Casino: Cage Operations - The Backbone of a Casino - top.onlinetoprealmoneygames.xyz

Continuing...
“I say that you’re way the fuck out of line, Chuckles. Are you an educated, experienced, fully licensed and internationally renowned master blaster?” I asked.
“No, but…” he tried to continue.
“But nothing, Scooter.” I said, “What, other than your insane xenophobia and nationalism, causes you to come to such unfounded, not to say stupid, conclusions?”
He looked down at the deck. Evidently, he was not used to being challenged in such a manner. He realized he walked face-first into a metaphorical wood chipper.
“I’m waiting for your answer, pally.” I continued.
Still nothing. He was either deep in thought or ill at ease from newly soggy undergarments.
“Want to know why I chose what I did? Fine, meet back here in 15 damn minutes.”
He looks at me with a most perplexed, and ignorant, look on his face.
“Dax, Cliff? I need you.” I say.
We go back to the weapons locker and I explain my idea.
“Let’s load a case of typical, TYPICAL Chinese-made dynamite. Then let’s load a case of American C-4. Be very careful with that leaky Chinese shit. Wait one. I’ll do it if you want and you can handle the C-4.” I say.
“Ah, Rock; yeah. We’d appreciate it. You being the Pro from Dover, after all.” Cliff agrees.
“No worries”, I say, “I got this. You make me up a nice, tightly packed case of C-4. For demonstration purposes.”
I find a near-empty case of dynamite and begin to judiciously fill the thing with random samples of shitty and leaky Chinese manufactured and Korean not-too-well-cared-for dynamite.
This stuff was so incredibly shitty and poorly manufactured that even when leaking and nasty, it was nowhere near as dangerous as its Western counterpart. It was loaded with so much and many interstitials, like sawdust, diatomaceous earth, literal horseshit, and shredded newspaper, the nitro denatured itself to some degree as it oozed out.
Plus, in the non-climate controlled weapons locker; the high humidity, salt air, and poor circulation from the small open grate facing the sea, the nitro had desensitized somewhat and evaporated. It left only sticky, thin, fly-ridden films rather than the usual ‘waiting for a good reason to explode’ puddles.
It was in no way as twitchy as that locker back in Nevada. Oh, but be assured, it was still a shit show.
If I really wanted to, I could blow myself, this boat and all occupants into the next dimension rather easily, but it was nothing like that old locker back in that disused Nevada mine. I still needed to be scrupulously careful as there could potentially be puddles of the pale yellow, viscous liquid explody stuff, instead of the thin films I was mostly finding.
Either way, it required caution and judiciousness.
Nitro’s twitchy as fuck and the last thing I need is a dropped nail, blasting cap, or hunk of the rotten box falling into an errant nitro wet patch…
Extra attention was exercised.
Dax and Cliff are halfway through, and I’m still picking through the leaky, smelly bundles.
“Next time”, I mused to myself, “I‘m writing in a ‘Handling fucked-up explosives”-clause in my contract. No matter how much I’m being paid for this, it ain’t enough…”
We find a couple of expendable, dry-rotted ‘life preserver’ floaty-rings, upon which we secure both cases of explosives. They’re tethered with a rope and primed with a number of blasting caps.
I let the head local Korean crank examine both to ensure that I’m not trying to pull a fast one.
He did not notice the 3-pound bag of Tannerite (an impact-actuated explosive) I snuck in the middle of the box of Chinese TNT.
“Now. Satisfied that they’re equal?” I asked. “Nothing fishy here. Just dynamite in bundles, with caps. Then, over here, C-4 blocks with cap. OK?”
He was satisfied; but only after letting a couple of the shiny suit squad check as well.
“Well”, I smirked,” So much for your ‘covert observation’, asshole.” This guy was DPRK secret service or equivalent.
“Holy cold-pack cheese-food product fuck”, I cogitate, “They are so goddamned suspicious”.
I ask Dax to go over to the pilothouse and borrow the mauled AK-47 I saw hanging on the bulkhead there. They keep it for run-ins with cranky sharks, walruses, and lovesick blue-footed boobies evidently.
“OK, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll float each out, and I‘ll trail with demolition wire. Once we’re a few hundred meters out, you can press the big, shiny, green button and detonate your dynamite. I even used 6 blasting caps, to give each bundle its own. You saw that. We green?” I ask.
He was, although suspicious of what I had in mind. He agreed although he refused to use my terminology, the stodgy prick.
So float away the dynamite case we did.
The case of Chinese dynamite floated out and away from the boat, leaving an oily slick in its wake. As it got to around 200-225 meters or so, I requested a rendition of the Korean version of the Safety Dance, as it was just too fucking hilarious to watch.
Once completed, I handed Doubting Korean Thomas the detonator.
“Your turn, Tweedles”, I said, “Hit the button to spark off your “much-better-than-the-West’s” Oriental dynamite.”
He grabbed the detonator, gnashed a tooth in my direction, and mashed down on the big, shiny, green button with a vengeance.
PFftt! PAH-foof! fuff
There was a cheery little pop, a puff of acrid smoke, and not much else.
Let it be said from the onset that I just selected examples of the Oriental manufactured dynamite at random. I didn’t look for the worst or leakiest. Though truthfully I really didn’t have much too choice in the matter.
“You! You swindled me! You knew the dynamite wouldn’t explode! Somehow you knew it!!” he swore in my general direction.
“Try it again”, I said after retrieving the detonator and doing a quick re-wire to another bank of blasting caps.
“Gumeong-e bul!” [“Fire in the hole!”].
MASH goes the big, shiny, green button anew.
Pfffft!” *Pop. Poooof! Piffle. Blerp.
Nothing but a cute little pop, a poof, and a few acrid puffs of smoke.
He was crestfallen.
He had taken on the Motherfucking Pro from Dover in a necessarily explosive subject, with inevitably disastrous results.
I asked if anyone here was weapons trained. A couple of Coasties raised their hands.
“And you are? “ I asked the closest one.
“Lt. P'an Tae-Hyun, Sir”, as he snaps a snappy salute.
“Groovy.”, I reply and retrieve the AK from Dax.
“Can you squeeze off a couple of shots and hit that floating box of dynamite?” I asked.
“Yes, sir!” he replied, smiling.
“OK then”, I replied and turned to the crowd.
“Dynamite is usually pretty stable stuff and won’t detonate without a blasting cap or impulse source. A bullet will most certainly not detonate it. However, I’ve stuck in 3 pounds, imperial, of Tannerite, which is a type of binary explosive used for targeting. Tannerite will most definitely and energetically explode when impacted by a high-velocity bullet. I think we can agree that an AK-47 round is high-velocity?” I asked.
There were nods and a buzz of general agreement.
“Now, there’s the better part of a case of unexploded dynamite out there. That’s what we in the business call very, very fucking dangerous. Now those three pounds of Tannerite should vaporize everything within a 10-meter radius if it detonates as designed. Agreed?” I asked.
Again, there were nods and a buzz of general agreement.
“Lieutenant P'an?” I asked, “At your discretion. Fire at will. Or the dynamite case, as it were.”
He nodded. He walked over to the furthest point on the stern, checked to see everyone was back and out of harm’s way, as he was a consummate professional. He futzed around with the old AK for a bit and took a shot.
It was low and outside.
“Ball one”, I snickered.
“Sights are off. Not any problems.” He remarked.
The next round found its mark. The Tannerite exploded adeptly.
It threw sticks of unexploded Chinese dynamite over a 20-meter radius. They each sank into the briny deep leaving only an oily spot to mark their entry and eventual watery grave.
The top of the case of dynamite was blown off, but the floaty ring remained. We reeled it back in to find a few more scorched, but unexploded, sticks of fine Oriental manufacture explosive on the bottom of the case.
These were motherfuckingly dangerous. Cantankerous dynamite has no place on a ship.
I remarked, however, that this would be no problem. Dax and Cliff brought up the case of C-4, which I had wired with one single blasting cap and booster.
We had Korean Doubting Thomas and his shiny suit buddies give it the once over to ensure I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one.
He agreed, it was nothing but C-4 as advertised.
One of the more expendable Coasties jumped down on the stern transom-rack which is just above the waterline on the back of the boat. He wired the two rings together and set them adrift, tethered by a good nylon rope with my nasty, silky demolition wires trailing.
Dax was working the rope and I was handling the spool of demolition wire. I had a good 350 meters of the stuff on the spool and wasn’t about to return a single centimeter.
Old habits and all.
As they floated away, Mr. Kwan asked if we’d like a bit of refreshment, as, gosh, it sure was dusty out here today.
Of course, we agreed in unison.
Good old Mr. Kwan.
So, we’re unspooling our lines slowly, drinking our end of the day refreshers, smoking cigars, and watching our Oriental colleagues getting antsier every minute.
I knew what a case of C-4 was going to do when detonated. It would be one hell of a show.
I was so confident with my design I had Lt. P’ay return the AK to the pilothouse. Wouldn’t work here anyways if the C-4 failed to detonate.
But that’s not going to happen.
Dr. Pro from Dover Rocknocker has spoken.
Finally, I’m almost out of demolition wire, and Dax has tied off the tether.
I motion over to Herr Doubting Thomas and hand him the detonator.
“For ye of little faith”, I smiled, recalling the entreaty that even Satan quotes the Bible for his own nefarious uses.
But first, an encore of the Korean Safety Dance. They're guaranteed to raise a smile.
I look to the character fumbling with the detonator.
“At your convenience, good sir”, I say, dripping insincerity.
“Gumeong-e bul!” [“Fire in the hole!”]. Mash goes the big, shiny, green button.
KA-MOTHERING-FUCKINGLY-HUGE-BOOM!
Even over 300 meters away, every one of us not only saw but felt that shock wave. It was like a solid Savate kick to the chest. The boat even rocked a bit in appreciation.
I smile, retrieved the detonator, safe it, and reply: “And that is the singular reason why I used good old American manufacture C-4 as a sonic seismic source rather than shitty, leaky Oriental dynamite. Any further questions?”
He shook his head in agreement, bowed slightly in my direction, slunk away, and that was the very last we ever saw of Mr. Korean Doubting Thomas.
The Captain saw and felt the detonation. He put the boat in park, actually, he handed it over to the sub-pilot for station keeping and came back to the fantail.
He wanted to know if we were now officially finished with our project.
We maintained that we were and it had come off very, very successfully; in no small degree because of his boat handling abilities.
He came over to me and shanghaied one of the translators.
“Doctor Stone?” he asked.
“Hrmph. Close enough.” I smiled.
“May I be first to congratulate your team. In eight sorties, you and your teams are the first to fulfill mission parameters. I am pleased to say that this will go on all our permanent records. It will mean bonuses for all present. I salute you.” And does with a naval flourish.
“No shit? Well, thanks, Cap”, I reply, “But I’m just the den mother for this special education class. Without them, and all their hard work, it’d never have happened.”
“I knew you would say this”, he smiled, “You are leader of men. We see that. You are teacher, but also not afraid to work. You should do this more often. Use your education and experience to train and teach others.” He says, shaking my hand.
Now it’s time for me to wonder. Did he hear of my offer back home? I don’t think he did, I’ve been playing those cards very close to the vest, as it were. I am now officially confused and bebothered.
But, since I don’t believe in anything, much less coincidence, I’m going to chalk it up to happenstance and just gratefully consider the source.
He asks that we wait here and he’ll return forthwith.
“On a boat this size, there are not too many places we can sneak off to…” I chuckle.
He returns with a very, very old bottle of something quite unidentifiable since it appears to be lacking a label. He yells something in official Korean and suddenly, a tray with little, itty-bitty demitasse-style glasses appear along with some smoked fish, I think, nibbles of some kind.
He pours a dram for all present. No one dares take as much as a preemptory sniff until he’s finished with the ceremony.
Everyone thusly charged, he begins a toast.
“Shoo-buddy”, I think, “I’ve been down this road before.”
It was quick, succinct, brief, and laudatory.
According to him, we had ‘hung the moon’.
I liked this style of toasting. Left more time to drink and for camaraderie.
The project thus finished, as we were running out of potables, especially freshwater, victuals, and toilet paper; we were headed back to base. That is, back to the hotel to see what our comrades who chose to stay onshore had developed.
But, that was going to be for another day. First, we needed to chug our way back to port, both literally and figuratively.
Ahem.
Before which, though, there were some housekeeping and paperwork chores. Dax, Cliff, and I did a quick reconnaissance of the explosives locker and created a ‘used’ manifest; which all three of us signed.
They may be officious, they may be obtrusive, but damn, they certainly love their goddamned paperwork over here.
We gave copies to the head shiny suit, one for the Captain, and we retained copies for our records. Along with notes that we expended two rounds from the pilothouse AK, as we were trying to out-officious these officious paper-pushers.
We made certain the keys were returned and logged in the proper logbooks and the explosives locker was locked securely, solidly, and soundly. Before which, we policed up the weapons locker and actually offered to the gods of the briny deep, quite the quantity of unsafe, leaky dynamite, and other ordinance that was more a disaster waiting to happen rather than inventory.
Seawater would neutralize the nasties and in the case of anything metallic, it’d be gone within a fortnight. and the phosphates might provide some nice fertilizer for some lucky passing Cnidarians. We were in water of near 45 fathoms. This stuff would never hurt another living thing.
The Captain was very pleased that we had taken that task upon ourselves. He wasn’t allowed to do anything about what was in the locker, but he was responsible for it and keeping the wrong people out of it. I commented that was a fairly stupid way of handling things, and he mentioned that he’d appreciate it if I made an official note of it to the powers that be once we go feet-dry, i.e., get back to shore.
I assured him we most certainly would.
From then on, all we had to do was putt-putt our way back to port.
It was going to take some hours and we’d end up berthing during the wee hours. This would not be a problem as our bus and driver would be waiting for us no matter what the time. He would briskly and without fanfare, return us to our hotel.
That we were actually looking forward to bunking back in the old hotel sort of gave one an idea of the Spartan arrangements we had endured for the last three days.
Most of the Westerners groused and complained in a humorous manner. Hell, it was only three bloody days. Some of our Oriental friends were so totally aghast they vowed to lodge formal complaints once they returned to dry land.
Landlubbers.
Odd that once we hit the beach, they all scattered to the four winds and not a single letter nor either a peep of protest was ever forthcoming.
Yes, this is an intensely weird place.
We wandered down the gangplank, cigars a-fume, and drinks recently and for one last time, refreshed by Mr. Kwan. The shiny suit squad was supervising the offloaded of the seismic data we had collected and had seen it soundly sealed and concealed in the very living bowels of the bus. It was to return with us to the hotel, where we’d demand a receipt. Then it would be off to the ‘Technological Center” on Scientific Street for processing.
They assured us that they’d handle that themselves. Evidently we were good enough to acquire the data, but not good enough to see the finished product.
Ack, Volna, and Ivan chuckled.
“OK, you pirates. What did you do?” I asked
“They can try with all their might. But without the decryption key, they’ll spend years processing encoded compressed nonsense.” They snickered. “We did offer to come and help set up the decryption for the decompression of the raw data, but they said they could handle it themselves. Oh, well. We tried. Seriously, we did.” Ack and Volna snickered.
“Well, keep it handy in case they come to their senses before we get out of here,” I said.
“Always our intention, Herr Denmother”, Volna chuckles.
“Oh, you heard that?” I snickered quietly.
Back at the hotel, the majority of us sent our sea-gear to our rooms via the on-site laundry. That being settled, the majority of us retired to the catacombs of the basement.
We needed strong drink, decent, non-tinned food, and seats that didn’t slop around every time you sat down.
Well, with the acquisition of our sea legs, two out of three wasn’t bad.
Since the hour was much too late, I decide that tomorrow, well, later today, would be a day of R&R for everyone.
Moreover, I was informed that tomorrow would be the “Day of the Sun” celebration, the insanely earnest celebration birth anniversary of Kim Il-sung, founder and Eternal President of North Korea. It’s supposed to be some sort of big, hairy nationwide deal. But aside from a couple of small posters, we heard little and knew less about the holiday and its celebration.
Everyone’s being even more uncharacteristically low key. It’s odd like there’s something weird going on here.
“What? Something weird and covert and sneaky going on in Best Korea? Pshaw, you old fart. You’re letting the paranoids get to you!”, I mused to myself.
This place will do that to you after a while.
I asked the front desk to place a note that made the rest of today a day of R&R in everyone’s mailbox. After another cigar, some decent prawn stir-fry, and a couple-twelve really stiff drinks, we were all ready to invade the land of Nod for a few hours.
I went downstairs for a drink, a nosh, and a smoke. I ran out of NK won as we tend to use them in Western Expat high-stakes poker games, so I needed to trade some of my weird Middle Eastern currency for weird Best Korea currency.
I was used to the 900:1 won:US dollar (equivalent) trade-off, but after cashing in the equivalent of US$500 in Middle Eastern dinero, I walked off with 650,000 won, not 450,000.
