Not great for blackjack - Review of Casino Niagara ...
Blackjack Rules Casino Niagara
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I call it Stolen
Lily woke up with a start. She tried to return to sleep, but the blaring of her alarm clock erased any chance of that happening. She picked it up and threw it at the wall. A loud clang resonated throughout the room, waking up Liberty. She was a loyal golden-doodle that had been with her for the past eight years. They had gone through this morning routine hundreds of times. Liberty bounded onto Lily's lap, making her sit up. "You ready for today Libby?" Lily whispered. Liberty barked in response. The sun shined through the plexiglass windows of their spacious loft. Lily looked at the beauty that was Central Park as she sipped her hot chocolate. She looked at her feet to find Libby chowing down on her breakfast. She looked out into the New York skyline whilst finishing the contents of her mug. Liberty looked out as well. A ring emitted from Lily's right pocket as she latched Liberty's collar. She didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was. She was expecting this call. "Hey Colin, I'm just taking Libby for her morning walk. I'll be there in an hour," she told him. She didn't wait for his response and hung up instead. Liberty led the way as they walked out of the apartment building and onto the street. She had just dropped Liberty off at home and was now taking a seat at the round mahogany table of Meeting Room 3. She was browsing the news on her phone when Colin slid a folder across the table. "I'm sorry Lily, the algorithm can do things you can't and does what you can do faster," Colin said. Lily looked up and opened the folder. "An algorithm can't have conversations with clients, I can. An algorithm can't understand social cues, I can. You can hack an algorithm but you can't hack a human for God's sake, Colin!" Lily shouted. Colin stood up and took the folder. "I'm sorry Lily, this has to happen," Colin replied. Lily sat up, straightened her jacket and walked out of the room. She knew what was coming. There had been a rumour that the firm had acquired advanced software that could take their jobs. Her only problem was that the firm had fired her first. The email said the algorithm was only being tested for now. If it worked, she would be the first of hundreds of employees to be fired. She spent the rest of the afternoon at home. She kept telling herself that everything would be okay. That she would find a job and that she would be able to make rent. She was scrolling through various job websites as she fiddled with the ring on her left hand. After hours of searching, she couldn't find a job with a high enough pay. If she took any of these jobs she would have to move out, and she was not doing that. The apartment was her dream. She decided that she had done enough job hunting for a day and poured herself a drink. She didn't stop. It was 6:00 pm and her 3-litre bottle of scotch was nearly empty. She was thinking, and drinking helped her think. She needed a way out and finding another job was not going to work. She drank and thought. She did this until an idea struck her. An idea that worked in the movies and that could work in real life. An idea that seemed so unrealistic, it seemed possible. No, it would never work. It's 2019 and it would be impossible to get away with it. But they needed it. Ever since Lily's grandma had to go on life support, they lost all of their savings. She couldn't abandon her. It had to be done. She still remembers all those Sunday afternoons going out for ice cream after church. A singular tear dripped down her cheek. It was decided, they needed this. She called someone she knew could help. That person said yes. She hung up and lay down on her couch. She slept with a smile that night. It was the next morning, and she was already on her laptop doing research. She needed to buy equipment. She needed to disguise them. She only stopped when she felt something on her right foot. She looked down to see Liberty lying down. Lily got up and filled Liberty's bowl with food and water. She was on the phone when the package arrived. Liberty walked over as Lily flipped open its latches. She held it in her hands and looked down the barrel. She felt every indent and every bump on its metallic shell. She looked at Liberty and looked back at the weapon. She placed it back inside its case and took a seat on the couch. She turned on the T.V as Liberty took a seat beside her. She had all the tools she needed, it was only a matter of when. It had been a week since they had come up with the plan. All the pieces were in place. All she had to do was step out of the cab she was currently in. Lily paid the driver, opened the door, stepped out of the cab, and waited for Libby to exit. She put on her sunglasses and gripped the leather leash in her right hand. As they crossed the street, she looked up and read the sign. The Bank of New York. She walked through the large glass doors and continued to the middle of the building. There were two elegant spiral staircases in front of her with booths to her left and right. There were only two