– Ann Croupier – 13/11/97
“You suck!” Yet another satisfied customer expressing his appreciation for my skills as a croupier. Things are normal for a Friday night at the casino.
“Do your chains weigh you down?” I respond. At the patron’s confused look, I explain. “Your chains. You know, the ones chaining you to that chair.”
This is about as cheeky as I can get in such a customer orientated business. I no longer have an identity, I’m told, apart from my name printed in bold letters on a security badge for all the world to see. I now represent the casino and, as such, must monitor my behaviour and keep up appearances. I cannot display any discrimination whatsoever towards any client, be they drunk and obnoxious or seated chimneys exhaling plumes of noxious smoke in my direction whenever they happen to lose a ‘hand’.
Welcome to the world of gambling. A money-making operation blithely labelled a branch of the entertainment industry. A place where you would expect to find people having fun playing games, but in their stead you witness hard-eyed regulars trapped in a roller-coaster world of easy come, easy go money. This is business to them; this is their life.
The ‘dolled up’ patronage you see wandering about are only fringe dwellers. They are not there for the long haul of a night that never ends. My livelihood doesn’t depend on them. The only danger that they present to security is the occasional tourist snapshot inside a heavily surveillanced area.
Surveillance, security, croupiers, inspectors and pit bosses are all on the look-out for regulars who get desperate. People who know the games back to front, better than us in fact, and who have decided to use this knowledge to tip the odds in their favor. Card switching, capping bets, syndicating with other players, attempted bribery, counterfeit cash… It all happens when money is at stake.
The casino has more rules and regulations than Fort Knox. Understand the games well before you even bother putting money on the tables, because ignorance is no excuse for a refund. A hard-earned dollar can disappear in a matter of seconds, so if you’re not prepared to lose it, then stay the hell away. From the moment you walk through the revolving doors the odds are tipped in the casino’s favor. In order to win money you must spend money, and the more money you spend the greater the return if you win. Therein lies the trap.
Elegant surroundings mask the underlying sordidness. Family values take a flying leap with each spin of a wheel, flip of the cards, roll of the dice, press of a button. Triumphant music blasts out whenever a jackpot has been won, rejuvenating dashed hopes and reinforcing the illusion that easy money can be had. Cheap meals and drinks are an added incentive to stay. How can you resist?
Self-discipline. Don’t go looking for it at a casino. Winning a bit of money is not so uncommon, but the lure of more money determines whether or not you remain a winner. I silently applaud a player on a winning streak, but to win then lose it all is the ultimate character test. Turning on a spouse, a friend, another player or me in anger is bad form, and part of the disease cultivated by the gambling industry. Listen to Kenny Rogers when he sings, “you’ve got to know when to walk away…”.
The atmosphere is electric. Shouts and laughter frequently ring out above the call of numbers and general chitchat, but it is more to relieve tension than to express a good time. A regular’s conversation consists of winning tactics or nothing at all, because attention must be focussed on the game afoot.
I want people to win because it makes for a happy table to deal at, but this is a rare occurrence. All I can do is develop a thick skin and let the snide comments bounce off me. A game is no longer fun when it is taken seriously.
My night is over when all of the cards are accounted for and the cash chips totalled. Trust does not exist around here. Anybody can succumb…