“Pardon me, Ms. Cashier”, I said to the nice little local woman behind the bird-cage security wires, “I do think you gave me too much.”
She took my stack, re-counted it, and proclaimed it correct.
“I thought the exchange rate was 900 to the dollar?” I asked.
“No”, she remarked, “Now 1,336.”
“Any idea what’s causing the fluctuations?” I asked.
She just smiled and shook her head ‘no’. I smiled back and tipped her 50 UAE dirhams for the information.
“Weird. Now what?” I mused.
Little did I know…
The next morning dawned dim and early as there some sort of something going on outside.
Oh, yes, it was ‘The Day of the Sun’ celebration. I discovered it was is an annual public holiday in North Korea celebrating the birth anniversary of Kim Il-sung, founder, and Eternal President and local Poobah-in-Charge of North Korea. It is the most important national holiday in the country, and is considered to be the North Korean pseudo-secular equivalent of Christmas.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “I picked a damn good day to call for an R&R break.”
Then I found out, why no one told us about any of this is still unknown, that the next two days after the holiday would also be considered a holiday.
Come to find out, there are all sorts of intrusive, inconvenient, and wholly unnecessary nonsense that accompany these high holy days here in Best Korea. There are exhibitions, fireworks, song and dance events, athletics competitions, idea seminars: “Think about it!”, and visits to places connected with Kim Il-sung's life, including his birthplace in Mangyongdae.
Shops close, the hotel televisions block any other ‘programming’ and show only ‘special’ movies. Either ridiculously fake documentaries on the life of the also ever so ronrey Kim Il-sung or movies he especially enjoyed. People parade to his statue on Mansu Hill to deposit flowers; later in the day, it resembled a pollinated glacier.
There’s general obviously forced elation, all of which is extraordinarily strained and appears fake. People are trucked by the groaning busload to the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun where the dead maniac lies in state.
“Fuck this”, I said in the exact spirit of international amity, “I’m going to the bar.”
I go downstairs to the basement bar, and even though it’s a high holy day, it’s open early. It didn’t used to be open until the afternoon, but since we’ve arrived, they have adjusted their hours for us.
They have also doubled their daily receipts. So they’ve got that going for them, which is nice.
One of my favorite barkeeps was station keeping that morning. I greeted him in the usual style and expressed to Mr. Ho Gun the best holiday wishes.
“Hi! Ho!”, I said, “Annyeonghaseyo”, which comes out ‘Annie young eez-yo!’ in my Baja Canuckian dialect.
Mr. Ho laughs at my attempt at Korean, but he does appreciate the effort.
“Doctor Rock”, he says, “Dawn greetings. You will drink what?”
Nice and direct, I like that.
“Ye’ ken Greenland Coffee, me ol’ mucker?” I asked in a swirl of different dizzying dialects.
Koran confounds me, so I thought I’d return the favor.
“No, but I’m sure it’s coffee with some of your usual high-proof liquors, correct?” he smiles as I hand him a nice, oily Oscuro cigar.
“For Best Most Happy Returns: Day of the Sun”, I said, waggling the stogie, as I hand it over.
“However, you are correct. Normally, ‘authentic’ Greenland Coffee is a paltry 1/3rd ounce each of Whiskey, Kahlua, and Grand Marnier with excess coffee. Well, I don’t cotton to those liquors or measures. So my Greenland Coffee recipe, really from Greenland, by the way, is Siku Vodka, or any other high-octane vodka, as long as it’s premium. Then Immiak, which is Greenland’s version of Jagermeister, so let’s just go with Jager. Then finish it off with a shot of Tia Maria or Kahlua, if available. Oh, yes, then hot coffee. Silly me, almost forgot…” I conclude.
“And measures?” Mr. Ho asked.
“Whatever fills the cup”, I replied, in a bastardization of an old Russian toast.
“OK, how about a 35 mils (~1 ounce) stiff shot each booze, then hot coffee to fill your mug? With a chilled vodka chaser, as per usual?” He asks.
“Make it so, Mr. Ho,” I say. “No whipped cream or crème liqueurs, please. I’m lactose intolerant, and, well, no one wants to hear that…”
He laughs and whips together a very nice morning sunriser.
It’s a real day off.
In a very, very weird land.
It’s Festival outside and I stayed up most of the night calling people back in the world, creating and updating dossiers, doing explosives-tracking paperwork, worrying over logistics, and how and when the fuck we’re going to eventually get out of here.
Fuck it, double front. I’m doing my ‘people watch’, perched high on Mahogany Ridge. I’m taking, for the first time since, hell, I left the Middle East, some real downtime.
I figured I deserved it.
I was the only one at the bar, but after a short time, there were festival-goers who infiltrated down into the hotel's subterranean catacombs. They didn’t know of the bar’s recently expanded hours and when they saw me sitting high up on Mahogany Ridge, smoking my ubiquitous cigar, they rejoiced.
Obligatory Festival and alcohol! Better than beer and power tools.
In the Baja Canada time-honored tradition, I have a pile of the local currency sitting on the bar. At the new exchange rate of 1,386 won to the dollar, I’m making out like a bandit.
Drinks here are cheap, really cheap, to begin with. With this fluctuation in exchange rates, which I figured reflected the holiday, I was flush. In the chips. Well-heeled. I've got a lot of what it takes to get along.
So, I was feeling magnanimous. I was tipping people very well.
“Paper?” one local asked.
“Sure. How much for a week-old English version of the Daily Worker’s Manifest and Pork Belly Futures Digest? 100 won? Here’s 1,000. Keep the change.”
Not wanting to become over-caffeinated, I switched from Greenland Coffees after a couple to my usual potato juice and citrus concoction. Each one came in a tall, frosted gimlet glass, a very nice touch, and was expertly made my Mr. Ho after I showed him once when we first arrived.
Each one, with the current exchange rate, was about 500 won; an exorbitant sum for any local. It was about US$0.40 for me. I bought several for people who bellied up to the bar and tried to engage me in conversation.
I was used to handing out business cards, hell, one never knew where contacts could lead; and not receiving one in return.
Today, I collected four new business cards; two from various European ex-pats, and two from locals.
I guess Festival! time brings out the best and least paranoid in people.
It’s only 1000 hours in the AM and people here are already seriously lubricated.
This will be a fun few days.
I decided to get a rather tall drink in one of my 100-ounce Kum-n-Go travel cups. With all the hoo-ha going on around here, I haven’t seen a handler, translator, or guide since we got off the boat. I decide with all the shenanigans and goings-on around the place on this festival day, no one would give me nor my wardrobe a second look if I were to venture outdoors for a walkabout.
Besides, we’re on a bloody island. It’s not like I can go too damned far.
So, quicker than a bunny fucks, I get my drink, fire up a cigar, and walk around the lobby of the hotel. There are the usual comings and goings of tourists, local workers, the security forces, and all that allied tat.
I wait until a tour bus pulls up and all eyes are somewhere besides me.
Pfft! And I’m standing outside the hotel, looking at all the sights.
Which, truth be told, weren’t much.
Yanggak Island is a slovenly-manicured island with shrubberies, tracks, trails, and assorted support buildings. The river is basically hidden behind stunted shrubs and nevergreens, and the remains of the defunct golf course. There’s a stadium on the island, which was thronging with festival-goers today. I don’t know what sport, if any, they play there, and didn’t care enough to ask anyone.
There was a cinema hall, which was currently empty and looking in need of some dire repair. There’s some sort of Chinese health complex in the process of being built or torn down, it was hard to tell which. Needless to say, the scenery paled almost immediately.
I did, after a concerted effort, find a small platform that overlooked the Taedong River. It was a very nice little observation platform with a couple of new-Tudor-esque electrical replica gas lights and two concrete benches where a weary traveler could sit and just watch the river.
So I did.
I was interested in the fish of the river, and wondered if any of the locals did any fishing; or if it was forbidden, as are so many ‘proletariat’ activities are in town.
I did see a few locals, huddled out of plain sight, down by the shores of the river fishing with long, 10 meter, reel-less poles. In Britain, they would call this type of fishing ‘noodling’.
I didn’t see them catch anything, but in the bar later, I spoke with a local who told me that they catch various species of fish here. These include Asian Aroana, Blue Guppy, Catfish, Crab, Eel, Halibut, Hucho Perryi, Octopus, Orange Guppy, Pacific Flying Squid, Rainbow Trout, Salmon, and Tuna.
I’m not saying my informant was lying or embroidering the tale, but from the nasty condition of the river, I think Coney Island Whitefish, Cotton River Horse, Dumpster Trout, and Bugle-Mouthed Salmon would be the more common species.
I had enough perambulation and even though I wasn’t given the least look, I felt a bit uncomfortable out here. That unfiltered sun and equally unfiltered air. After that, I wandered back to the hotel and went to enter to go to my room.
“HALT! Who goes there?” some door guard yelled at me.
“An American tourista who was out on a walk”, I replied.
“Impossible!”, he replied, “Tourists are not allowed out without their guides.”
“Look, Herr Mac”, I said, “I’m Dr. Rocknocker, and I am an invited Western Petroleum Scientist with the UN special-invited group here to evaluate the country’s oil and gas potential.”
“You are not allowed.” He replied loudly.
“My good man”, I replied, equally loudly, "Not allowed? Not allowed? I’m a geologist, I’m allowed everywhere.”
With that, I grab the handle of the ornate door, take a slurp out of my drink, and sally forth into the hotel.
Of course, he goes non-linear. He follows me and is making all sorts of bad noise. He is almost literally dancing around me, pointing, and exclaiming that I’m not allowed.
Then, he made a bit of a mistake.
He grabbed my arm.
Really, really poor career move.
I switched my drink to my left hand and executed a pretty spiffy opposite-side wrist grab on the noisy little nerf herder.
He was so shocked by this turn of events, he went slightly white and was rendered mute for a short time.
I frog marched the little irritant up to the front desk and asked the head clerk there to explain to my captive audience who I was and why I was here.
The clerk smiled and gave the character whom I was dragging around a quick background on the guy who was currently holding him captive. When I heard “닥터 락 노커” [dagteo lag nokeo, “Dr. Rocknocker”], I dropped this guy’s hand and just took a few steps back.
After a minute or two, he comes over, very, very abashed. He apologizes as he wasn’t told that any Americans were allowed outside the hotel.
I told him ‘No problem’, as I really didn’t have any special permission and didn’t want to get the guy into any trouble. I offered him a cigar, which he refused, but he readily accepted the half-pack of Sobranie pastel cigarettes I had in the pocket of my Hawaiian shirt.
I decided from that point to just stay inside the hotel to smoke, drink, and avoid any further Imperial entanglements.
I wandered on down to the casino because I was bored and it was unusually quiet. Too hepped-up to sleep, too tired to work, it was that odd interarea between “should I be giving a fuck” and “who the fuck cares?”
Leaving the basement, I wandered around the ground floor, just taking in the sights, and looking at the “Festival Specials” at the hotel shops.
I found an empty, unlocked conference room that looked inviting. About two dozen chairs, a large wooden table, TV monitors, and a southern view of the city from slightly above ground level.
I walked in like I owned the place, as it is always monumentally easier to get forgiveness than permission, sat down at the head of the table, propped my feet up, found an ashtray, and began playing with the remote to see what was available.
Evidently, these rooms were available for rent by various factions, cadres, and other sorts of like-minded individuals. However, whoever was here last forgot to re-set the filters on the satellite television.
There was real the BBC, real-time. There was German TV, Russian TV, Japanese TV, and even some American TV; all the best of the absolutely prohibited hit parade.
I shut it down and left immediately. I went to find my comrades. They simply had to see this.
I located Dax first, as he was losing won at a rapid rate down at the basement casino. He said he’d spread the word to any of the team members down in the tunnels and we’d meet at Conference Room #1.
I had taken the precaution before leaving to move the “Occupied/Unoccupied” placard to indicate it was in use and that if you hadn’t reserved the room, you’d do best to stay the fuck out.
I waited the obligatory 20 minutes for the elevator and went up to ‘our’ floor.
I knocked on all the doors where I knew they were occupied by our occupants. I found a few of our team and informed them that if they were so inclined, there would be an unannounced, impromptu, and wholly illicit meeting down in Conference room number 1; complete with refreshments and real, uncensored television. They all agreed and said they’d rouse the rest of our team on the floor.
I was feeling so brazen, that when I went down to the ground floor, I stopped at the front desk and ordered lunch and drinks for my team in Conference Room #1.
“Oh, sir”, the desk clerk responded, “We don’t have any reservations today for Conference Room #1.”
“Well”, I replied, “We are in there and if it wasn’t reserved, how would that have happened? The room would have been marked as unavailable, which it clearly was not; as it was open and available and we are now occupying it. Therefore, it wasn’t marked unavailable so it must have been available; not unavailable as you postulate. It’s almost a simple example of the single equation theory of universal containment. So we are meeting there now and requiring refreshments. It’s simply a logical progression of the facts of the matter.”
“You are, of course, correct”, she immediately responded, distracted by all the Festival goings-on in the hotel, “Now, you said you’d like to order 4 dozen assorted meat and cheese sandwiches, two cases of beer, and a mixed case of bottled liquor?”
“Yes”, I replied, “You see, it’s only going to be a brief meeting. I’ll also need ice, carbonated and non-carbonated mixers, sliced citrus fruit, and an on-call bartender if you have one available.”
“Oh, yes sir,”, she replied, “That will be immediately arranged. Anything else?”
“Yes”, I replied, “I’ll need about a dozen ashtrays, of the larger variety. Also, I am going to leave explicit instructions with you to disseminate to hotel staff that we are not to be disturbed. This is a very high-level meeting of the scientists of the IUPG. We will be discussing, umm, ‘sensitive information’”.
I used the international ‘don’t-even-think-of-bothering-us’ buzzword to let her know were being very serious indeed.
“Oh, yes sir”, she stiffened.
“Marvelous”, I said and slipped her 1000 won for her troubles. All sighs of nervousness instantly disappeared.
“Excellent. Excellent service.”, I said, rubbing both hands together most Mr. Burnsly.
I go over to the conference room and see that our order has begun to already arrive. Have to hand it to them, you call for room service and you get room service. Especially if you’re well known around the hotel to be free with imported cigars, pastel cigarettes, and lavish tips.
One by one, my teammates filtered in. There was everyone from out earlier pleasure cruise, and most of the force that remained back in the hotel to prepare the paperwork for our ground assault.
Cigars, cigarettes, and pipes were lit. Sandwiches consumed and drinks were downed. After everyone had a chance to see their home-town, or at least home-county, version of the news, I decided that it would indeed be a good time to have a bit of a meeting. It was going nuts outside with the Festival, and as long as we were in here, we were being left alone.
After the obligatory facilities break, I returned from a 40-minute round trip to my room to get a couple of my field notebooks. I wanted a record of the proceedings, no matter how spur-of-the-moment.
When I returned, I thought the room looked a bit spare. I did a quick headcount and I noted we were missing someone. I glanced through my notes and saw that our Bulgarian geomechanic, Dr. Iskren Dragomirov Dinev, or ‘Iskren’ was not present.
“Hey, guys”, I asked aloud, “Anyone seen Iskren lately?”
There was a brief conclave and the answer was a solid negative.
I called the front desk and got his room number. I asked them to ring his room for me. His room phone rang and rang and rang, but no answer.
“Who last saw Iskren?” I asked the assembled crew.
The Finnish PT, Joon, recalls drinking with him at the casino the night before last. He seemed normally jovial as was normal for him.
“Anyone else? Or since?” I asked.
Again, the answer was negative.
“Something’s not right”, I thought, my rock sense was tingling. “Dax, Cliff, you’re with me.”
We all left, stopped by the front desk, and asked for medical assistance. We explained where we were going and the sudden absence of our Bulgarian friend. We expressed deep concern.
25 minutes later, Dax, Cliff, me, the hotel security chief, and hotel doctor were standing outside Iskren’s room. We had pounded on the door for a good 3 minutes. He certainly wasn’t in the shower.
No answer.
“Fuck this. Open it”, I said.
“Under whose authority?” the chief of hotel security asked.
“Mine. Dr. Rocknocker. I’m the team leader of the IUPG crew. Do it.” I said.
The door was laboriously opened, as both door bolt locks had to be breached. The room was dark, silent, and entirely unnerving. In the gloom, it appeared that there was a human form, unmoving, on the bed.
“I’m a rock Doctor. I think we need a medical doctor here.” I said to the hotel sawbones.
The hotel doctor went in without switching on the lights nor touching anything. He examined the mound on the bed. Apparently, it wasn’t a pile of dirty laundry.
“Was the occupant of this room a large Caucasian male, approximately 60-65 years of age?” He asked.
“Yes”, we all answered together.
“I’m afraid he’s dead.” The doctor replied.
Dax looked at Cliff who looked at me. In unison, all that was heard was a tripartite:
“Oh…fuck.”
To be continued...

Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms OR Fluffy's Birthday Party

Saturday, December 18th
I wake up and my back is fucking killing me. Megan closed the spa last night and she's quitting her (shitty) second job and her last day is Saturday so she's gone in early to get everything wrapped up and her exit interview. I decide to clean up my garage a bit and get some work done around the house. The morning starts off with some eggs and breakfast sausage with a tall glass of simply grapefruit. Life isn't great, but it could be a lot worse.
We are all having a little chat about life, weekends and women as I move charcoal and my dads tools around the garage when suddenly my good buddeh u/fluffy_butternut tells everyone that regular women are not damaged enough for me to enjoy. Not only is this HIGHLY insulting to me, but it reflects poorly on Megan as well.
rewind to several months before
Mrs. Fluffy emailed the whole reddit gang and told us we are invited to a surprise birthday party for the big guy. She gave us instructions/time/place, etc and everything. She did a TON of work to plan this and it shows. I was under the gun at the courthouse with a trial and I wasn't able to commit to the event and all of us have stuff going on so the odds of anyone being able to make it were not good. However, I kept her email, and her cell number on a burner.
cut to present
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyLdtG7KZvw
Did he really go there? He really went there. It's fucking on like Donkey Kong. I pull out a burner and send a message to Mrs. Fluffy asking her if the plans are still the same. She tells me when he will be arriving at the venue and I tell her I'm gonna make a big fucking scene. She is ecstatic at this idea.
I grab my packed bag from the closet and jump in the F350. I grab two organic bean to bar 88% endangered species chocolate bars for Megan and I stop by her work. She's busy, so I leave the chocolate for her at her station. I give her co-worker a note to hand to her when she gets out.
"Dear Megan, out for revenge. Back tomorrow - Will."
I start driving to MSY and traffic down I-10 isn't bad for a saturday. I phone Delta on the way there and book tickets for the flight. The only thing available is MD88 service connecting in Laguardia. In First. Being no stranger to the slightly elevated service and highly elevated price business model, I book the flight. I'm a little early so I make my way to the nearly brand new Delta Sky Club at MSY. It's new, the gumbo is tasty, the wifi is fast. Life isn't bad. Until I get the phone call from Megan.
Me: Hi sweetie
Megan: what the fuck does "out for revenge mean?"
Me: It means I'm out for revenge. I gotta do some things.
Megan: What things? We're supposed to have dinner with my brother tomorrow night!
Me: Uh. It's a long story. How was your exit interview?
Megan: It was fine. I'm leaving early today.
Me: Did you go back to your station yet?
Megan: No
Me: You should stop there again before you leave.
Megan: Why?
The airport PA screeches boarding announcement for my flight.
Me: They're calling my flight. I gotta run.
Megan: Flight? What?
Me: Gotta hop. Buy potatoes. See you tomorrow night!
I hang up and hightail it for the gate. I pop in and see the pilots before we leave and ask them what are the odds we get 31 via the expressway today. He says he was just loading it into the box. I tell him the last time I did 31 via the expressway into LGA at the Delta Museum sim, it was not good. In fact it was the worst thing to hit new york since a bunch of muslims on a tuesday in September. He laughs.
The ride into LGA is smooth as the HMG STG delivery schedule. New York is WINDY as fuck today and bumpy. I peer out the window of the left side of the plane and I get a beautiful close up photo of the statue of liberty and Ellis island. Wait. We're supposed to get 31 via the expressway. We should be on the localizer for LGA runway 4. That puts us right over my aunts place in Bay Ridge looking at the Verazanno. We're not getting 31, they're probably going to take us up over central park, back over da bronx and then in via 22.
Sure enough, we land on 22 and I ask the pilots what happened and they said the winds shifted and they had to turn the airport around. Eh, no biggie. I've seen it once, I'll see it again. It's a great approach to fly and if you ever get to experience it, it's fucking magical.
We land at LGA a few minutes late and the weather is cold, crisp and windy. I have a short connection but I head to the LGA sky club in terminal D. Life is good. I crack the laptop and do some work and as I close the laptop as they call my flight I see the very beginnings of light snow. I'm from Louisiana. I've never seen snow before. This scares me. I walk to the gate and I board in group 1 and take my first class seat. The plane is half empty. I walk up and chat with the pilots and they tell me that with the snow we are going to deice with type 1 fluid and anti ice with type 4 fluid. We will be a little delayed. As I gaze out the window from my seat, it's snowing and blowing even more.
Ten minutes later, the boarding door closes and we start to push back. Conditions have worsened significantly. We can't see the next plane in front of us, things have turned into not quite whiteout but very concerning to this southern boy. The pilots tell us we are number 3 for the deicing truck and I gaze out onto the runway.
It's whiter than an Ohio MAGA rally.
Fuck me to tears.
We deice as I check the weather in Pittsburgh. Rain/Freezing rain/Snow/wintry mix. I've never driven in snow. Fuck. Pucker factor increasing. I pull out my burner and send a message to Mrs. Fluffy and tell her I'm at the deice pad and will be there soon. We have a bumpy ride all the way across Pennsylvania and land about 30 minutes late. Hertz has me in the presidents circle but there is not a single car with local plates.
I downgrade to a 2020 white Toyota Corolla since it's the only thing with PA plates on it and I hightail it to the venue. I talk to the waitstaff and tell them I'm crashing the party and ask them to get me a tray and a vest with a nametag. The staff is laughing their ass off at my idea. I message Mrs. Fluffy and she thinks the idea is HYSTERICAL. She can't wait. I tell her I'll be there at 645.
T minus 60 minutes until Fluffy Arrival
I've never been to this part of Pennsylvania. To be honest, I am a Philly guy. The people there are angry, drunken, profane and love cheese steaks. They're my kind of people. I've never been to a Sheetz or Primanti Brothers. However, fluffy tells me some stories about how he and his wife have a good time over at the meadows. I have NEVER been to a racino before, and ever since I was nearly arrested at Wynn Las Vegas - I've been a little scared. However, it's just down the road and as some of you know, I just came into a shit ton of money.
This is not going to end well.
I drive down interstate 79 and whip into the north parking garage at The Meadows.
My pre-packed bag has four days of clothes, underwear, socks and PJ's, two kruggerands and $10,000 in cash just in case i need to flee the country. I pull out the ten dimes and make my way into the racino. The Meadows is HUGE. I get past the security checkpoint and walk around and I don't see any table games. I see a large well appointed poker room and see two craps tables working at the other end of the hall. I have no idea what table limits or odds are.
I saunter up to the table.
Me: How's the temperature guys?
Degen1: Eh it's up and down.
Me: As long as it's not as cold as outside amirte?
Degen2: haha yeah yinz been outside today? freezing rain and that!
Me: I don't know these words but whatever.
The point is on 6.
I drop $10,000 on the table.
Me: Change only. Gimme 1 small and 9 thousands.
Pit Boss: do you have a players club card?
Me: never played here before, don't worry about it for now.
Pit Boss: Okay!
The dice come out, it hits jimmy hicks and the dealers pay out all the bets. I look at the table, the minimums are $5 and everyone has pass line and numbers. NOBODY has true odds. Fuck it. Time to show them how it's done.
I drop $10 on the pass line.
Dice are out. Point is four. I look up and down the table and nobody is making odds bets. I look down at my rack and drop $100 behind my bet.
Dice come out. Six hard.
Me: Hey pit boss! How much can I put behind the line?
Pit Boss: We'll let you go to 10x, so we can take $100 on your pass line. It looks like you got $100 there but we'd count it out and if you were over we'll give you the extra back.
Me: solid, thanks!
I look down at my watch. Fluffy is due to arrive at 1900hrs. I told Mrs. I would be there at 1845. It's 15 minutes to drive from the garage to the party which means I need to be on the highway at 1830 which means I need to be out of the casino and cashed out and walking to the garage by 1825. She sends me a message asking me where I'm at. I tell her I'm at the meadows and.....fuck it's 1821.
Fuck it. Go big or go home.
I take my pass line up to $500 and shove $5000 behind the line. Everyone at the table is looking at me funny. I give $2400 to the dealers and tell them to split me the 6/8.
Pit Boss: are you SURE you don't want a players club card?
Me: no time! throw them bones!
The whip slides the dice over to the fella next to me. He throws.
Dealer: Four hard, four the hard way, four.
Everyone at the table is looking at me funny. My $500 pass line bet has paid even money. The $5000 behind the line pays true odds on a 4, at 2:1. I look down at my watch. 1829. The dealers are stacking and distributing chips with a fervor.
Me: Take down my 6/8 and color me up.
Dealer: You got it boss!
As they color up my chips, I tell Mrs. fluffy I just won a ton of money at the meadows and I'm cashing out now. I take a $100 chip, hold it up and ask if the dealers want to play it or drop it
Dealer: It's up to you man, we don't mind.
I plant the chip down on the pass line and tell them put half on the pass line ferda boys, drop the other half. They all LITERALLY clap and thank me.
Me: One more thing, where's the cashier?
They point me to the cage with the aplomb of a new airport ramper. I leave the casino with a giant wad of cash bulging in my jeans. There's no line and they count out all my cash quickly. I look down at my watch as she's counting out the last of the small bills. 1835.
Fuck. I'm going to be late. I hate being late. I jog out to the north garage and hightail it back up interstate 79.
I have never driven in snow, at night, or for that matter driven in Pennsylvania before until now. It's snowing, it's dark, the speed limit is 55 and I am the SLOWEST guy in the right lane at 80 and people are passing me going WTF ARE YOU DOING GET OFF THE ROAD judging by the horns and the flashing headlights. I am HAULING ass back up to the venue and I park the Toyota in a handicapped spot as I race into the venue. I find Harriet, the party planner she hands me a vest with a nametag.
My transition from Will the gun dealer to Mario the waiter will completed as soon as he arrives. I get fluffy's favorite drink and a plate of some food set up on a tray and I hide in the back waiting for his arrival. Here's a photo. https://imgur.com/yZP2FuI
As if it were choreographed to the minute, Mrs. Fluffy walks him in the front door at 7PM to a room full of people as a birthday surprise. He had not seen it coming. He begins making the rounds seeing everyone and saying hello. It's a big party so it takes some time. I hang back for a few minutes and let him do his thing and I give my phone to one of his friends and tell them to get this next part on video as I put on the vest and adjust the nametag.
Friendo: Sure thing "mario"
Me: shut up and just do some good camera work!
I take the tray of beverage and minature charcuterie plate over to fluffy as he's greeting the party guests and sneak up behind him. He's taking his grand old time working the room. In my best italian Pittsburgh native accent I can muster, I'm holding the tray and I walk in front of him and put on a great big smile.
Me: Can I get yinz something to drink? Or some charcuterie and that?
Fluffy: .......
(I now feign anger)
Me: OR IS THIS FOOD AND BEVERAGE NOT DAMAGED ENOUGH FOR YOUR LIKING?!?!?!??!?!?! YOU FAT DIABETIC OLD FUCK!
Fluffy: What.....are you.........doing here?
Me: Mrs told us about it and I figured I should give you a hard time after your comments this morning. Would you like some food? You know, airplane noises make the food taste better. Or are you a little too old for that? Lets give it a try!
(I grab a carrot stick and fly it into his face by making very loud airplane noises in a ballroom full of fluffy's closest friends and family making a gigantic scene with people wondering is this a joke or what horrors are about to come next. No, this is not a joke, this really happened. Ask anyone who was there.)
Fluffy: I'm good thanks
Me: you sure? (more airplane noises followed by a carrot slice raping his mouth)
Fluffy is shocked and awed. I tell him to go work the room and to have a happy birthday party. There's an open bar and I help myself to a double ginger ale, neat.
I find some millennials and we chat about Hawaiian shirts and stuff and they think my comedy is HILARIOUS. Unlike most of reddit. Fluffy saunters over and we chat some more and he's wondering WTF. I told him the wife planned it all months in advance.
Fluffy: You know u/xxxwirtydhorexxx is here.
Me: That's really funny.
Fluffy: No, he's really here.
Me: Bullshit. Then where is he?
Fluffy: He's right in front of you, 12 o'clock.
I don't see him. Then I look down and there's a guy in a boonie hat. I didn't recognize him without the dress.
Me: Oh dear god. He's really here isn't he?
Wirty gets up and walks over and he's like HI! I THOUGHT IT WAS YOU!
We have a bunch of really really awkward conversation that involves him inviting me to sit next to him and me running over to Mrs. Fluffy asking her to save me from wirty. She finds a spot at her table by her kids for me.
I forget his present, even though his wife said no presents and there's a table full of booze, scratchers, and gun stuff. I drive back up to the hotel to grab it and give it to him. He has no idea what it is. You all should ask him about it. I give it to him and Wirty starts complaining about normies.
Fluffy: Where are you staying?
Me: The Hilton just down the street
Fluffy: Oh, the one on the top of the hill?
Me: That's why it's the HILL-ton.
Everyone groans. Me and wirty talk and he weirds me out and demands to stand next to me in the group photo. I tell more jokes and the millenial group loves me. We close the place down and head back to fluffy's hotel.
BOY HOWDY LET ME TELL YOU.........if you thought MY stories were longwinded and pointless you have not met some of fluffy's friends! His local raconteur buddy was telling us at 145AM his story about being fucked by the Virginia state police for speeding. Yeah. I dump him off at his hotel and I head back up to my room. It's 3AM by the time I shower and sleep.
SUNDAY JANUARY 19TH 2020
My alarm wakes me up at 9AM. My back is killing me. My head is pounding. It's 21 degrees outside. Fuck this noise. I go back to sleep.
The hotel phone rings.
Me: Go for Hayden
Operator: I have a fluffy butternut on the phone for you.
Me: Go ahead and connect us
Operator: Thank you
(sound of dial tone)
I'm not making this up. I grab my phone and call fluffy and we have brunch at the meadows with the mrs. It's fun, we talk guns, life, liberty and the pursuit of extra sides of marinara.
I hang out with them at the slot machines until it's time to head to the airport. I gas up at the sheetz next to the racetrack and I fly back home in coach since my status on delta is radioactive dirt. The incoming flight is late from Atlanta which means we leave late for Atlanta and i get back home 2.5 hours later than I expected.
Laundry is running and I am unpacking as Megan walks in the door.
Me: Hi!
Megan: Hi. Back from revenge so soon?
Me: Yeah. I'm actually late. How was dinner with your brother?
Megan: Good. He took me to olive garden. So tell me what was so important you had to go out for revenge and come back the next day?
(I tell her the story)
Megan: Wait a minute. Your friend insulted you as a joke, so you bought a last minute first class ticket to new york and pennsylvania to fly to his surprise birthday party to yell at him in person, in january in 21 degree weather?
Me: Yeah.
Megan: Why would you do that?
Me: Well he said that you're damaged goods. He wasn't insulting me, he was insulting you. I didn't like that.
Megan: You cannot be serious.
Me: I am serious.
Megan: and don't call you Shirley?
Me: You're weird.
Megan: I'm not the one that just flew across the country to go "out for revenge", and I'm the weird one?
Me: (goofy smile)
Megan: (goofy laughter)
Have a lovely holiday weekend everyone!

Inside Underground NY Poker #9

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Previous: Inside Underground NY Poker #8
Spades — 1.8
Walking into a casino, for the first time, can be quite an overwhelming experience. There’s so much going on — all of the flashing lights, various sounds, the diverse amount of people flowing throughout, the list goes on. No matter where you look, there’s always something going on that can potentially pique your curiosity. Of course, at this time in the midsummer of 2007, I hadn’t a clue of what to expect. I had yet to step foot inside a real casino.

When Chris called and invited me to go with him on a road trip up to Turning Stone, my mood was not only of excitement, it was also flowing with curiosity. I figured that making the drive up to Turning Stone would not only be a great deal of fun, but would also be an excellent opportunity to learn more about professional casino poker.

During my phone conversation with Chris, we agreed that we would make the road trip up there after we finished our Sunday shifts at Spades. This gave us about 24 hours to gather up our buddies and put together a crew. Our main goal was to crush some live action cash games there, but we also wanted to let loose and party. I didn’t yet know it, but my version of partying was vastly different from Chris’ version.

I made some calls and sent some texts, and not too long after, had a few of my closest friends confirm that they were going to come on the trip. I was the youngest of my social circle in high school, still being only 17 at the time. All of the other guys were already 18, so legally, they wouldn’t have a problem at Turning Stone.

If you don’t know, Turning Stone Resort & Casino is located on an Indian Reservation, and as such, the gambling laws of New York state do not apply there — the legal gambling age there is 18, as set by the law of the land.

Now, since I was still only 17, this presented a potential problem. However, I looked a bit older than I actually was, and I also had a fake ID that I had been using for a while. Chris was also incredibly confident that it wouldn’t be a problem whatsoever — he even offered to lay me a bet with 3 to 1 odds for $100, that at no point would I be unable play because of my age. I declined the bet of course, not wanting to jinx myself.

In 2007, Turning Stone was a “dry” casino, which meant that they didn’t serve any alcohol. However, you were allowed to bring your own, and could indulge yourself to your own desire. As of today, this is no longer the case, but that’s the way it was back then.

We calculated that the drive would take us about 4.5 hours, not entirely too long by road trip standards, but could be enough of a mental strain that could potentially effect our ability to play poker, upon arrival. Given that both Chris and I would be dealing right up until our departure, we had made arrangements to take two cars in order to accommodate our entire crew. In exchange for each of us paying for the gas and tolls on the drive up to Turning Stone, neither of us would have to drive — this would allow us to rest up a bit.

My group of buddies consisted of four of my closest friends — Brian, Theo, Max, and Scott. I had brought Theo around to Spades more than a few times, and he regularly played poker, unlike the others. However, he wasn’t very good, but he was very lucky, and he had no interest in studying the game. He got better the more he played, but was by all means, a fish. He loved to gamble, and blackjack was his favorite game — most likely not a coincidence.

I had invited Andy to tag along as well, but he wasn’t interested and declined — he instead made me a standing offer, an open invitation if you will, to go crush poker in Atlantic City, where there was better action and nicer casinos. However, the offer was only good if we would be going to seriously grind poker. This was an offer that I would later redeem.

Chris had assembled his boys just as I had — three experienced poker players and gamblers, each in their early 20’s, just like Chris. The youngest of his crew was Rich, who was 21, and the two others were Derek and Joe, either 23 or 24 years old.

Finally, our plans were set and the rooms were booked. We’d all be staying for 3 nights and 2 days in two, separate, 2 queen bed suites. I was anxious, yet excited, and I seriously wanted to book a win in the poker room, considering it would be my first casino poker room session.

Sunday finally arrives, and I had decided to wake up a few hours early so that I could stock up on booze and weed. My buddies and I had agreed to split the cost of everything — 4 bottles of Smirnoff, an ounce of Sour Diesel, and four 24-packs of Coors Light. In retrospect, this was probably entirely too much for 3 nights at a casino, but what did we know? I wasn’t a big smoker at the time, although I would partake, but I did enjoy drinking when the time was appropriate to let loose.

While on my way driving to Spades, I hear my phone ring — it’s Chris.

“Hey dude, you on your way to the club?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. I just finished running some last minute errands, stocked up on booze and weed for the trip.”

“Awesome. I’m good to go on my end, too. By the way, my plan is to splash around in the $1/$2 or $2/$5 games Turning Stone spreads. I’m bringing $10k.”