security guards, one only armed with a baton, the other armed with a small handgun. This was not a problem. She waited a few seconds and soon one of the guards held their microphones close to their mouths. Soon both guards were no longer in the building. She looked over to booth 9 and found a man with his thumbs up. She transferred the leash to her left hand and reached into her pocket with her right. She pulled out her custom-fit 50 calibre Desert Eagle and fired a round into the ceiling. She let go of Liberty's leash. As soon as that happened, Liberty ran towards the front exit and growled at anyone nearby. Everyone in the room instantly ruled out the front door as an exit. There was nowhere to go. Lily ran to the stairs and stood at the bottom. "Everybody listen up! I'm here for the money and nothing else! Nobody try to be a hero, 'cause nobody in this room can survive a shot to the head," Lily shouted. Liberty barked in response making everyone even more nervous. Lily pointed at two bank tellers and threw garbage bags at them. "Fill those up!" Lily yelled. The two scurried to opposite sides of the room and opened up the registers. They didn't have long. The police were probably on the way; the nearest station was 7 kilometres away. They had 3 minutes, and even that was pushing it. The tellers were fast, and soon Lily had the equivalent of a 420k in 4 trash bags. She whistled and Liberty ran over to her. Lily picked up her leash and they ran. Lily pushed open the fire exit and ran towards a dark blue Honda Civic. She pulled the door open and Liberty bounded inside. She sat in the driver's seat and was about to step on it when suddenly, the passenger door opened. "About to leave without me, were you?" He said as he sat down. He was wearing a red shirt with khaki pants and a shiny plastic name tag that read 'Marcus'. He was a genius. He stole one of the guard's extra walkies and told them there was an emergency in another building. He told Lily when the traffic was worst in this area so that they could slow down the police. He was also Lily's fiance. She smiled and stepped on the gas. It was 5:00 am the next day and the Civic was stopped at a Seven-Eleven just off Highway 81. Marcus was inside picking up some food as Lily stuck the gas pump into the dark blue Civic. She looked up and made sure no one was around or acting suspicious. Unsurprisingly, she saw nothing in the dark and deserted Seven-Eleven and shed off her worries convincing herself they had escaped. It was nearly midnight when they arrived at Fallsview Casino. The valet parked their car and the duo proceeded to walk under the glass structure that arced over the entrance. Marcus held the door open as Lily walked through. They had gone through the painful process of creating a new bank account complete with a chequing account, a savings account, and debit and credit cards. The bank staff had been a bit suspicious but a thousand dollars had solved that problem. With their newfound wealth, they decided to spend a little to make a little. They had set aside a couple thousand dollars to have fun with the next day. But first, they needed rest. They had just committed a bank robbery and they needed sleep, desperately. Marcus checked them in and they brought their bags to the room. They set them down on the carpeted floor and collapsed onto the bed. Lily woke up at around 6:00 pm to find a note on the bed. Marcus was out buying them some new clothes. He had left a ham sandwich and a salad on the bedside table for her. She sat up and Liberty bounded onto her lap. Lily ruffled her fur and Liberty lay down beside her. Lily grabbed the salad and turned on the T.V. It was set to a local news channel broadcasting a pie-eating competition. She watched until she finished her salad and put on a change of clothes. She walked through the halls with the sandwich in her hands. Waiting. Contemplating. Thinking. Waiting for the police to show up and rip everything she had worked for from her hands. Contemplating her choices leading up to this point. Thinking about what would happen if they got caught. She took a bite of the sandwich and looked out the window, seemingly looking for an answer to her questions. Looking for a way out of her thousand-piece-puzzle of a situation. Nobody understood. Nobody felt what she felt. She felt a tap on her shoulder as she thought all this. She turned around to see Marcus with Liberty at his feet. Nobody understood. Except for him. They walked back to the room, put away the clothes, and walked to the Casino floor. Marcus played a few slot machines and made a couple of hundred dollars. Lily played blackjack and made a few hundred there. They were heading out for a few drinks when someone caught Lily's eye. He walked with arrogance, somehow enunciating every step he took. He wore clothes that suggested he was living an elegant lifestyle. Lily was not the only person to notice. People looked up from their games when they heard the jingle that resounded from his chain as he walked by. He took a seat at an empty poker table and reached into his pocket. Lily had already pushed her way to the table when he pulled out a metal sphere with a