Monthly Archives: February 2014

I love the Irish. They are never afraid to speak their mind, tell it like it is. I got a little of that from my mother.

It was a regular weekday afternoon, in my old Leeds casino. I had not been dealing Blackjack very long, perhaps six months. My supervisor and friend Linda stood by my side. An Irish gentleman, new to casinos, came to sit at the table. It was evident that he had never played the game before. About three hands in, he suddenly rose from his seat, clearly agitated.

“This game’s f**king fixed!” He yelled, at the top of his voice in a strong Belfast brogue.

I was a mere twenty one years old. I froze on the spot, and raised my hands in the air in total submission. I had no clue what he was talking about. I hadn’t even got to his hand yet. The player on the second box had just drawn a card.

“You’re a bunch o’ tieves!” He was red in the face with anger. “A bunch o’ f**king tieves!”

“Sir, what’s the matter?” Linda asked him, coolly.

“Look! Look!” He screamed. “Dere’s two tree o’ clubs!”

Apparently, he was unaware of the fact, that there were four decks in the shoe.


The Lucky Touch

It was hard to tell how old she was because of the makeup and false eyelashes, and the extra hundred pounds or so she was carrying. She wore a tight mini skirt, black mesh hose, and high heels, that to be honest, for a woman her size, she walked extremely well in. Her abundant breasts were barely contained by the low cut, gold sequined tank top. I saw her eyeing the black chips in front of my player, and sure enough, they were enough of a bait to lure her to the table.

“Want some company?”, she asked coyly, taking the empty seat beside him. 

“I’m playing.” He didn’t look at her.

“I can bring you some luck.” She told him.

“Yeah, I see that.” He said, as I picked up his losing bet.

“Where you from?” He didn’t answer. She was going to have to work a little harder than that.

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun here.” She touched his arm. “I could make it more fun for you.” 

He kept his eyes forward, focusing on his betting spot. He was not interested. I looked over my shoulder and tried to get the floorperson’s attention, she was busy with another guest. Working girls are a part of Vegas. If their company is welcomed, then that’s one thing, but when it’s not, they just got to go!

I dealt a seven and a four to his three hundred dollar bet, I was showing a five. 

“Ooh baby!”, she squealed, “That’s a double down!”

Ignoring her, he placed three more black chips beside his bet. “Face down.” He instructed me. I turned over a six, and drew an eight to my eleven, nineteen to beat. I paused before turning over his card.

“Ooh! Ooh!” She stood up. “”You want to touch one for luck!” She pulled her gold tank top down rapidly, allowing huge tattooed breasts, with nipples the size of side plates, to spill onto the edge of the table.

“No thanks.” He answered calmly, and without taking his eyes from the cards. “I didn’t bring gloves!”



I never got a muffin!

I returned to my dice game from break, and asked my box lady;
“Did you have one of Bobbie’s Muffins? They were awesome!”
“There were muffins?” Tim asked from third base.
“No, I’m trying to be good.” Christa told me, ignoring Tim.
“There were muffins? I never got a muffin!” Tim looked sad.
“She offered me one, but I’m doing my kettle bell workout.” Christa informed me.
“I never got a muffin!” Tim was pouting.
“I got two!” I said, teasingly.
“So you ate MY muffin.” Tim admonished me.
“I never ate YOUR muffin.” I said in defiance. “I ATE HER MUFFIN!”
As soon as the last word left my lips, I realized what I had just said. I began to shake softly, tears welled up in my eyes, and I had to press my lips hard together, fighting hard to regain composure.
“So is a muffin the same thing here as it is in Texas?” A player to my left asked.
That was it! I could not see the dice through the tears in my eyes, could not call the numbers because I was laughing uncontrollably. The pit clerk ran over with tissues, thinking I was having an allergy attack!
BTW, Bobbie, the muffins were awesome!

For the benefit of the blind!

I was dealing roulette, in a Bahamas casino, to a New York retiree, now living in Miami. She had come over on one of the day cruises, sponsored by the casino. She had availed herself of the free one hundred dollars in slot play, the free lunch, and had decided to land on my game to wile away the hours, until the ship left at six pm. She had turned her meager buy in of one hundred dollars, to a hefty twenty-seven hundred. Every payout I pushed out to her was greeted with absolutely no response. My smiles went unnoticed, my charm unappreciated, for four hours!

Now I’m not saying that tipping a dealer is mandatory, but come on! If you went to Denny’s for an hour, had a pancake, and a cup of coffee, you’d leave a tip, wouldn’t you? It’s all about the service, right? I had listened to her gripe about the humidity in Florida, the service in the casino, (apparently the four or five cocktails she had been served, didn’t elicit a tip either) the lousy boat trip, and the impending bus ride back to the ship, all with a sympathetic ear, and a warm smile. For four hours! I gave up, I was stuck with her. “Just spin the ball”, I told myself.

One of her fellow Miamians took a seat at the table. He was a sweet little old man with a crooked back, and a wicked little smile. He bought in for twenty bucks. I gave him a stack of chips which he spread  across the layout haphazardly.  The ball dropped, number eight. I paid the Queen of Mean one hundred and five chips, for the three she had on the number, she didn’t even look at me. Then I paid the little old man thirty five, for his single chip. He threw me two bucks, with a wink.

I smiled at him, thanked him, and after changing them for cash chips, I bashed them as hard as I could on the wooden rim of the wheel.

“Dealers’s! I yelled. The Queen of Mean jumped.

“Why did you do that?”, she asked.

“It’s for the benefit of the blind madam.” I informed her casually. “Those who can’t see we accept tips, can bloody well hear it!”