Little Miss know F All

So, it’s my second shift as a Dice dealer, at Bally’s, 1991. I’m heading back to the Craps pit, when I’m stopped by a middle aged couple from the East Coast.

“Excuse me. Where’s the buffet?” He asked

“I believe it’s at the other side of the sports book.” I told him.

“You believe?” He sounded a little disappointed at my response.

“Is it open now?” she asked. He checked his watch.

“It should be.” I said, checking mine.

“It should be?” He looked at his wife, and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is only my second day here.” I shrugged apologetically. They had gone to great lengths to show us their state of the art smoke alarm system during orientation, (Bally’s was previously the MGM) but they had failed to educate us on the buffet opening times. I checked my watch again. I had to get back to my game.

“Are we keeping you?” he asked sarcastically. I ignored that.

“Do you know how much it is?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” I replied honestly.

“What the hell do you know?” He was quite aggressive.

“Apparently, not a lot.” I confessed. “But when you get there, why don’t you ask the bus boy what a thirty-five dollar Horn-Hi-Yo pays when the twelves hits!” I strode off, leaving them with puzzled looks on their faces.

I think my customer service skills have greatly improved  since then.


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