swiveling eye. He took it out and marvelled at it. He set it down and cleared his throat. "What I have here is a state of the art robot. However, this robot does not do what normal robots do. You know what it does?" He didn't even wait for a response and instead continued. "It plays poker!" He yelled. It was at that point that the casino security had reached the table. The stranger looked back and flashed his driver's license. That was all it took for the guards to back off. "I challenge anyone in this room to play against this robot!" he announced. He looked around to find the answer gith in front of him. Lily took a seat and rolled up her sleeves. "Let's play." They started slow, each only betting a couple of hundred dollars. Lily won a hand, and the robot won a hand. They traded until Lily had had enough. She lost her job to a robot. A robot had made her rob a bank. A robot was the last thing she wanted to beat her. She needed to end it. She needed to end it now. She threw her debit card onto the table. "You mind me betting a little extra?" she said. He looked into her eyes and saw the blaze behind them. He saw it and smiled. "Sure, but you're about to lose a lot of money." He snarked. The dealer handed out the cards. Lily had the eight and king of hearts. The dealer put down the flop. A seven of hearts, eight of clubs, and 3 of spades were the cards. He put down the turn and an eight of spades showed itself. "Let's skip the theatrics mister dealer, put down the last card already!" The stranger yelled. The dealer hurriedly set down the last card. An eight of diamonds. Lily showed her cards. She had a four of a kind, plus a king. That was the third-best hand she could have gotten. The stranger showed his hand. He had a four of a kind, plus an ace. He laughed and swiped the cards. Lily wrote down the P.I.N and ran away. She ran to their room and fell face-first onto the bed. Liberty barked as she sat down at the side of the bed. Marcus entered the room with a box of tissues. She cried for a while. She cried until Marcus gave her a drink. He handed her a scotch on the rocks. She was thinking, and drinking helped her think. She thought until an idea struck her. An idea so unrealistic, it just might work. An idea that never happened, not even in the movies. She told her fiance. He said yes. They left the hotel to gather supplies. Liberty barked as she walked alongside them. It was the next morning, and they were at the Hotel Fairmont in Toronto. Lily took a bite of her bagel as she continued counting the cash. They had split up the money into 4 bags. Marcus counted two, and Lily counted the other two. They were too busy counting to notice Liberty step on the T.V remote. It turned on and was set to a news channel. The channel cut to a shot of a building reduced to rubble. Firefighters had put on the blaze, but the whole building had collapsed. The view changed to include a sign on the ground. It read 'Hotel and Casino'. The view changed again to show the Niagara Falls behind the rubble. The view changed once more to include another sign. This one read 'Fallsview'.
Working at a casino was not exactly #lifegoals. But it was better, I reflected, as I glanced down at my scratchy pink poodle skirt and ankle-grinding roller skates, than being a waitress at a Fifties theme restaurant. Anything is better than working at a theme restaurant. Believe me. If you hear ‘Fifties restaurant’ and start dreaming of Uma Thurman and John Travolta dancing with wild abandon, stop it. Tarantino lied to you. It’s just screaming children and drunk tourists, all the way down. Which was why, when my Friday morning shift in that hell finally ended, I shrugged back into street clothes and left for my interview at the Grand Imperial Casino with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I’d hoped that by my twenty-fourth year of life, I’d be interviewing for something a bit more ambitious than blackjack dealer at the newest addition to the Las Vegas strip, but at this point I’d take what I got. The bus ride downtown was boring, so I’ll break here to introduce myself: my name is Mika. Well, technically, my name is Miguelita Hortensia Maria Francisca de Toledo Rosario Vasquez. But that’s too long even by Mexican standards, so go ahead and call me Mika Rosario, because that’s going to save us both a bunch of time. Yeah, you think YOU hate going to the DMV. Anyway, today was going to be my day. I’d traded shifts with one of the other girls who owed me a favor and put up with the desperately sad crowd that wanted to eat breakfast surrounded by bored actors dressed up like extras from Grease, because this afternoon was important. This afternoon was my ticket out of the world of waitressing, even if that ticket only took me a few blocks down the road. No more poodle skirts, no more roller skates, no more children competing to see who can snort a milkshake through their nose, no more teenage boys leering at my cleavage until their eyes fell out. I mean, I was applying to work at a casino, so I was pretty much just trading those teenage stares in for a whole new set, courtesy of a horde of middle-aged middle-managers in from the Midwest