ATLANTIC CITY:
When we opened up Resorts in AC it was a zoo, these East Cost wise guys knew the payouts on the bets before the dealer could figure it out, thus we learned quick! I heard a dealer ask a boxman from Vegas what an unusual bet paid and the boxman said..............
"Keep paying him until he smiles........then take one back"
When we opened up Resorts in AC it was a zoo, these East Cost wise guys knew the payouts on the bets before the dealer could figure it out, thus we learned quick! I heard a dealer ask a boxman from Vegas what an unusual bet paid and the boxman said..............
"Keep paying him until he smiles........then take one back"
Pit boss to dealer returning from break: ..........
"Why did you tell the Floorman you were in an hour and 20 minutes?
Dealer: ......I didn't say that!
Floorman: ...........Yes you did!
Dealer: .........."You asked how long I'd been in and I said.......I'll be in an hour in 20!
"Why did you tell the Floorman you were in an hour and 20 minutes?
Dealer: ......I didn't say that!
Floorman: ...........Yes you did!
Dealer: .........."You asked how long I'd been in and I said.......I'll be in an hour in 20!
THE WAY IT WAS
By Barney Vinson
The trouble with Las Vegas is that it doesn't have any memories. It's as new today as it ever was. As soon as a building acquires some touch of character or personality, up roll the bulldozers to tear it down so something else can be put in its place.
Those who live here take it all in stride, and hardly notice the spindly cranes that hover over the landscape like prehistoric insects. Fallen casinos are yesterday's news. The El Rancho, Dunes, Landmark, Sands Royal Nevada New resorts catch the eye, crowd the sky, do or die. Mirage, Venetian, Paris, and Bellagio.. But when it's late, and the traffic's thin, and the workday's over, some of the oldtimers still meet for a cold one before heading home. They are all that is left of a bolder and bawdier Las Vegas, and they can tell you how it used to be.
There was the Grace Hayes Lodge, and the International, and the Cinedome. There was the Daydream Ranch, and the Village Pub, and the Playpen Apartments. There was the Jungle Club, and the Colonial House, and a neat cafe called the Dive. A fellow named Lou owned the Dive, and his hamburgers were a work of art. If you blanked at work, Lou would trust you for a meal -- just as long as you didn't stuff all your change in the pinball machine. The problem was that Lou trusted too many people. His old place became Battista's Hole In The Wall, and the new owner is a millionaire.
You took a right on the Strip to get to the Castaways. Built on a pie-shaped piece of ground across the street from the Sands, it consisted of a casino, two wings of rooms, a radio station out back, and a replica of an Indian temple that had something to do with "transmigration of the soul." Then somebody came up with the idea of putting a 1500-gallon fish tank behind the bar. It didn't have fish in it, either. A nude showgirl swam lazily through the water three times a day, holding her breath while everyone watching held theirs.
Maybe the tourists zipped right past the Castaways without slowing down, but the locals loved it. It was the only place in town where you could play a penny slot machine, and maybe win the big jackpot of ten American dollars. The bartender knew your name, and what you were drinking. The waitress dished out advice as well as menus. "You've got to have a bite to eat, dear. You're going to be on your feet doing a lot of gambling." Breakfast was 59 cents, and a steak was $1.95.
Most of the dealers were greenhorns, but at least they smiled sympathetically when you lost a bet and your chips went down another notch. They weren't there for the long haul anyway, but just putting in time until a good job came along. Consequently, every spring a new crop of dealers would show up at the Castaways for that curious Vegas ritual known as the job audition.
It was an unwritten law. You started downtown, then you got on at the Castaways before summer started, and you pestered the good places on the Strip until you got a job making some decent tokes. Passing that first Strip audition was the big test, and over the years it turned many a man to stone.
There was the time a dealer auditioned at the Castaways wearing a toupee. By the time the smoke cleared, his hairpiece had slid around sideways and his shirttail was hanging out in the back. All he could say to those who would listen was, "I blew it, I blew it."