“What?! $10k??? Why?!”

“Well, dude, I’m gonna hit the pits too and play some blackjack and craps. We’ll crush some poker first, then afterwards maybe you’ll hit the pits with me.”

“I dunno, man. I’m only gonna bring $2k in total, and that’s for all my costs. Maybe I’ll assign half of that to my poker roll for the trip.”

“You should probably stick to $1/$2 then, and save some of your roll for blackjack, to try and run it up.”

“Alright, sounds good. I’ll see you at the club in a bit.”

I wasn’t convinced about hitting the pits to play table games, but then again, I surely wanted to make the most out of my first casino experience.

I arrive at Spades, set up for the Sunday afternoon tournament, and put in the hours for my shift. I wind up dealing the final table, and the tournament ends at around 11PM. Chris was dealing cash, but we had both made sure to get Vinny’s approval to leave early and take off for the next few days. It wasn’t really an issue for me, being that once the tournament was over, it meant my job was done, and I was free to have a good night. However, Chris made sure to get another dealer to cover for him, both the rest of the night and until we got back from our trip.

Chris and I walk outside to the parking lot — it’s time to go pick everyone up. We each get into our cars and drive off to scoop up each one of our buddies. An hour or so later, I shoot Chris a text letting him know that I’m about to start the drive up to Verona, NY, which was where Turning Stone is located. He responds, telling me that he had already started the journey about 10 minutes prior, and that he’ll call me when he gets there.

I have Theo take the wheel and get into the driver’s seat, as I jump into the back to close my eyes to try and clear my head for what’s about to come. Without making any stops, we finish the drive in just under 4.5 hours. We can see the illuminated, brightly colored sign — “Turning Stone Casino”, and my heart begins to pump just a little bit faster. I’m beginning to get excited. At this point, it was around 4:30AM. Sure, I was a bit tired, but the excitement and novelty of my first casino experience was keeping my adrenaline pumping.

I give Chris a call, letting him know that we’re about to park our car, and head into the casino towards the check-in area.

“Chris, we’re here man! This place is awesome!”

“I know dude, we got here about a half hour ago. I’m in my room changing, getting ready to go play some cards. Did you check-in yet?”

“Not yet, we’re about to head over to the check-in desk and get our room keys. I’m pretty tired man, are you sure it’s a good idea to go play right now?”

“Don’t worry about that, I already scoped out the room. There’s some good action going on in both $1/$2 and $2/$5. I already put our name’s on the lists. Text me when you’re done getting settled in, but drop by room after. Make sure you come alone.”

“Okay… I’m gonna tell my boys that we’re gonna play some poker for a little bit, while they hit the casino floor. My buddy Theo might want to join us. I’m not sure though, I have to ask him. My boys will probably want to get nice and toasty before they head out of the room.”

“Sounds good dude, don’t take too long. See you in a bit.”

My friend Scott handles the check-in, puts the incidentals coverage under his credit card, and I make sure to get a copy of the room key for myself. We head up to the room, we all change into presentable, formal, evening attire, and I crack open a beer, along with everyone else. I ask everyone what they plan on doing for the next few hours, while suggesting that I’ll be preoccupied playing cards in the poker room. This was nothing but expected, they all knew how often I played poker.

Everyone unanimously agrees that they want to hit the pits and gamble, of course, after they get hammered in the room. I casually ask Theo if he’s interested in playing poker with Chris and I, but he declines, saying that he’s not in the mood and would rather play tomorrow night, if at all.

I finish my beer, but not before forcing everyone to agree to a bet, in order to make things more interesting — whoever comes back to the room as the biggest loser gets $50 each from everyone else. We unanimously decide that it’s actually a decent idea, and everyone agrees. I leave our room and head towards Chris’ suite.

I arrive at Chris’ door, and I give it quick, but firm knock. A few seconds later, the door opens, and I find that there’s nobody in the room except Chris. All of his buddies had already gone downstairs, and were gambling on the casino floor. I tell him I’m pretty tired, and then I ask him why he wanted me to come alone.

“Chris, I’m pretty tired, man. You sure we should go play?”

“100%. I told you, I already scoped out the games that are running. The stacks are big and there’s some good money to be made.”

“Alright, fine. But, why did you want me to come here alone, by the way? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, dude. Here, I wanted to give you this. Take two of these, you’ll be in the zone while you play for the next 8 hours.”

“What kind of pills are these? What are they going to do?” — I had never really taken drugs or pills before, other than drinking and smoking weed occasionally. I did, however, try Mushrooms earlier during the summer, and that was fun, but was completely inexperienced when it came to pharmaceuticals, or any other drugs for that matter.

“It’s Adderall, it’s a stimulant. They’re 20mg each, take two of them. It’ll make you much more focused and able to concentrate on the game for the next 8 hours or so. You might feel a bit more chatty, and it’ll kill your appetite, but I promise you, it’ll give you an edge. All those players down there right now are tired and worn out from playing. These will put you in the zone, if you know what I mean.”

“Fuck it, I’ll give it a shot. We came to have a good time anyway. I’m not gonna lose control of myself, am I?”

“Hah, no, dude. It’s nothing like that. They prescribe this stuff to people who have trouble focusing and paying attention. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ll feel them start to work in about 45 minutes to an hour.”

Chris hands me two, orange-colored, oval shaped pills, and I swallow them dry. I had stashed $1k into the safe in my room before I left, and I had the other $1k in my pocket. We leave his room and head downstairs to make our way through the casino and into the poker room.

I was in a state of awe. This was by far the biggest poker room I had ever been in, up until this point. There must have been at least 30 tables. There were only a handful of games going during our arrival, but still, seeing everything all neat, organized, and ready for action, made me think about what this place would be like during peak hours.

I check out the $1/$2 game that’s going, and I see that the buy-in structure is not at all what I was expecting. It’s a $50 min and $200 max. Sure, there’s a few deep stacks on the table, but I felt like this game was much smaller than what I was used to playing. I decide that it’s going to be far too difficult to make any significant amount of money, unless I end up on the good side of a cooler. Overall, it would be a bad move to sit in this game.

On the other hand, the $2/$5 game that was running had a $200 min and $500 max buy-in. This was definitely more up my alley. Several players had stacks with at least $1k, and the average was probably right around the max, conveniently right around $500. With several players sitting deep and a couple of short stacks on the table, I come to the conclusion that this is the game I want to play, as I’m fairly certain that I have a decent shot at making some money at this table.

Chris had already put our name’s on the lists for both games when he had arrived earlier, so it wasn’t too long until our names were called. We were going to be sitting at the same table, and of course, made an agreement that if we were to get heads-up in a hand, either of us would make only one bet, and then check it down the rest of the way if the other called the bet. We weren’t there to take each other’s rolls, but if there were other players in the hand, then we weren’t going to soft play each other, nor try and sandwich anyone out of a pot.

Finally, my name is called, about 20 minutes after Chris had taken his seat, and I head over to the cage to buy $500 worth of chips — $280 in red, $200 in green, and $20 in white. Something I’ve always liked doing, still to this day, is buying at least a full stack of $1 chips.

The poker room had relatively nice chips, and I found them to be most excellent. They had a comfortable weight, handled nicely, and displayed a decent aesthetic design on them. They were definitely of a higher quality than any of the chips that the underground clubs used. That’s not to say that the clubs used cheap chips — of course, a few did, however only the casinos would purchase Paulson chips, which are the industry standard, despite them costing over $1 each chip.

I take my seat at the table, and all of a sudden, I feel this intense rush of energy. It felt like someone had turned my brain up to 11. Woah — I felt my eyes widen.

I introduce myself to the table, and I notice that I’m much more talkative than my normal self. However, I was able to maintain and participate in a fully-engaged conversation, while not missing a single detail of the action that was unfolding during each hand. I could multi-task like never before. I was faster at thinking through hands, I noticed more tells being telegraphed than ever before, and I was aware of the fact that my observations were razor-sharp. It felt like I had been wearing blinders up until this point, and now they were gone.

I was more astute than I had ever been before, accurately being able to predict who was going to play a hand, and who was going to fold, before they even made their action. I was paying attention to the game in the same way I would as if I was dealing it. I’d observe each player in turn, then move on to the next when their action was made.

I would also catch things out of the corner of my eye — a player’s posture suddenly becoming erect, while they would then immediately try to look disinterested, as they used their hands to protect their cards in such a manner that was subtle, yet distinct from their normal method of handling their cards. It was blatantly obvious to me now, when a player would deviate from their normal patterns of playing, behaving, speaking, bet sizing, time usage, and so forth.

I was playing really well. All of my value bets were getting called, my bluffs were getting through, and alarm bells would ring in my head, either to alert me of a perfect spot to make a squeeze play, or if something about the hand didn’t “seem right”. Something I definitely noticed about the Adderall, was that it made me feel much more confident in the plays that I made. It was much easier to pull the trigger, and when I did, I felt certain that my timing was right.

My range was also wider than it normally was. I was playing more hands, going for thin value on the river when I would normally check back, and had no problem laying down strong hands preflop, when I was sure I was behind, but would normally be too stubborn to let it go.

My session was going very well. Incredibly well, in fact. I made several huge hero calls, and I applied intense pressure on opponents who I deemed capable of folding, only to pick up pots I could never win at showdown.

About 3.5 hours had gone by at this point, and within the last hour a new player had taken a seat. His name was Duke, at least, that’s what other players were calling him. This guy was super aggro. He was opening every other hand, raising every C-Bet a player would make, and would just bully people out of the pot by shoving the river or bombing the turn with a $300 bet.

The majority of the table was getting annoyed with Duke. Whenever they would fold, they felt like he was bluffing with air, however, when they would inevitably get frustrated and make the call, he would actually have it, and get massive value. During the course of about an hour, he amassed a stack totaling around $900. He had absolutely no fear, and the money at stake, to him, was evidently insignificant. From his perspective, it seemed as if he was playing for, what you and I, would consider pennies.

I folded quite a few strong hands to his preflop 3-bets — AQ, TT, 88, and QJs. I would open to $15 or $20, and he would re-pop me to 4x or 5x. I even open folded AKo on an Ace-high, 3-flush board on the turn when he check-raised me all-in, only to show me complete air.

That was enough for me, this wasn’t going to continue — not tonight. I had now decided that I was going to be as patient as necessary, and only get involved in a pot with him if the situation was favorable to trap him. You can’t bully a player when the money at stake means far less to him than it does to you. Subsequently, you can’t get value from that same player who is good enough to recognize that you’re only showing him aggression when you have it — they’ll just fold instead of blasting off, knowing that you’re praying that they’ll come over the top.

About an hour and a half later, it was around 10AM now, and I had built my stack up to around $1200. Duke was sitting on just about the same, though slightly less, about $1100. He was still bullying people out of pots, and the majority, if not everyone else at the table was clearly annoyed with him. Low limit players often become angry when they encounter an opponent whose style of play isn’t within the same paradigm as their own. The key is to be capable of adjusting your own style of play.

Finally, preparation meets opportunity, and I pick up pocket Aces in UTG+1. I raise to $15, and of course get 3-bet by Duke in the Lojack to $60. The button cold calls, and for a split-second, I almost 4-bet, but I resisted what almost felt like a reflex, and decided to just call.

The flop comes A5A — I flop Quad Aces! That was the first time I ever flopped quads, let alone quad aces. I stick to my game plan of trapping, and I check my quads over to Duke, who also checks. The button checks as well, and we see a turn of a black 4.

The board now being A5A4 rainbow — every fiber of my being is burning on the inside, trying to tell me to start getting some value and make a bet to build a pot. Again, I resist, and check it. Both Duke and the button check back.

The river comes in, a red 9. The complete board run-out is A5A49 rainbow.

I check, again, for the 3rd time. Duke fires out $200 into the pot of $187, the button snap folds, and I immediately snap-shove on him for a total of around $1140. He looks completely perplexed, and then goes deep into the tank. Not a single player had yet displayed this level of aggression against him.

He’s now been thinking for about 6 or 7 minutes, and he announces to the table that he’s sorry he’s taking so long, but he needs some more time and has a decision here. Some random player chimes in, telling him to take all the time he wants, it’s the biggest pot of the night.

Another 3 minutes go by, and I’m starting to get agitated now. It’s been at least 10 minutes, the dealer is clearly annoyed, enough is enough. I call for the clock. The floor comes over and gives Duke the “countdown” speech, informing him that he has 30 seconds to make a decision.

Before the floor even begins the countdown, Duke announces, “CALL”.

Under the influence of the Adderall, I assume, I inexplicably get the impulse to table my hand similar to the way a blackjack dealer would table their cards.

I pull both cards adjacent to each other, now sitting side by side. Using one finger, I flip one of the Aces face up, and then use that same Ace to slide it underneath the other, and flip up the remaining facedown Ace. I somehow managed to pull this off with such finesse, that it all happened in one, smooth, fluid motion. It was most certainly a rare form of poker showboating, and it was an incredibly cocky, and unnecessary thing to do, however I just couldn’t help myself. I had just decimated the guy who was running over every single player.

The entire table is shocked to see that I reveal flopped quad Aces. Even more surprised, is Duke. He is absolutely stunned to his core. He tables Jack high. I immediately stand up from my chair, and lean in closer towards the table, while rubbing my eyes to confirm — yes, indeed. Jack high.