for a convention on midsize sedans, but at least it was a change. My boobs were looking forward to the variety. So, there I was, sitting in a massive ballroom at the Grand Imperial with about four hundred other people, waiting for my name to be called. It was a nice ballroom, if nothing else, with real white linens on the tables and carpet that didn’t look like they stole the design from a Dixie cup in 1997. It ought to be nice, though, since the newspapers claimed that this place had cost over a billion dollars just to build, never mind the cost of buying out land on the Strip. All the more reason to get my foot in the door here. If this Robbie Mo guy that came in from Macau to set up the Grand Imperial had that kind of money to throw around, then there had to be a way for me to work my way up through the ranks to where I’d get some real cash. And no more roller skates. “Me-gall-nita… Rose-mario?” The call came at last and I sprang up, smiling as broadly as I knew how and ignoring the way the guy with the list butchered my name. They could call me Mud, for all I cared, so long as they got me away from Big Donny’s Roller-Diner. The first few rounds of the mass interview were easy, to be honest. Out of all those hundreds of people massed in the ballroom, the Grand Imperial people eliminated three hundred with a simple test as to whether or not they even knew how to play blackjack, let alone deal professionally. Most of them, apparently, couldn’t even count to twenty-one. I breezed through that round, and the two that came after it. I’d been slinging blackjack since I was eight, when my dad first set me down and made me help him practice counting cards. Carlos Rosario was a ‘professional’ gambler. Professional, in the sense that it was the only plan he ever had to make money and support his family, and ‘professional’ in the sense that he lost more than anybody I’ve ever seen, no matter how he tried to cheat. Anyway, dealing was easy. I threw in a few flippy bits, flicking aces from one knuckle to the other before returning them to the shuffle, and dancing the spread back and forth before snapping cards out to my nonexistent players. It was simple stuff that any idiot could learn on YouTube, but the interviewers ate it up, whispering to each other like sixth-grade girls. It was round four when everything got weird. My first clue that I’d merged onto the highway to the crazy zone was when a man in a black suit asked me to follow him. He was tall and blond, super hot in a ‘my sense of humor was surgically replaced with a third fist’ kind of way, and he escorted me into an elevator made of mirrors without ever saying more than three words at a time. All the previous rounds of the interview had been held in partitioned temporary rooms on one side of that huge ballroom, but apparently those of us who made it to the final round got to see a nicer bit of the Grand Imperial. That was what I thought on the elevator ride, anyway. I had no idea exactly how nice the bit I’d be seeing was until I stepped off on the 50th floor and felt my jaw drop so far that it should’ve hit the floor. Gold. Enough gold to make the Pope blush, enough gold to buy out the king of Spain, enough gold to...I don’t even know. There was nothing I could think of buying, nothing that I could even IMAGINE, that required that much money. It was a lot of freaking gold. Hot Security Guy frog-marched me through Versailles 2.0 like we were walking down a blank concrete hallway instead of something out of Liberace’s nightmares, before plopping me down opposite the final interviewer. He was Asian, probably Chinese or Japanese extraction, middle-aged and friendly-looking, like his face naturally wanted to smile. Bit of gray at his temples, bit of extra padding at the belly, but it all seemed to suit him, like he’d been destined to be that way since he was born. Somebody’s kindly grandpa, except he wasn’t old enough yet. He didn’t say much as I ran through my dealing routine, which didn’t exactly make me happy. A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck the moment I picked up the deck set on the desk between us, a bead that turned into a river, that turned into Niagara Falls by the time I was done. I pulled out a few extra tricks at the end, flashy little flips that I wouldn’t usually dare try with anybody watching, even palmed a joker into the deck and spun it out face-up, but it was like trying to get blood from a stone. Friendly Grandpa’s smile never so much as twitched, for good or bad. Finally, I couldn’t take it. “Look, that’s what I’ve got,” I vented, cascading the deck back together and slapping it down on the desk. “If you’re looking for more...frankly, I don’t know who the hell you’re looking for. Four rounds of interviews, for a job dealing blackjack? That’s just stupid.” Uh oh. There it went, then. My chance to bust out of the land of pink poodle skirts and greaser jackets. Great job, Mika; all you had to do was keep your mouth shut and flip the cards, but you had to let your temper get the best of you. Then the interviewer finally spoke. “Do you know who I am, Miss Rosario?” I gulped. “My new boss?” I suggested lamely, mustering