"Deal"ing with reality

Just a lil slice of life from a casino dealer's perspective.

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Location: Edgerton, Missouri, United States

I grew up in a small town, and live in small town now. Like to think I have more than a small town mind, but I doubt it.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Brains in a bottle.

I realize the last couple posts have been a little heavy on the links. New toy, had to play with it a lot. No links this post, I promise.

It seems that smoking, drinking, and gambling go hand in hand in hand. Not that everyone in a casino does all three, but enough people do that one wonders why more doctors don't have express shuttles to their front doors.

It's amazing how many people seem to think alcohol consumption makes them a better person. They like to think that the 6-pack they belted down before heading to the casino imbued them with the power to outsmart even Stephen Hawking.

What surprises me is how surprised they are when they lose. They form a sure fire technique that any fool (except them) can follow. One guy, we'll call Bud, had one such technique that I have never been able to figure out, even when drunk myself.

The first part of Bud's technique was to play on as many tables as possible. He dragged his wife from table to table in an attempt to find one they would lose less on than the others. This included attempting to play blackjack on a poker-style game.

The crux of this particular method of drunken gambling appeared to be making the absolute worst possible decisions.

The happy (very intoxicated) couple walked up to a nearly full table and placed their bets. Bud bet $10. Mrs. Bud bet $45. The dealer turned up a 9. He waved his hand to signal that he wanted to stay on his 14. To the surprise and disappointment of the other players he then instructed his wife to hit her 18. Over and over. She drew a 6 and busted.

The dealer turned up her 19 and paid the smarter (more sober) players before taking Bud's money. The entire time Bud had a stupid grin on his face. As though losing $55 was entirely a part of his plan.

Mr. and Mrs. Bud continued to move from table to table until they had played on (donated to) every game we had. I honestly don't know who's brain was more pickled. His for the obviously poor game strategy. Or her for playing his very flawed method.

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