Another dealer showed up early for his audition at a Castaways blackjack table. He stood anxiously to the side, watching with awe as the dealer on the game deftly arched the cards through the air. His eyes followed the cards as they landed in neat little stacks, and if somebody asked him later how many players were at the table he wouldn't be able to say. All he saw were fingers and chips and beer bottles.
Suddenly the pit boss nodded, and it was the young dealer's turn. The weeks of practice and study were blurred in his head as he took the deck from the other man. He cautiously stole a look at the pit boss as he began to deal the cards, and saw with alarm that there were now two pit bosses watching him. With that, the young dealer's eyes rolled back and down he went in a dead faint. Instantly, two elderly security guards broke into action. One dragged the dealer away from the table, while the other hobbled to a nearby office where a tank of oxygen was kept for such emergencies. Together they worked frantically over the fallen dealer, one holding his limp body down while the other inserted a dusty mouthpiece and turned on the oxygen.
Success! The dealer's feet began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and now his hands were clawing at the air -- hands that had abruptly turned bright blue!
"Check the oxygen," hollered one guard to the other.
"Oh, no," replied the second. "The damn thing's empty!
By Barney Vinson
The trouble with Las Vegas is that it doesn't have any memories. It's as new today as it ever was. As soon as a building acquires some touch of character or personality, up roll the bulldozers to tear it down so something else can be put in its place.
Those who live here take it all in stride, and hardly notice the spindly cranes that hover over the landscape like prehistoric insects. Fallen casinos are yesterday's news. The El Rancho, Dunes, Landmark, Sands Royal Nevada New resorts catch the eye, crowd the sky, do or die. Mirage, Venetian, Paris, and Bellagio.. But when it's late, and the traffic's thin, and the workday's over, some of the oldtimers still meet for a cold one before heading home. They are all that is left of a bolder and bawdier Las Vegas, and they can tell you how it used to be.
There was the Grace Hayes Lodge, and the International, and the Cinedome. There was the Daydream Ranch, and the Village Pub, and the Playpen Apartments. There was the Jungle Club, and the Colonial House, and a neat cafe called the Dive. A fellow named Lou owned the Dive, and his hamburgers were a work of art. If you blanked at work, Lou would trust you for a meal -- just as long as you didn't stuff all your change in the pinball machine. The problem was that Lou trusted too many people. His old place became Battista's Hole In The Wall, and the new owner is a millionaire.
You took a right on the Strip to get to the Castaways. Built on a pie-shaped piece of ground across the street from the Sands, it consisted of a casino, two wings of rooms, a radio station out back, and a replica of an Indian temple that had something to do with "transmigration of the soul." Then somebody came up with the idea of putting a 1500-gallon fish tank behind the bar. It didn't have fish in it, either. A nude showgirl swam lazily through the water three times a day, holding her breath while everyone watching held theirs.
Maybe the tourists zipped right past the Castaways without slowing down, but the locals loved it. It was the only place in town where you could play a penny slot machine, and maybe win the big jackpot of ten American dollars. The bartender knew your name, and what you were drinking. The waitress dished out advice as well as menus. "You've got to have a bite to eat, dear. You're going to be on your feet doing a lot of gambling." Breakfast was 59 cents, and a steak was $1.95.
Most of the dealers were greenhorns, but at least they smiled sympathetically when you lost a bet and your chips went down another notch. They weren't there for the long haul anyway, but just putting in time until a good job came along. Consequently, every spring a new crop of dealers would show up at the Castaways for that curious Vegas ritual known as the job audition.
It was an unwritten law. You started downtown, then you got on at the Castaways before summer started, and you pestered the good places on the Strip until you got a job making some decent tokes. Passing that first Strip audition was the big test, and over the years it turned many a man to stone.
There was the time a dealer auditioned at the Castaways wearing a toupee. By the time the smoke cleared, his hairpiece had slid around sideways and his shirttail was hanging out in the back. All he could say to those who would listen was, "I blew it, I blew it."
Another dealer showed up early for his audition at a Castaways blackjack table. He stood anxiously to the side, watching with awe as the dealer on the game deftly arched the cards through the air. His eyes followed the cards as they landed in neat little stacks, and if somebody asked him later how many players were at the table he wouldn't be able to say. All he saw were fingers and chips and beer bottles.