up my best plucky smile. “My name is Mo Ka-Fai,” he informed me, as I felt my blood turn to ice. “Most people around here call me Robbie.” Robbie...Mo... Robbie Mo. ROBBIE FREAKING MO. AKA the guy who owned the casino I was sitting in, plus half of the Mirage and who knew how many more in Macau. The news hadn’t stopped talking about how stupid rich he was since they first broke ground on the Grand Imperial. “Oh,” I squeaked. So I hadn’t just mouthed off at my interviewer and tanked my chances of getting the dealer job, I’d insulted a man who could literally blackball me from the entire city of Las Vegas if he felt like it. That was bad. “Sorry.” “I didn’t tell you that to spook you, Miss Rosario,” Mo announced, a sentiment that did nothing to unfreeze my spine or untwist my stomach. “That wasn’t the point. The point was to let you know that you are dealing with the person who makes decisions. A serious person. Somebody who is not in the business of making jokes or playing pranks. Is that clear to you?” I nodded like a bobblehead doll. He wasn’t telling me to leave, at least. That had to mean I was still in the running for the job...right? “Good,” he continued. “Jason, bring in the kittens.” He gestured over my shoulder towards Hot Security Guy, as I felt my brow knit in confusion. Had he just said...kittens? What? Lo and behold, the kittens were...actual cats. HSG disappeared behind a side door, only to reappear a moment later with a cardboard box full of mewing little fluffballs in at least a dozen colors, two or three tiny heads peeking above the lip to see what was happening. The box was deposited at my feet, whereupon two dozen curious eyes blinked up at me. “Um,” I managed, my eyebrows raised so far I felt like they were going to get lost in my hair. “What?” “Close your eyes and pick a kitten, please,” Mo requested. I just stared at him. “I am aware that it sounds absurd, Miss Rosario. But this will all make sense in a moment, if things are as I suspect.” I stared at him for another long moment, then shrugged. I liked cats just fine, and he still seemed to be considering me for the job, so...why not? Eyes closed tight, I leaned down and worked my hands into the pile of kittens. A few nips and playful scratches later, I managed to snag one of the fluffy little things and lift it up away from its siblings. I opened my eyes to see a pure black fuzzball sitting in my palms, staring at me with eyes as gold as the extravagant walls. He blinked a few times, looking around to see where the rest of his family had gone, then curled up with his tail over his eyes. Mo breathed in sharply, and whispered something in a language I didn’t know, eyes widening. “Black,” murmured Hot Security Guy. “It’s black.” “Yeah, I guess so,” I replied, exploring new depths of confusion. “Here, you want to hold him?” HSG backed away like I’d offered to shoot him in the kneecap. “N-no!” he yelped, then cleared his throat. “I mean, no thank you, Miss Rosario. Please continue the interview.” “The straws,” hissed Mo, as I turned back to him. “Bring the straws!” Jumping like he was scalded, HSG disappeared back into the side room and came back with a large, blue porcelain vase bristling with...were those drinking straws? They were. Long red plastic straws, like the ones that you got at the movie theater Slushee machine, with a little spoon on the end so you could scoop up the ice bits. There were tons of them packed into the vase, so tight they barely even rustled as Hot Security Guy placed it next to the kittens. “There are one thousand straws in that vase,” Mo told me, as if that weren’t an utterly bizarre thing to say. “Each one has a number printed on the end, one to one thousand. Do you understand?” I nodded again, scratching the black kitten’s head absently. I was this far into what was comfortably the strangest job interview of my entire life, no point arguing over a vase full of straws. “Good. Choose one, and read me the number, please.” Dutifully, I shifted my new fuzzy friend into my left hand while I reached down with my right and wormed a nail into the forest of straws. It had to be some kind of eccentric rich guy thing, testing people with kittens and straws before he hired them, I decided. “Thirteen,” I recited, reading off the tiny black number punched into the end of my straw. Hot Security Guy literally backpedalled away from me, while Mo looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Thirteen?” he breathed. “Are you certain? Out of one thousand straws, you picked thirteen?” “Yep,” I confirmed, laying the straw on the table for him. “One-three. That makes thirteen to me.” The kitten in my hand started to stretch and mew, pawing for the top of the desk and obviously yearning to explore. I lifted him up and let him clamber out of my palm, since Mo seemed more interested in staring at the little number on the straw than actually interviewing me. The one percent is freaking weird. “Right, Miss Rosario,” Mo finally breathed, shaking himself away from inspecting the straw and seeming to collect himself. “Right. Yes. Thank you for bearing with us. I have one more test for you.” This time, instead of sending Hot