Here's a story from my time in the casino trenches... I felt it was appropriate to share after seeing all that footage of over-exuberant holiday shoppers taking things a little bit too far.
Sometimes the customer needs to be put into their place!
While quality
customer service is always expected from the front-line employees at a casino,
let’s face it – it’s not always possible to achieve. After all, you can’t
follow the age old axiom that “the customer is always right” when a ranting
lunatic is trying to convince you that they want their $100 bet at the roulette
table returned to them because the dealer took their chip off the winning
number in error –especially when there are no $100 chips on the table, even in
the “muck” (the large pile of losing chips that is pushed to the side in the
clearing away process) making the truth of their claim impossible.
Of course, that
kind of “shot taking” – where a scam artist will attempt to trick an
inexperienced dealer or floorperson into making an erroneous payout – is
commonplace. Most of the time, it can be stopped before it has a chance to
start, simply by dealers following “proper procedure” in terms of game
protection – placement of the cards, what direction to angle their bodies so
they can see cheaters place late bets, the order in which they are supposed to
clear chips from a roulette layout, etc. Of course, even the best of the bunch
can sometimes make a mistake, as what happened to me one fine day near the end
of my eight-hour shift of dealing blackjack.
Blackjack is a game
I could deal in my sleep, and quite often did, as I simply turned on my
auto-pilot, without any real need to pay attention to what I was doing. Simply
put, since most people play “by the book” and you tend to keep the same players
on your table for hours on end, a certain “confidence” is formed between the
dealer and the gamblers. They recognize you know what you’re doing, so they
relax and let you do it. In turn, you know they’re not going to make any “crazy
plays” like hitting a hard 17 or standing pat on a 13 against your face card,
so you deal without thinking and the time goes by faster.
Honestly, as a
dealer when you’re good enough to reach that level of confidence, it shows. Oftentimes
in the midst of my “trance” I’d suddenly snap out of it in the middle of making
pay-outs, simply because it just “felt wrong” – and I’d know I’d made a
mistake, which could have been either in
the player’s favor or the house’s favor – my job is to get it right, either
way. I’d quickly correct it on the spot, and again, the players’ confidence
level in me grew – even to the point that if after I swept the cards away and a
player who wasn’t paying close attention to the game would ask me something
like “What did I have? Didn’t we push?” I could simply say, “No, I beat you”
and they’d shrug and the game would continue. I might not have had any memory
of the hand at that point, but I knew I was right, and based on their
experience with me, so did they. The issue died there.
In short, shot-takers
simply didn’t bother coming to my table – they could see very quickly it wasn’t
going to fly.
But on this one
occasion, I got caught. I had been dealing to this gentleman, playing alone at
the table, for several hours, and he was strictly by the book. He never once
varied from basic strategy, and while we didn’t converse, there didn’t seem to
be any animosity brewing at the table, even as he started to lose a bit more
than we won. However, I let my guard down, just for a split-second, and made a
classic “rookie mistake” by “assuming” a hit was forthcoming without waiting
for the hand signal.
He had 14. I had an
8 showing. In this situation, you hit since you always assume a face card for
the dealer’s down-card. If I have 18, he loses, so he “has to” hit. Of course,
I jumped the gun and pulled the next card out of the shoe, which was a King,
causing him to break. But before I could even get the card over to his hand, he
started shouting at me. “I didn’t say to hit! No hand signal!”
Plain and simple -
he got me. I was angry with myself for letting it happen, but hey, it does
happen. I immediately told him to relax. I agreed with him. He did not give me
a hand signal, so he doesn’t get this card. His hand is still live. I called
for the floorperson to come over so I could explain what happened, but she was
busy handling an issue at another table, so it would be a few minutes. While we
waited, I explained to the player what would happen… by law, we are not allowed
to change the order of the cards. So, if he didn’t want the King, that was fine
– however, it is the next card out of the shoe. If I needed to hit, then the
King would be my card. If I didn’t, then as it was exposed in error, it would
be “burned” or moved to the discard rack. He seemed to understand, but the
floorperson was still busy, and he was itching to continue gambling, so when
the pit boss walked by at this point, I called for his assistance.
I explained the
situation to him, and he confirmed with the player that he didn’t want the
card. However at this point, the player said he wanted another card. That’s not
how the game works. He takes the King or nothing. I could see this was going
nowhere, so I suggested to the pit boss that we hurry along the process by
exposing my hole card. After all, if I had a 4,5,6,7 or 8 underneath my
already-exposed 8, then I’d be forced to draw – meaning I’d get the King, and
break. We could pay this guy and move on.
The pit boss agreed and son-of-a-gun, I flipped over a “2”.
So, we tried in
vain to explain to this guy for the next ten minutes… if he hits, he loses. If
he stays, he loses (as I’d have 20 to his 14) – therefore, he loses. Period.
End of story.
“I want a different
card!” The player screamed at the pit boss, getting more and more agitated.
“You can’t get a
different card,” the pit boss explained for the umpteenth time, remaining calm.
“This is
bullshit!!!! You’re bullshit!!! ” The player lurched forward to point
accusingly at the pit boss, who unfortunately was not the tallest man in the
world, and ended up making contact forcibly with his nose.
“You get nothing!
You lose! Good day sir! Take your free fizzy lifting drink and get the ^$%$%
out of here!”
And so, with
security quickly approaching the table, the man left without further incident.
However, it wasn’t the last we’d see him that day. About twenty minutes later, Terri,
the shift manager came to my table to ask me what had happened. Apparently, the
man had filed a complaint with the Casino Control Commission, claiming we had
cheated, and he was not going to back down until he got his money back.
After I told her
what had happened, she rolled her eyes and started laughing (especially the
part about our Oompa-Loompa-sized pit
boss getting poked in the proboscis.) Because it costs far more money to defend
ourselves in a case like this than it would be than to give this man his $10
bet back – that’s right, we’re talking about $10 here – she let me know that
she was going to give him his $10 and escort him from the casino, where his
business was no longer welcome.
However, when the
man showed up at my table, looking smug and high and mighty, ready to gloat as
I was forced to give him back his bet, Terri had one last surprise for him. She
wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of making me give him those two red chips. She told him she would be giving
his ten dollars back, but if he wanted it, he would have to go to our special
“returns table” on the other side of the casino, a good ten minute walk away.
He was about to argue, but when she asked, “Do you want to make the walk or
drop your complaint?” his smile vanished and his posture slumped.
He waited by the
escalator for Terri to lead him on what I was sure would be the least-direct
route to the furthest table from our location, and as she turned to join him,
she looked back at me and said with glee, “Wait until he finds out I’m paying
him in quarters.”