“You triple checked flopped quad aces.” — the tone of his speech indicating a statement, not even close to what asking a question would sound like, as if he was in disbelief of what had just happened.

“Yes, sir.”

“I just called you with Jack high.” — again, it seemed as if he was confirming, for himself, the reality of the situation that had just occurred.

“Yeah, you did, but why?”

“I couldn’t put you on a hand, and I thought that you had finally had enough of me pushing you out of pots. It didn’t make sense, how could you have anything there when you checked the whole way?”

“I took a risk, and I just figured that you would eventually try and steal it.”

“I’m not even mad, kid. Well played, very clever. I salute you.”

The dealer ships me Duke’s entire stack, plus the pot, and I toss him two green birds. I quickly start to stack all of the chips while I fold the next hand, and then I get up from the table, as does Chris.

“Dude! What a sick fucking play! What in the fuck! Triple checking quad aces?!!?!?”

“I know, right? I was waiting all night for that moment. I got stupid lucky that he called. I have no idea why he called me with Jack high. I mean, I heard what he said, but still, why? How?”

“You figured him out, dude. Plain and simple. Really nice play, I’m impressed. I don’t think I could ever have triple checked that.”

“Thanks, Chris. I think it was just the Adderall. I just felt like I absolutely knew that he was going to do exactly the same thing that he has been doing all night. Whenever he senses weakness, he bombs the river. I wasn’t expecting him at all to call my shove, but I knew that if I bet into two players while out of position, on an ace-paired board, after calling a 4x 3-bet from Duke with the button cold calling, they would both fold.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Great play, dude. Seriously, that was just sick. Let’s get out of here and see what the other guys are up to.”

Chris and I cash out, and we leave the poker room. I ran $500 up to about $2300. Chris booked a nice win himself, running $500 up to $1.1k. We both tipped the cashier behind the cage $10 each.

The two of us are still wired from the Adderall, but now only physically stimulated, and not at all under the influence whatsoever. Sleeping is not going to be an option, so we decide to head back to my room, and get to work on polishing off a few beers.

I insert the keycard into my room’s key slot, and slowly open the door, as I hear a circus of ruckus coming from inside the room.

All of the guys are inside — Theo, Brian, Max, Scott, Rich, Derek, and Joe — they’d gone through two bottles of Smirnoff, a bottle of Jameson that Rich had brought over, a 24-pack of Coors Light, a ton of the weed, and had now moved on to blow, which one of Chris’ buddies had scored from someone in the casino.

As far as I knew, none of my friends had ever done coke before. I certainly hadn’t. Everyone seemed to be really enjoying themselves, though, and who was I to judge? I had just played an intensely long poker session on some drug I had never heard of before, I won a bunch of money, all was good, and so I just went with the flow and chalked it up to an isolated incident on a vacation-like casino trip.

I asked my boys who had lost the most money, both as a way to settle the bet, and to make a subtle brag about how much I had won playing poker. I wasn’t surprised at all — Brian was the biggest loser, totaling a net loss of a measly, yet exact, $100.

He was by far the cheapest person out of all of my friends. He would always argue down to the penny when it came to splitting checks, or getting reimbursed for fronting money for a purchase. Indeed, he sure was cheap, but he wasn’t at all stupid. He made sure that the other 3 guys — Theo, Max, and Scott — lost less than he did so that he could come out ahead on the bet. Of course, he took a gamble by not knowing the status of my winnings, but the worst that could happen was that he would either lose $100 or book a win taking a gamble with it. The 4 of us each paid up, $50 each, and he offset his $100 loss with a $200 gain, for a net profit of $100.

We all continued to drink, I tried a few lines myself, and everyone stayed up until the upcoming evening — it was now time to go gamble again. So, what did we do? We drank even more, smoked a blunt, and finished off the 8-ball of blow.

The 9 of us were thoroughly bombed. Any and all traces of our decision making skills were completely distorted.

Joe was playing $100 flips with Derek — they would cut a deck of cards and whoever cut to the higher card would win. Rich was playing beer pong with Scott for $50 a match, Theo, Max, and Brian were playing $20 rolls of C-Lo with dice that they had bought from the gift shop, and Chris and I were having a pipe dream discussion about how much we were going to win playing blackjack in the next hour.

About 30 minutes later, all of us, while undoubtedly lacking full consciousness, head down to the casino floor and make our way into the pits.

This time, I brought my entire roll, and so did Chris.

The first thing we did was stagger over to a roulette table, only to sloppily introduce ourselves to the dealer.

“Hey sweetheart, listen, we need your help. Black or red?”

“Are you trying to ask me whether I think you should bet on black or red?”

“Ya, of course. You know how you’ve been spinning that ball. Black or red? Which are you feeling?”

Chris and I both take out our rolls and count out $1,000 each.

“Whatever you pick, sweetheart. If we win, you get 10%. If we lose, you think you could get us a comp for 9 to the Wildflowers restaurant?”

“Put it on black, boys. How about we just concentrate on winning for the time being?”

“Let’s do it! $2,000 on black!”

With a quick flick of her forefinger, the dealer launches the tiny ball into motion, and it begins to spin around and around the track of the roulette wheel. The dealer waves her hand over the table to close the action.

“No more bets!”

To be continued…

Next: Inside Underground NY Poker #10

I am at my wit's end, and no one cares.

"You'll regret this!" or not

Casino Security? What could go wrong?

Tales from gaming

Im ready to quit my job.

[Table] IAmA: Hi, I'm an employee at one of the largest casinos in the United States. Ask Me Anything!

Verified? (This bot cannot verify AMAs just yet)
Date: 2015-06-30
Link to submission (Has self-text)

Questions	Answers
What's your favorite job that you've done at the casino?	My favorite job would have to have been Slot Tech. Basically all you do is go around, assist guests that have either won a large jackpot,or fixing machines that ate people's money and giving it back. you meet so many amazing people that tend to share their stories. It's an eye-opening experience.
Have you ever felt that your life was in danger because of any of the guests?	I have not felt that my life is in danger while at the casino. Mostly because nothing can really happen because everyone is being watched 24/7 and we have security literally every 10 feet.
If you had five minutes to create the world's most disgusting burrito and everything in the world was at your disposal, how would you create the burrito?	Five minutes? well, I'd go back to the count room, take a brick of $100,000 in handled bills, then put it in the EVS "special room" where emergency umm, chemicals are. and that's it.
How long have you been employed at the casino? How has the industry changed since then?	I've been working in the Casino industry for around 10 years, this casino since 2008. The biggest change that I've seen was when the state wide smoking ban became law. The casino lost almost $20 million dollars in the quarter after that law went into effect. Luckily the casino I work for it Tribal, so being a Sovereign nation they can make their own laws, so the smoking ban was lifted in the casino. I don't know how other casinos handled that kind of loss.
Damn, $20m per quarter just from cigs? I know people smoke like chimneys there but still...	Considering almost 80% of our revenue comes from smokers, It's amazing how much that affected the other state casinos.
Does the casino have a theory on this? Does smoking increase the propensity to gamble? Or are losers all smokers and gamblers?	Smoking doesn't really affect the prosperity of gambling. It just so happens that around 80% of our guests are smokers.
How does the casino deal with cheaters when they're caught? What's the most money you've ever found on the casino floor? What do you think when you see people losing thousands on roulette in one night?	About the only thing people can cheat on are table games, slots are mostly all digital now. They're usually banned from playing at the tables or from the casino itself.
	The most money I've found on the floor was $200. Took 20 minutes to find the owner, but we got it too them.
	That's not what we want our guests to do. We only want the money that people can afford to gamble away. Guests that are compulsive gamblers are hard to deal with, because it's like any other addiction.
Thanks for getting back to me. That's nice that you got it back to them. Yeah I can imagine, can't look good to novice gamblers to see people behaving like that.	To the best of my knowledge I can't say that we have. Plus we watch people 24/7, so it's hard for them to cheat and get away with it.
Have you ever caught anybody working as a team or any corrupt dealers? What's it like organizing the big poker tournaments when they come in? Are they exciting?	For the poker games, they are very exciting to organize. They're usually some of the top players in the world, and having people flock to the casino is always good for business.
How do you apply for a job there? How strict are background checks, drug tests etc?	You can do it online or at the HR building behind the casino. To work there, you must fill out a Gaming License App. from the casino, this can include, depending on your license level (Either 2 or 4) your past 10 years of employment, housing, any criminal convictions, and your last 3 years of tax returns. Drug test are Urine and Hair follicle test that are processed on site.
Pot OK?	Nope. They test for it. Unfortunately
One of my friends went to america and vegas once and he told me only parts of it are glamorous, but most people come in sweatpants with a baby on their lap, or stuff like that.	We aren't allowed to have minors on the game floor by law, so we don't have kids in the casino. The rest of the resort is kid friendly though!
He thought it was more depressing and sad than fun, your thoughts and experience?	I will say that a vast majority of casinos are dark/dingy looking, which is sad. Casinos are meant to be clean, glamorous places where people ooohhh and ahhh over the beauty of the casino. Our casino is tribal, so we have a lot of Native American art styles and natural elements playing into the theme of the casino.
Besides slots what game has the biggest win per square foot for the casino?	Biggest win for the Casino, or the Guest?
If your casino has poker has there been any talk about contracting or even getting rid of the room? I've heard poker numbers are down and the floor space could make way more with extra slots.	We actually got rid of our poker room in 2011, shortly after I started working there. The number were extremely low for our area, which was just a factor in people not really wanting to play it. The room became a private gaming area for our high rollers.
What is the procedure when you catch someone counting cards? Some people have said they are politely asked to leave the casino while others have said they are straight up banned from the casino. Do policies differ for different casinos? Do you take them to the 'back-room' if it even exists?	For people who get caught counting cards, our casino asks them to leave, and then we right down their information, inform the management for Table games to look out for the guest. The guest can still play slots, but is banned from play at tables.
	The first casino I worked for had them escorted to a "Holding room" where they were processed and then banned. They don't like people who steal the houses money.
I can't believe you can earn $95k a year without the ability to distinguish between "right" and "write." I don't want to live on this planet any more.	Oh rats :( I was never that good at grammar.
Do you actually play the games when you're not working? Is it common/allowed among workers? What're favored games for people in the business?	We can gamble at the casino, but we can't do any progressive slot that has the potential to pay out more than $5000. Table games are the same, we're limited to at most $25 a hand. It's there so that employees can't win the jackpots, making guests upset and thinking it's rigged. The vast majority of people enjoy the table games.
Is the alcohol free for guests? How do I buy chips and how do I cash them in when I'm done gambling?	Alcohol isn't free for guest, however Water, Coffee, Tea, and Soft drinks are free. Chips can be bought at the Cage (cashiers) or at the table games themselves. To cash chips in, simply go up to the cashier, hand them the chips, and the cashier will give you cash in denominations of your choosing for the chips!
How difficult is it to become a dealer? Any advice on trying to become one.	It's pretty easy to become a dealer. All you have to do is apply, get hired, then go through 2 weeks of training. Simple as that!
	EDIT: to get a leg up, try and learn the basic rules to the games. It puts you tat much ahead of other players. Also have a very friendly attitude to guests.
Why is it that the house always wins?, and do you have any tips for a newb?	Statistically, The house (casino)will always make make more money than it give out as winnings. Again, if you want to play to win, table games are you best odds. Slots are fun to play, but you'll just put your money in and nothing will come out, generally speaking.
How does tipping work for you guys?	Usually it depends on the job your tipping. If you tip a cashier or slot attendant, they have a pool that the tip goes in that's divided at the end of the shift. Other like beverage server or waitress at our Hard Rock receive tips normally.
How many hours a week do you average?	Depends on the job. For me I'm working around 50-55 hours a week. Most full time is 40, part time around 30.
No I'm wondering about how easy it is to rig the games even more towards the houses odds.	It's quite hard if you really wanted to. Slots are connected to other slots in other casinos, so we can't change that. For table games. It's really strict on how you serve and how you show the cards. Can't really cheat the players out, because they might get suspicious and quit coming.
What percentage of your betting area is covered by slot machines, and do you see many people just sitting there all day losing money?	Out of our 133,000 sq ft, around 80,000 are slots.
	Normally people will play a machine, get bored then switch to the machine next to them if it isn't busy. We do have the occasional person that wears a diaper and just sits there all day long, but it's extremely rare.
Do you get many big-time gamblers? What kind of perks do these players get? I know that in some casinos/hotels they are given the most luxurious rooms, free food and drinks + vouchers to spend shopping.	We have one guy who is our biggest high roller, he has spent over $100 million at our casino. We comp him on everything. For his birthday last year we gave him a car. He has what's called a host follow him around the host gets him whatever he wants/needs.
Could you estimate how much money he has won in spending the $100 million? Do you think he has profited?	We actually keep track of players coin in (spent) and coin out (won). I think he's won around $90 million back, so still in our favor but not as bad as most people.

Last updated: 2015-07-04 05:34 UTC
This post was generated by a robot! Send all complaints to epsy.

[Table] IAmA: I can make it rain $100's! I work in a casino's Main Bank - Ask me EVERYTHING!