Security Guy to fetch, he reached into the drawer of his desk and produced an finely carved set of ivory dice in a plush black velvet box. “Roll them, please.” I didn’t move. “I’d rather not,” I hedged. “I deal cards. I don’t gamble.” That was my rule. Ever since I was eleven, ever since I’d watched my father walk out of the house with all the money we’d saved for my mom’s chemo and come back with empty hands, that had been the rule. I don’t gamble. Ever. “I am not asking you to gamble, Miss Rosario,” Mo countered. “There is no money on the table. Just the dice. Roll them, please.” My jaw locked up and my fingernails bit into my palm, but I forced myself to reach for the dice. There was no way I was going to avoid ever touching a set, if I intended to work in a casino. And Mo was technically right; I wasn’t betting on anything and there was no money at stake, so it wouldn’t be gambling. Just a roll of the dice. Breath caught in my throat, I picked up the dice, shook them once, and then dropped them like a poisonous snake. A brief clatter, and then they came to rest, one pip glinting from each face. One and one. Snake eyes. “Two,” breathed HSG. “She rolled a two. She actually rolled a-!” “Quiet, Jason,” Mo snapped. “Again, if you please, Miss Rosario.” He collected the dice and passed them back across the desk to me. The corner of my lip twisted in distaste, but I nevertheless accepted them, shook, and cast. Two pips stared back at me. Snake eyes, just like before. “Again.” Take, shake, roll. Two pips. Snake eyes. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” I demanded. “First you make me go bobbing for kittens and pick out a Slushee straw, and now you’re making me roll a loaded pair of dice? Does this have anything to do with me dealing blackjack?” “The dice are not loaded,” Mo stated, grandfatherly smile all but gone, now. “Inspect them yourself. And then roll, again.” I retrieved the dice and rolled them through my fingers, weighing them against each other, and then froze. An electric tingle ran up my spine and down to my fingers, as I realized that Mo was on the level. I knew what trick dice felt like in my hand; my dad had made me test out the sets he carved in our garage. These were legit. Which meant… I rolled the dice, flinging them hard against the table. One spun like a top, fluttering about before finally tipping over with one pip to the sky. The other skated across the desk, nearly colliding with the adventuring kitten, and flew off onto the floor. Where it landed with one pip showing. Snake eyes. “Again.” Beginning to feel extremely freaked out, I did as Mo asked, taking a new pair of dice from him and casting them across the desk. Two pips. Snake eyes. “Again.” My hand shook all on its own this time, barely steady enough to hold both dice together. They toppled away from me, less a cast, and more a drop. It didn’t matter. Twp pips glinted in the light, reflecting the golden ornamentation. Snake eyes. “Again.” Again, and again, and again. Over and over, Mo made me roll the dice, and every time the result was the same: two pips. Twenty times in a row, I rolled snake eyes. Which was, mathematically speaking, almost impossible. “What the hell is going on?” I asked again, but this time I really, truly meant it. My voice was barely a squeak, choked by an iron bar lodged in my throat. “What does this mean?” “It means, Miss Rosario, that you are the unluckiest person alive.” I blinked. Even in the grip of an utter and complete confusion, I had enough of my mother’s pride left in me to be insulted. “Excuse me?” “Oh, I mean that very literally,” Mo said, standing up from his desk and sharply correcting his suit jacket. “You, Miguelita Hortensia Maria Francisca de Toledo Rosario Vasquez, are the most unlucky human being on the planet. And that makes you extremely dangerous.” “Dangerous?” I spluttered. “What do you mean, dangerous? How am I-?” “We do not have time for me to answer that question,” Mo interrupted, gesturing for her to stand. “Suffice it to say that there are those of us who play probability and odds like a musician plays his instrument. And we’ve been looking for you, Miss Rosario. Looking for you for quite some time.” I opened my mouth to demand more than that, or maybe to just sputter in wild confusion, but Mo steamrolled over me. “Jason, call ahead to the helipad and tell them to spin up the chopper,” he ordered tersely, glancing to Hot Security Guy. “I want to be wheels up in fifteen minutes. We need to go, now.” “Go?!” I snapped, finally untangling my tongue. “Go where?” “To meet with Lady Luck.”
AMAZING question, It actually makes it worse. I had never gambled a day in my life until I took that position. It is the same across the board. Never met another manager that doesnt gamble.
I could not ask for a better job. Excitement every single day. Learing to control personal demons such as gambling and alcohol is always a fighting battle given the situation.
I like to play 1$ slots and blackjack for the most part. On blackjack my average bet is probably 60-75$. My salary does go back, but a portion of it does. I am pretty good at controlling myself, gets better by the year.