Suddenly the pit boss nodded, and it was the young dealer's turn. The weeks of practice and study were blurred in his head as he took the deck from the other man. He cautiously stole a look at the pit boss as he began to deal the cards, and saw with alarm that there were now two pit bosses watching him. With that, the young dealer's eyes rolled back and down he went in a dead faint. Instantly, two elderly security guards broke into action. One dragged the dealer away from the table, while the other hobbled to a nearby office where a tank of oxygen was kept for such emergencies. Together they worked frantically over the fallen dealer, one holding his limp body down while the other inserted a dusty mouthpiece and turned on the oxygen.
Success! The dealer's feet began to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster, and now his hands were clawing at the air -- hands that had abruptly turned bright blue!
"Check the oxygen," hollered one guard to the other.
"Oh, no," replied the second. "The damn thing's empty!
I sit box at a strip resort. One evening this player buys in for $1000. I ask him if he had a players card and he responds " What the fuck! Every god damm table I go to around here, you guys always ask me about a players card! Why don't you just leave me alone about that damm card".....yada yada yada.......
This guy never shuts up. So a few minutes later my floorman comes over and asks about the player with the black in the rail. I tell him that he's in $1000 cash. The floorman asks if he has a card.
"No" ..............."But he wants one!"
This guy never shuts up. So a few minutes later my floorman comes over and asks about the player with the black in the rail. I tell him that he's in $1000 cash. The floorman asks if he has a card.
"No" ..............."But he wants one!"
Scott, years ago when I was dealing downtown , we had an Asian pit manager. He had a superstition that if the dice were passing he could squeeze his nuts and a seven would appear. Well, one day I came back from break and took the stick, I looked down and saw that both bases were buried in cheques, I mean the bets were two or three inches high and nine players on each end, the point was ten and the prop box was completely covered in hard ten money!
I could see that there were about three or four hundred dollars in dealer bets on the line as well as $212 in hard ten money for da boys!
So, I looked for him and there he was, standing right behind the boxman and, sure enough he had not one but both hands in his pockets, which meant he was now inflicting inhuman amounts of pain on his own nut sack, not for the love of a goddess like creature or for immeasurable wealth but only to prove to himself that whatever cruel and sadistic GOD that he prayed to would surely allow him to POP his own fuckbeans before issuing a seven out!
I SMILED! FROM EAR TO EAR I SMILED!! It had been a long time since he had been promoted and because he wanted to impress his benefactors he had been riding all of us very hard (nitpicking) and now, finally, it was our turn!
When I smiled at him I could see the FEAR in his eyes as he realized that he would truly have to go all the way and explode his own posterity right there at that moment in order to match my conviction!
I SMILED and pushed the dice to the shooter. I didn't dare take my eyes off those two magic cubes for I knew that if I did he might use that as a reason to unload his impotent goo upon me, so, I watched , and to this very day I can still see them flying through the air, from the shooters hand, past the base dealer, up, rising above the boxman's head and for a split instant they were right in front of his face and I swear to you at that moment they replaced his eyes, ( I wish that I could tell you that I could see the numbers on the dice but they did appear right in front of each eye as they passed by ) at that moment I knew beyond a doubt that I had him and when the dice landed and I called
" WINNER! TEN HARD!"
I SMILED and SMILED and SMILED until the pain in my cheeks was dissolved by the broken pangs of .........
"SAME FUCKIN' GUY CALL WINNA WINNA WINNA ARR DA TIME!"
However when the cheering had stopped and all the bets were paid ,he was still the PIT BOSS, and so that I would never forget my place in the food chain of dice , I wasn't allowed to go on stick for an entire week!
But guess what? :) LOL :)
At least I still have my BALLS!!!
I could see that there were about three or four hundred dollars in dealer bets on the line as well as $212 in hard ten money for da boys!