Verified? (This bot cannot verify AMAs just yet)
Date: 2014-03-29
Link to submission (Has self-text)

Questions	Answers
If you were going to rob a bank and could only arm yourself with standard items found at the grocery store, which items would you choose and how would you use them?	Awesome question!
	First, something I could stuff under my clothes - papertowels, toilet paper... anything to make me appear bigger than I am (so on camera, they see a HUGE person trying to rob the bank). Second, hairspray with maybe a blue color? As soon as I was done, wash that crap out (disguise my natural hair color). Scissors - cut my hair after I'm done too. Lots of makeup that can be washed off.
	Gloves for fingerprints, glasses (even if things look like a fish bowl, you can accidentally drop them so they are looking for someone with that kind of prescription)... Anything to throw them off.
	Maybe a knife for a weapon.
	And peaches (again, I'm allergic, they wouldn't look for me if they were left behind).
	Incidentally, I have worked for a real bank before :D.
Do you wear gloves when you handle all of my money? Not for fingerprints, but for cleanliness.	Nope. Gloves make you lose traction when handling cash. Think of trying to shuffle through several sheets of notebook or computer paper with gloves on. You need the tactile feel to know you have only one bill. A lot of us use [Link to www.leeproducts.com](sortkwik) to help when counting money (so we don't look like old people licking our fingers).
	We do heavily stock up on hand sanitizer in the department. Trust me, you are correct about filthy money. And, (maybe) surprisingly, coin is worse. *apparently, formatting doesn't like me today...
Do you practice money-laundry or some other form of cleaning?	I hate laundry. I avoid it when possible. :)
	Answered this when half asleep. As far as cleaning, not the cash or coin. But if blood or body fluid ends up on cash or coin, we seal it in a bag and send it with the night deposit to the outside bank.
	If blood or body fluid gets on a chip, an EMT takes gloves, takes all the chips that might be contaminated, and cleans them for us. I'm not sure why an EMT other than they are licensed to handle body fluids, but that is what happens to them.
Do you ever get the urge to grab a stack of money and walk out the door? Obviously you'll get fired/go to prison, but does the thought cross your mind a lot?	We joke about it, but no. We prepare a deposit on grave shift that goes to the external bank (think Bank of America or Commerce or whatever). You can fit between 15 and 17 bundles in a clear deposit bag (depending on brand of deposit bag). We often joke about which grave banker gets the bag with the most money, and which one gets the smaller bag.
	But no, I don't need to spend time in jail, and honestly, unless it is enough to get me to a small island with non extradition laws, it isn't worth it.
I've seen casinos that literally have places where you can mortgage your house so I would imagine you have seen some infinitely depressing scenes during your days as a cashier. What was the saddest thing you saw?	Well, you can't do that at my casino. The state I am in literally is the most regulated for casinos. We often say it is backwards in how they do things.
	The saddest? Probably hearing guests say they can't pay rent or they 'need to win their money back'. We have programs where they can opt out (be banned), and we are supposed to pass on names if we think someone may need help (we can't say they do, we are not trained to make that call). I passed on the information once to a supervisor. It was obvious he didn't care, and I am 99% sure he never passed the information on.
	That and seeing guests trying to use their federal or state benefit cards to get money. We have to turn them away, and then they get mad at us. Um... if you want to try to use your unemployment to gamble, you have a problem.
Charmander, Bulbasaur or Squirtle?	Oh... wow... I love them all. I mostly disliked Pikachu. Between those three... this, I guess.
	But, to tell you a secret, these two are my favorites!
Can you work while on the influence alcohol? (Ran out of questions) Also, did you have any employees who tried stealing chips/bills?	Myself, I cannot work under the influence. We are not supposed to have any alcohol within 12 hours before our shift starts. Now, I've had a wine cooler three or four hours before, but its a wine cooler, not Jack Daniels. I had a co-worker who was alcoholic and showed up hung over everyday, but as an alcoholic he could function that way. We also had one cashier that we knew she had to be on something, but after the initial drug test upon hiring, she never had another (they claim to do random tests, or if you have an accident/work injury, which I did back in January - they drug tested me then). She quit eventually. Another male, you could smell it on him. He was quickly transferred to the hotel, where he was subsequently fired.
I saw that comment right after posting this, real sorry. Anyways it seems you have a great job and a great sense of humor, Its nice to see some few people who put great content or replies to people :)	Thanks! Kinda been doubting AMA as it hasn't been a huge hit (and wouldn't expect it to top the vaccine or war vet one), but I still am having fun with it :)
Have you ever used bake goods as part of a plan to take-over a money-making operation or nation-state?	No. However, on my last day, if my current manager is still there as manager, I plan to make her ex-lax brownies.
Pro-tip: visine in her coffee will work faster than the ex-lax. Use the ex-lax brownies as the gift that keeps on giving. While we're on the subject and this is an AM(a)A, Could you tell us about this supervisor and any stories which may entertain a crowd?	Just a quick overview I suppose... she came from a different department and knows virtually nothing about ours. I personally have chewed her out three times - once when I was a supervisor and she was in a different department, and twice since she became my 'superior'.
	Entertaining: She is a blond, both in hair color and implied attitude/knowledge/everything. She is famous for standing around, twirling her hair, and saying "I don't know."
	Why we hate her (2 quick points) - She knows nothing about our department. Swing shift (I am grave) bank was 'missing' over a million dollars (paperwork issue, money wasn't actually gone). Instead of helping, she was overheard saying, "Well, I have to go to my husband's softball game," and she just left. Your department looks like it is missing over a million dollars, they can't find it, and you are just going to leave. Great management. - She asks for our input and ignores it. She is a 'yes' woman. There are many, MANY stories, but those are just two quick reasons...
It sounds like she sucked a lot of dick to get where she is.	You are not the only one to think this. :D.
With a manager THAT BAD, is it safe to say that the "Pow-Wow" safe must be a myth? "Sorry. Hey, I was just hired and trained to count money. I didn't know it was loaded..."	As far as I know, myth. Lol.
Wow. Thievery is such a murderous business. Couldn't I just show you my big gun and insist you gimme what I want?	Ha - that works better at a cashier window ;)
Mos interesting coin or currency pull? I suppose you got the person trying to spend the $1000 note he got from his grandpa's collection...	Hmm... in the bank, I catch a lot of counterfeit that the cashiers' miss. I have a legit bill I got that is smaller than normal size. Researched and found there was some chemical you could soak bills in and it shrinks everything. I had to verify it was real before I could buy it from the bank.
	I had a businessman (a regular guest) who runs a nail salon give me a huge stack of twenties once - one was counterfeit. Had to call a gaming officer (actual highway patrolman) to question him. He says (I believe him) he got it at work and didn't realize it was fake. It was an 'okay' fake (easy for me to spot since I'm used to it). We've also had someone try to make fake tickets for the slot machines. No fake coins that I am aware of - though guests will bring huge bags of coin for us to convert to paper money, and we run it in a machine. Sometimes we find those flat spacers (for bolts and nuts) in there. So we lose maybe a whole dollar a month to that.
	Otherwise, most interesting would actually be IDs. Its fun to catch the fake IDs. :D.
those flat spacers.	Thank you. Had a moment and couldn't think of the word! I work overnights... apparently I go dumb when it's daylight out. Maybe I'm allergic to the sun. (Thanks again!)
Washers.	Sorry, missed the second part there. We don't use tokens (casino coins) anymore. We have gotten blank 'slugs' in our jetsorts (think coinstar - machine that separates and counts coins). Not too often.
I'm curious though, I saw a documentary who essentially made coin blanks of the same general composition as some casino coins, ever get any of those?	Most often, we get bus tokens, Chuck E Cheese tokens, Angel coins, stuff like that. And if you ever bring a lot of coin to be converted to bills, please remove paper clips, safety pins, nuts, buttons, etc. They jam our machines sometimes. If the machine jams, I can guarentee we won't get an accurate number, and you will be shorted. Period.
So, we love the service we get at Casinos -- even at the Cal Neva in Reno we got top notch service -- do Casinos tend to pay better than the same job elsewhere? Or, do the tips add up?	Casino pay depends on job. Slots in my casino makes just a little over minimum wage, but they make a nice profit in tips. Dealers make less, but they kill in tips. As for cashiers - I once worked two jobs, one at my casino and one at a bank part time. A starting cashier makes more in their base salary than a bank teller, as well as a higher base pay than dealers or slots. But as far as employees who actively deal with guests on the gaming floor, we make the least. No one tips (hardly) the cashier, because usually they are coming up when they are losing and need to withdraw more money. So we don't get to see the happy guests too often.
Also -- what's the rule about tipping with chips/slot tickets? We gave our waitress a slip worth 5 or 7 dollars once, but now I feel bad, like maybe we DIDN'T give her a tip.	Tipping with chips or tickets is 100% acceptable. At our casino, the waitress (or whatever employee) brings those to a special hidden window that is only for casino employees. At that window, we make change for bartenders, give slots their money so they can pay jackpots, and we will cash the ticket or chips for whoever received them. So yes, she did get/should have gotten the tip!
What's the biggest amount of money you have seen at once?	Hmm... back when I first became a banker... over six million? I worked in the bank last on Thursday night. We had (does the math) almost 2.5 million when I walked in and counted.
Physically? or just numbers on a sheet?	Physically. On our spreadsheets? We are usually accountable for between 12 and 15 million - but the money is in ticket machines, cashier drawers (tills), slot wallets (what slots use to pay jackpots), all outlets in the casino and hotel, and all chips (even though they are not cash, they have cash value).
Ever tried rolling in it? XD, jk, thx for answering.	OMG! It is so filthy. After working just an hour, I have to wash my hands before using the restroom. And after of course, cause not washing after is just disgusting! Lol.
Do you have facial recognition on the doors?	Some casinos might have facial recognition, but that is the first I have heard it.
Would i be correct to assume that money stored is to go to the bank? I assume large winning amounts would be paid via cheque?	Yes, money is stored in the main bank and then eventually sent on to an outside bank as a deposit. However we do pay large jackpot out in cash if that is what the guest wishes. The largest jackpot I've ever seen from a slot machine was over $200,000. That guest did take a check for most of it. The largest I've seen that was I myself paid out as all cash was around $170,000ish. So really its whatever the guest prefers. If I guest honestly wanted $500,000 in cash we would pay them five hundred thousand cash, although honestly, that's really stupid. A check can always be cancelled before is paid out and rewritten if it is lost or stolen; if the cash is gone (lost or stolen) and no one catches the perpetrator the cash is gone.
Whats the craziest, wierdest and scariest things you have seen while on/off the job at a casino?	Craziest - when one woman poured hot coffee on another woman because they were fighting over a slot machine.
	Weirdest - The cross-dressing hookers, by far. They don't even try to look like beautiful women.
	Scariest - There was a fight between two guests in the poker room (not the scary part). I was the poker cashier. One was a large fellow and one a scrawny fellow. The large one took a swing at the small one, hit a different guest... they ran around the table, and the small one ripped a hand sanitizer contraption off the wall and threw it at the larger guest.
	The scary part? The first security officer to report to the fight was, and I love her, an older frail woman officer (she really should only be doing ID checks, never fights). She actually put her hand on the bigger guys arm to try to stop him. He shrugged her off and made her stumble. I was honestly scared for her life. A few seconds later three other officers and the security supervisor came literally running through the casino and into the poker room.
	She was alright, but I feared for her life!
	That, or when I caught a woman through the cashier window because she appeared to pass out. I think she had a seizure. I had to catch her hands to keep her from hitting her head on the counter. I had to call for a supervisor to call for an EMT and please get a chair because I was literally holding her up.
Holy crap! Sounds like an interesting buisness to be in. I am underaged, but when I turn over the limit I will be on the lookout for these kinds of instances at casinos.	No worries. Don't take more than you can lose, leave credit cards and checkbooks at home, bring your ID, and have fun! :)
Have you ever had a colleague try to "sneak a couple" away?	We have had theft before. Before my time, one banker stole a 'strap' of hundreds. A strap is 100 bills, so that is $10,000. They eventually figured it out, fired her, and several supervisors because of it (even though they had nothing to do with it).
	We had a supervisor who if at the end of the day you were 'over' (meaning you had more money than you should have), would tell you to go home while she looked through your paperwork. The next day, you would hear that she found it and you were fine. She actually took however much you were over, called a friend, and gave it to a friend who didn't work for us. She got fired.
	We had a cashier who, a guest's check was declined, but they had signed it (not filled it out because at the time, the system we used would print it for you), so he took it home and wrote it to himself for $500. The guest called a week later asking if we had an employee named (insert name here). He was arrested at work shortly thereafter.
