officials and told that if they joined the communist party they could keep the same rank and be released. He spat on the floor and was gunned down in a machine gun execution.

From then on, when extended family came to visit, their house was surrounded by Afghanistan army men with machine guns with several inside the house as well. They slept in clothes with shoes on, in case, they would be taken to prison in the middle of the night.

Sona's mother bribed government officials a lot of money for fake passports with fake last names. Early one morning, the mother gathered everyone and they sneaked to the airport, praying that no one would recognize them. They went to Germany. Sona's father was friends with the German ambassador to Afghanistan. He arranged a hotel for them and then had the government buy them a house. They eventually got their names corrected in their passports, but their birth years remained incorrect. Sona's says she is 4 years older than she really is. Her sister, who is 9 years older than her, has a passport that says she is 8 years younger than she really is.

The second most common way to complain

So, today I had a woman who said sternly as she was losing, "You're wearing me out." That's not the second most common way to complain which I also heard today. The second most common is "You're killing me!" Really? It looks more like suicide to me.

Employee Appreciation Week

That's right, a whole week. There have been cute posters around the employee area that says in honor of employee appreciation week we were getting candy on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Tuesday, we were suppose to get Mounds bars, because we deserve "mounds of praise". On swing shift, they ran out. Apparently, a lot of the maids took large quantities home. It also turned out that they were the "fun size". What's so fun about "fun size" anyway? We all felt pretty under-appreciated on swing shift.

Today, we were suppose to get Crunch, because we "crunch the competition". They ran out. Tomorrow, we were suppose to get Hot Tamales (the candy), because we "sizzle with customer service". They will run out. So, I think I will go out and buy the regular sized versions of these and feel appreciated.

The appreciation we did get was on Monday, because they served gyros. By the way, people who did not grow around a large greek population do not seem to know how to pronounce "gyros". In case you don't know, it is "yeer-ohs". It has nothing to do with a gyroscope, so I think it is appropriate that it is not pronounced as such. I remember a mexican serving me a gyro in New York kept trying to correct my pronounciation of gyros. That made me mad, because I was saying it correctly and he was an idiot.