So, I looked for him and there he was, standing right behind the boxman and, sure enough he had not one but both hands in his pockets, which meant he was now inflicting inhuman amounts of pain on his own nut sack, not for the love of a goddess like creature or for immeasurable wealth but only to prove to himself that whatever cruel and sadistic GOD that he prayed to would surely allow him to POP his own fuckbeans before issuing a seven out!
I SMILED! FROM EAR TO EAR I SMILED!! It had been a long time since he had been promoted and because he wanted to impress his benefactors he had been riding all of us very hard (nitpicking) and now, finally, it was our turn!
When I smiled at him I could see the FEAR in his eyes as he realized that he would truly have to go all the way and explode his own posterity right there at that moment in order to match my conviction!
I SMILED and pushed the dice to the shooter. I didn't dare take my eyes off those two magic cubes for I knew that if I did he might use that as a reason to unload his impotent goo upon me, so, I watched , and to this very day I can still see them flying through the air, from the shooters hand, past the base dealer, up, rising above the boxman's head and for a split instant they were right in front of his face and I swear to you at that moment they replaced his eyes, ( I wish that I could tell you that I could see the numbers on the dice but they did appear right in front of each eye as they passed by ) at that moment I knew beyond a doubt that I had him and when the dice landed and I called
" WINNER! TEN HARD!"
I SMILED and SMILED and SMILED until the pain in my cheeks was dissolved by the broken pangs of .........
"SAME FUCKIN' GUY CALL WINNA WINNA WINNA ARR DA TIME!"
However when the cheering had stopped and all the bets were paid ,he was still the PIT BOSS, and so that I would never forget my place in the food chain of dice , I wasn't allowed to go on stick for an entire week!
But guess what? :) LOL :)
At least I still have my BALLS!!!
Well I must say the management around here is shoving this customer service shit down our throats every day now. Even the old-timer box people are talking with the players. It's good in a way I suppose, but it does have it's drawbacks. Last night during a slow period when we had only two or three players our boxperson is yapping it up with a married couple. The next seven-out my only player leaves and I hand in my working stacks and the box runs it all down and yells out "COLOR $347- THREE BLACK OUT", hands me three black and goes back to his conversation! ................uuuummmmm, nice to see the company is getting it's priorities straight I guess.
True story. Shift manager walks into the pit at one o'clock in the morning and tells one of the floorman to call this number he has written down because his 15 year old son was in some kind of trouble. He hands the floorperson his cell phone. The supervisor calls the number only to find out that his 15 yr old is in juvenile hall drunk tank. Apparently the kid was out and about and got into a fight or something. Dad yells out "God dammit!" AND THROWS THE SHIFT MANAGERS PHONE 15-20 FEET INTO A BANK OF SLOT MACHINES!!!
Ummmmmmm not good.
The shift manager gave him an EO and remained calm.
The next night the shift manager told everyone who asked about the incident that he didn't fire him.
Figured he saved the kids life.
Ummmmmmm not good.
The shift manager gave him an EO and remained calm.
The next night the shift manager told everyone who asked about the incident that he didn't fire him.
Figured he saved the kids life.
Now this story goes back to the old Aladdin dice pit. We have this guy who is a huge player ($10,000 buy-in) and very nice. A great guy, very funny and a pleasure to deal to. However, we have a problem. First all the suites are standing behind us, he doesn't know how to play craps and he doesn't know how to toke for the dealers.
We are explaining the rules as we go along, showing him the ropes considering all the boses being there. So Jim, the dealer goes on break and gets on a house phone and pages the guy! That's right, pages the player!
The player leaves the table, answers the page and Jim explains the fact that we can make him some serious money if he lets us take over his bets and get us into the game. The player agrees & comes back to the game and says "Will you boys show me the two come bet system?" as he bets $500 flat with two green next to it.
To make a long story short, he wins $15,000 and we lock up about $3,000!!!
Jim was quite a character. Hell of a dice dealer back then. Lots of balls you know?
Oh and by the way, lately he's not doing to bad as Vice President of Casino Operations at ___EDITED_____ either!
We are explaining the rules as we go along, showing him the ropes considering all the boses being there. So Jim, the dealer goes on break and gets on a house phone and pages the guy! That's right, pages the player!