Are people really that stupid where you live? If so, do you have more stoopid people stories?	My favorite one: This happened when I was a supervisor, and involves one of our high playing guests (top tier).
	We have two cages at my casino. One (main cage) is open all the time. The other closes at a certain time (as business slows) and reopens in the morning. At this time, the satellite cage closed at midnight.
	Its about 11:58pm, so I walk out to close off the stanchions that make the lines/ques for the guests. My lone cashier is waiting on a guest and has one more in line. At 12:01 I start closing the area while he helps the last guest.
	At 12:03 (because he was still helping the guest) the high end guest tries to hurry up and get in line. I explain that the cage is closed. I could smell the alcohol on this guys breath. He throws a fit about the guest who is being helped. I explain they were in line before midnight, but we are closed.
	As I am arguing, my cashier finishes up, closes their window and begins to remove their money to the back count out area. The guest continues to be mad, and eventually threatens to write a letter about me (and a slot supervisor who stopped to help) to our general manager, who he knew by name (he really did, he said their name... big deal).
	A week later, I am helping out in the other cage. A cashier calls for an override (we waive credit card fees for high end players, but a supervisor has to type in a password). I go up front, and lo and behold, it is the guest from last week.
	After I waive his fee, he says he wants to talk to me about an issue from the week before.
	He then tells me about this bitch who wouldn't let him in line at the other cage a week earlier even though it was 11:50pm when he came up, and how he didn't know how that bitch had a job.
What do you like the most about your job?	My co-workers. The job gets monotonous, honestly, and I dislike upper management. If it wasn't for my bills and my co-workers, I would have quit eons ago. As it is, I'm in and out of school as I can afford it. I'm a non-smoker, and I'd like to eventually be at a job where I am not on overnights.
What is the best way to count large quantities of bills without the use of a counting machine?	Well, we 'strap' the money when you have 100 bills. This has a good picture of straps (attempted to format, if it fails, sorry!) So that makes it easy. The picture is color coded correctly too - blue for $1's, red for $5's, etc. Bothers me when movies have the colors off.
	Then, 10 straps makes a 'bundle', which we rubber band together and wrap in clear plastic that seals. Here is a bundle not wrapped in plastic - after a fashion, you just memorize how much is in a strap or bundle and can count by the color of the strap alone.
	As far as hand counting, everyone has a different method. Some count the bills placing them down on the counter in front of them one at a time (where the guest can't see/reach), some fold the money in half and count the corners, and some just count from one hand to the other (which I do, and I am the fastest on my shift to pay out, according to slots).
How long would a hypothermic drill completely go through the steel of the vault? How much muscle would I have to gain to be able to punch a hole in the vault?	Not talking about my place ;)
	An instructional video
	Not all casinos have what you would call a vault in the sense you are thinking. So make sure the one you rob does before you go through the trouble of bringing the equipment.
Have you ever seen counter fit chips?	Counterfeit chips... closest we got was someone took a $1 chip (white colored) and attempted to sharpie marker color it black ($100 chip). Pretty easy to spot. Plus, if you hold $100, $500, $1000, $5000, or $1000 chips under a blacklight, they have a hidden image. And, if you take any chip, hold it so the side is angled on paper, you can color like a crayon if it is a legit chip (we draw pictures with chips when we are bored :D )
Have you seen that history channel special. It's about these guys who made their own chips and made a load of cash. They had the blacklight tag and everything.	I've seen a short clip that either is what you are talking about, or close. Some casinos have, some don't (according to a supervisor of mine who was just laid off, who worked in a different state so I cannot verify, obviously my casino doesn't have), a scale on their counters (built in) that weighs the chips as you break them down, or even if you just spill them on the counter. It gives a total by weight. Each denomination weighs slightly different. And the higher denominations are a larger size chip too.
Have you ever been robbed?	No, thankfully. We do have panic buttons at every window and the main bank. They've been accidentally hit before. Surveillance must check the cage/bank where it was hit and see nothing wrong because we always immediately get a call from them. Gaming officers (highway patrolmen who are always on property) also show up just to check.
Profit wise, is it good to get into the casino business? Do you know what the profit percent margin is?	I would imagine a good average would be 12-13% for profit margin, though it varies widely based on market (location). All I know is each cage proudly displays a sign that says the previous month's aggregate payout... usually around 90%.
	As far as business, it has dropped quite a bit in the 8+ years I've been there. It used to be super super busy on weekends, and still okay busy during the week. About five years ago business started to drop bad. It hasn't really recovered, not where I am. I think the current economy and its sluggish recovery (... no comment) haven't helped... we seem to be at our new level of business I would guess. Split that with competition from other casinos...
	If you find a great locale, you could probably do quite well. Just... not where we are... too much competition for too small a market.
Great ama btw. Greetings from Mexico where casinos are weird man.	Casinos are weird everywhere, bro. They attract all the odd, different people. Especially guests late at night ;)
Are there any security features built into the chips? Maybe some sort of magnetic code or something? How often are the designs changed? Every time I have cashed in, I noticed they don't really inspect the chips for authenticity. Seems like that would be a major point of weakness.	The higher denomination chips have an image or word that is in the center of the chip that only shows up under black light. Also, not sure if it is a security feature or not, but if you hold the chip at the edge and drag it on paper, it colors like a crayon. We have made some elaborate crayon/chip drawings at work that way. :D.
What does your average day in your job look like?	It really depends where I am scheduled. ~ Main Bank: Count in (verify all the assets we are accountable for are there). Prepare sheets in excel that track the flow of paperwork and money. Do cashier transfers (cashiers send back all the paperwork showing why they paid out X amount of money - checks, credit card slips, chips, coupons, etc), which means verify/auditing their paperwork, taking in loose cash not in a paper strap, loose coin, etc, and sending fresh money back out to replenish what was used.
	~Ticket machines - Count into the bank. Go out on the floor and put fresh money in the machines (where you put your ticket in to get cash out). Print reports so we can make sure the machine didn't over or underpay guests. Do simple maintenance as needed.
	~ Cashier (hardly happens) - Count into a cart, then wait on guests, cash checks, do credit card advances, give cash back for chips, tickets, coupons, etc.
	~JPH Cashier - Count into a 'special' cart and the 'chip bank' (where all chips are stored). Basically a cashier but only for employees - make change for bartenders, the restaurants, give money to slots to pay out jackpots, fill 'chip fills' for tables (when they need more chips). Generally staffed with a banker.
	~Poker Cashier - Only chips and cash in the poker room. Transactions need to be quick so they can get back into the game. They prefer cashiers who are fast with chips. Generally staffed with a banker.
Which game pays out the most often?	Honestly, Texas Hold 'em. It requires skill, and we have some very good players who make a killing.
	As far as slots go, it is honestly random. We cannot fix the machines to win or lose more. Sure, they can be rigged, but we do not have that power or authority on property. In fact, whenever a tech has to check the main computer component for any machine, the gaming officer (highwaypatrol man) has to okay the procedure and usually stands by and watches.
	Now, do not quote me, but one of my friends in slots said he has noticed, the best way to win (not huge, but win), is to play penny machines and always bet 'max bet' (which realistically can turn a penny machine with a minimum of $0.09/bet to closer to $5/bet). Not sure if he did enough observations to make that, or if he just thinks that... but that is what he told me... so, I guess, good luck! :D.
That makes sense. I didn't realize that casinos had poker. The dealer plays poker all night or just deals cards.	The dealer just deals. The way poker room makes money is the take a rake, which is a small cut of the pot. It isn't like black jack where you are playing against the house. In the poker room, it is strictly guest against guest for the best hand or best bluff. :)
of all, your job seems really cool, and second what kind of requirements or training must you go through to perform your job?	On the job training. You have to know how to use the equipment (cash and coin counters, ticket machines), how to count chips (they train you) and do simple math in your head.
	They are supposed to teach us how to spot fake ID, but they don't (they just give us a book with a picture of all states). They are also supposed to teach us how to catch counterfeit bills, but they don't do that either.
	You also learn how to use the computer programs they use for cashing checks and doing credit card advances. We are taught about certain laws that affect things like identity theft and such.
	But it is all on the job training.
Working for a Credit Union, we have a marker that when used upon a Legit bill leaves a gold colored streak, but upon a fake, or any other form of paper, it is black. Do you guys have anything like this?	We do. We have a ton of them floating around the cages. 2 tips: as the pen/marker get older, it will cease to work correctly, and on bills that are from the 1950s or earlier they generally do not work at all. I mean, they will mark the bill, but it will mark as a counterfeit even when it is real. It has something to do with the type of paper used for todays currency verses the older currency.
Oceans 11 and all the others like it: is it possible?	Would you hate me if I told you I never have seen the movie? I know, I know, sacrilege. I don't have NetFlix (yet - waiting to dump my cable contract in May).
	I've been told Oceans 13 is more likely, but again, no idea what I'm talking about here.
Watch them now. but after I'm done thinking of questions.	You'll have to let me know when you are done then. ;)
Paper or Plastic?	Titanium.
We ran out of titanium bags however you could have tungsten or zirconium bags.	What about Gallium? I hear its pretty when it melts. :D.
In this heat it will probably melt before you make it to your car, you sure about you still want it?	Well, you are the BagBoi, any suggestions to a mere banker like me?
How do you eat Reece's Peanut Butter Cups?	With pleasure.
I just put your food in the bag man I'm no bag expert.	How about putting it in this bag.
Do you know who the Pelayo's brothers were?	No... please tell or link? (I'm on mobile atm).
Whats the "list"?	Context? I have no idea what you are asking.
It's a nice film based in a real story: www.cfi-icf.ca/index.php?option=com_cfi&task=showscreening&id=660. Vimeo.com/12114490.	Sweet, thanks. Since I am not doing much this eve, I am definitely going to look that up!
A casinos Blacklist what do you do to get on it?	Gotcha. We have banned people for fighting, ruining property, starting fights with security, theft (if they refuse to make retribution - in the case of say stealing a ticket from another guest). It depends on the situation. Some people who fight are just asked to leave. Some are banned. It all comes down to how you act to our security and the gaming officer, really.
How would I rob a casino exactly like yours, but which (obviously) is not yours. Extra points for guard rotation and vault pass codes. Triple points for being able to leave the annoying and greedy associates at home.	First check if the casino has codes or hand scanners for restricted access. If hand scanners, you would need to cut power. This would work only temporarily, so time it right.
	Next, know where the cameras are and the blind spots (they exist).
	Third, not only know the times the officers switch, but know which officer is assigned where at what time. Some officers run slower than others.
	Not a bad idea to disguise yourself either. Have a way to getaway (next to a river? Have a speed boat waiting).
	Know where the bank is. Is it on an external wall? Dynamite the bitch.
	Doing it yourself? I don't know. The head of security on my shift has several plans to rob the place. They all involve using other officers. They all also involve killing off the other officers in some way shape or form so he is the only survivor. :D.
No question, just wanted to say that I love the attitude you have with your job. As somebody who doesn't particularly like most of his coworkers, you seem like somebody who'd be good to work with.	Thank you - this made me smile!
in the interest of full disclosure, ex-lax can cause dehydration which could lead to death. Any advice given on poisoning someone should be refused by your conscience. If not, you need serious help, friend.	Chill out everyone. After talking with a friend, they suggested simple weed in the brownies, then drop a hint that she needs to be drug tested.
	Not a lot... hardly noticeable if at all. But enough to be picked up on a test. Anyone know how much that is? ;)
Um... You might think that sounds cute. But you're still asking for help drugging a woman without her consent. It wouldn't be a good case for you if something did happen to the woman and they suspect you because you've already clearly shown motive.	Yes, it is just venting. If I really wanted her in trouble, well she has been known to hit the bars often... I would just stalk, wait until she left, and call the cops. She would have to explain why she was driving after drinking.
	I understand you are just being flat logical. But it still came across in a... douche-ish manner? Without knowing me, you couldn't know that I would never hurt a fly. I will give you that. But to receive better reception, sounding a little less demeaning would go far.
	Apologies if it wasn't meant as such, but that is how it came across to me.