Several times. With the security features we use, shuffle machines and cutting off 2-3 decks from the back, it's nearly impossible. Hell we will even teach you how to do it if you'll stay a while ;)
Here in Alberta, the maximum per spot on blackjack is 1000. I did witness a total table wager( by one player) Of 15,000. This was after he split 6 times and doubled once. He won evry wager on that hand.
I watched someone win 24,000 on a slot machine. I reset his machine and he won 24,000 the next spin. I had the machine investigated by AGLC and all was well. He was 80 so I don't think he could cheat. Lol.
No we do not pump oxygen into the casino, It is not allowed. I had to fire an employee for masturbating in the customer bathrooms. Slots are rarely successfully tampered with, but it does happen quite often. The penalty is a fine and up to jail time. You can get in a LOT of trouble for trying something that is nearly impossible, like cheating a slot machine No problem :)
I walked in to the washroom to check on the status of the last cleaning, and I caught him beating it with the stall door open... he forgot to lock it. was very obvious and he didnt even try to deny it.
A guy in the middle of a hand, did not agree with the way a dealer "flipped" their hole card so he took his bets off the table (approx 1400$) and tried to pocket them before we could count what he had bet. He then tried to replace his bets after we asked with about 800$. It was very very easy to catch the amount that was originally on there. Cameras/pit boss/dealer all agreed to the exact amount. He was later found trying to cash out $600 in chips (after losing) lol.
Yup, I am known as the prankster. I like to send new employees looking for left handed roulette balls or polish for the blackjack shoes. After they waste an hour or so I tell them. And they are laughed at by patrons and employees. Its all in good fun. Never had a complaint.
I review the situation, and If I deem it cheating, a review is sent to AGLC and the patrons information gathered along with a police investigation. They will be prosecuted.
I have caught cheaters, almost always at blackjack and threecard poker. The most common way they cheat is called "pressing". Having a partner distract the dealer for a second while they use slight of hand to add chips. Some people are very good at this, so good its tough to see on camera even.
Yes we catch dirty prostitutes all the time. The ban process is easy. We take what info we have on them, take a recent photo from a surveillance screenshot and then post it to the banned wall :)
The guards are pretty well trained. Also we have over 200 cameras. You are on camera within 1 KM of the casino. Also, all doors locked with special proxy cards that only have access to certain rooms, depending on position.
It took me 4 years to get where I am. Went from dealer to pit boss to pit supervisor to games manager. I haven't taken any special courses really. Some training sessions but that's about it. You need to have the gift they say. As for responsibilities. I am in charge of running every department when I am on shift. And I am in charge of all the money. The movies have not done anything except make us money. People come in all the time thinking they will count cards and win, and we smash them.
That I can't really disclose. Although. It's quite funny which one is the worst. I will leave it at that. I'm sure that comment alone will help some people.
Never been to Montecarlo, but from everything I have learned about it, It is very similar to our casinos in Canada (barring a few different table games). They have a lot of the same slot machines and their security is VERY high.
Our casino is only open for 17 hours at a time maximum. That is the law in this province. But under certain circumstances, we do offer help to people we notice becoming chronic gamblers.
We offer councelling (not directly, but sources) and different programs such as VSE. VSE= Voluntary Self Exclusion. You will be excluded from gaming in ALL of Alberta. If caught in gaming facilities you can be arrested.
Yes background checks and credit checks are run on ALL employees. We offer both continuous shuffles and shoes We use 8 decks and cut 3 off the back, as well as use a shoe cover. Very hard to count cards like that. In our casino I would be considered 2nd in line. High rollers are treated very well. Comped tabs etc. free trips to shows and all that jazz.
I am in charge of all departments when I am on shift. Pit boss is strictly in charge of the pit. I am always on the gaming floor interacting with guests. Its the best part of my job :)
Not from edmonton, but I do know who you are talking about. It is the discretion of the casinos. He should be banned but they have failed to file charges.
I ususally pick it. I pick it depending on the majority of the crowd. (old people = classic rock, young people = new music.) We have lots of playlists it doesnt really get too bad.
Never have I seen cheating by the house. I guarantee it doesnt happen in any legit casino in Canada. There are inspectors at all times. I truly believe that it doesnt happen. As a dealer myself I could "predict" my handsquite often. Because you do it so many times in one day you are bound to get it right.
Doesn't happen very often chip wise. But it does happen if people leave credits in a machine, drop money on the ground, or leave money in an ATM. We will hunt the patron down and force them to pay back the money.
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