The player leaves the table, answers the page and Jim explains the fact that we can make him some serious money if he lets us take over his bets and get us into the game. The player agrees & comes back to the game and says "Will you boys show me the two come bet system?" as he bets $500 flat with two green next to it.
To make a long story short, he wins $15,000 and we lock up about $3,000!!!
Jim was quite a character. Hell of a dice dealer back then. Lots of balls you know?
Oh and by the way, lately he's not doing to bad as Vice President of Casino Operations at ___EDITED_____ either!
Guy playing Spanish 21 up the middle, 2 hands. Gets a blackjack and a hard 20. Dealer pays the BJ, and heads to first base. Guy takes 5 bucks off his blackjack, and then ADDS it to his hard 20. (Dealer missed the post-press).
Dealer then pulls 21, and takes the post-pressed bet. Player then throws a FIT because he ILLEGALLY capped his bet, and should get his 5 bucks back. He demands to see the Floor, who immediately is called over and explains what bad things will happen to him if he tries that stunt again.
Wile E. Coyote....SUPER GENIUS.....
And I get paid to see this stuff happen.
Dealer then pulls 21, and takes the post-pressed bet. Player then throws a FIT because he ILLEGALLY capped his bet, and should get his 5 bucks back. He demands to see the Floor, who immediately is called over and explains what bad things will happen to him if he tries that stunt again.
Wile E. Coyote....SUPER GENIUS.....
And I get paid to see this stuff happen.
It's all in the job related terminology:
We like to deal in a good "joint", to "High" table minimums that are an attempt to "weed" out the low "rollers".
Unlike poker, our players are playing against the house instead of the other players, so there's no "pot".
When playing Blackjack and they have a low hand, they take a "hit" from the "dealer".
Their objective in taking "hits" is to get the "high" hand.
If the "dealer" gives them a lot of good "hits", they'll want to give us a "toke".
After all, we help to increase their "stash" of chips.
If their "stash" increases substantially, they'll probably be feeling some "ecstasy", and should give the "dealer" another "toke".
If the other players are winning too, they all become "buds".
It's fun to see another player's face "light up" when he's dealt a natural.
If they win a substantial amount, the casino will have them fill out some "papers" for the IRS.
Blackjack has a different decorum that Craps, and if they make too much noise the pit boss may ask you to "pipe" down.
If they're really obnoxious, the "dealer" may "buzz" security.
If they're really bad, we may ask you to leave, but we don't "bong" you on the head anymore like in the movies.
We like to deal in a good "joint", to "High" table minimums that are an attempt to "weed" out the low "rollers".
Unlike poker, our players are playing against the house instead of the other players, so there's no "pot".
When playing Blackjack and they have a low hand, they take a "hit" from the "dealer".
Their objective in taking "hits" is to get the "high" hand.
If the "dealer" gives them a lot of good "hits", they'll want to give us a "toke".
After all, we help to increase their "stash" of chips.
If their "stash" increases substantially, they'll probably be feeling some "ecstasy", and should give the "dealer" another "toke".
If the other players are winning too, they all become "buds".
It's fun to see another player's face "light up" when he's dealt a natural.
If they win a substantial amount, the casino will have them fill out some "papers" for the IRS.
Blackjack has a different decorum that Craps, and if they make too much noise the pit boss may ask you to "pipe" down.
If they're really obnoxious, the "dealer" may "buzz" security.
If they're really bad, we may ask you to leave, but we don't "bong" you on the head anymore like in the movies.
Click a link
Good Boss Bad Boss
The Suits
Jackoffs
10 Commandments
Burned Out Dealer
Player Etiquette
Evaluation Form
Long Day
(S.H.I.T.)
Good Boss Bad Boss
The Suits
Jackoffs
10 Commandments
Burned Out Dealer
Player Etiquette
Evaluation Form
Long Day
(S.H.I.T.)
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Scott Cameron
Las Vegas, Nevada
Scott Cameron
Las Vegas, Nevada
Email me [email protected]
Copyright 2020-2024
Last update 3/18/2024
Last update 3/18/2024
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