Last updated: 2014-04-03 13:02 UTC
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what does a cage cashier do at a casino video

soon I will be taking a math test for a cage cashier job at a casino. Does anyone know what it consist of or how I can prepare myself. Cage Cashier Duties. A cage cashier at a casino is responsible for exchanging cash for casino tokens, and vice versa. That means a cage cashier must be able to handle financial transactions for casino patrons with skill and integrity. As with any gaming worker, she must be licensed for employment, and that may ... The casino cage is one of the most important and highly functional aspects of a casino and needs to be treated as such. It is important to be respectful and civilised to your cashier at all times. Whenever you visit a casino, make sure to adhere to the rules of the establishment so that everyone can have an enjoyable experience. Casino cashiers are responsible for carrying out a variety of transactions in a casino and handling any required paperwork. Those who work in a cage exchange tokens, tickets and chips for cash. A cage cashier is the person responsible for handling various monetary tasks within a casino environment. These tasks might include things such as making change, exchanging chips for cash, cashing out electronic gambling machine vouchers, running credit checks and performing basic bookkeeping tasks. In many areas, a license is required to hold a ... Apply for casino cage cashier positions via the casino's website or classified listings in your state. Casinos typically have a "Careers" section of their website that lists job opportunities. If the casino in which you are interested does not have a jobs section, check the classifieds of your city newspaper and jobs board. Why do you want this casino cage cashier job? Again, companies want to hire people who are passionate about the job, so you should have a great answer about why you want the position. (And if you don't? You probably should apply elsewhere.) Accounts for all transactions and balances books to ensure accuracy. Being a Cage Cashier - Casino requires a high school diploma or its equivalent. Typically reports to a supervisor. To be a Cage Cashier - Casino typically requires 1-3 years of related experience. Cage Cashier - Casino handles financial transactions including exchanging cash for casino tokens, performing credit checks, and cashing checks. Accounts for all transactions and balances books to ensure accuracy. Using our career map, a casino cage cashier can determine their career goals through the career progression. For example, they could start out with a role such as bank teller, progress to a title such as personal banker and then eventually end up with the title office manager.

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Surveillance Footage Shows Man Robbing Casino - YouTube

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Casino: Cage Operations - The Backbone of a Casino

what does a cage cashier do at a casino

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Entitled guests yells at security for guarding money and not stopping to answer questions

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