Well, that was interesting...
First off, I have to apologize to any folks who were expecting me in Austin for the slam last week (I'm sure I have a big fat "fuck you" coming my way, edzepplin.) Sadly, a road trip was just not in the cards, though I sure could have used it. With the excitement of the holidays over, but school not yet begun, I'm bored, restless and insomniac to boot.
In lieu of my desired travel plans, I decided to go for the once in a lifetime (God, I hope) experience of helping my boss lose almost three grand at the casino. Wheeee!
The evening, I swear, started out innocently. To celebrate her December graduation, I took my dear friend Emily out for sushi. After gorging ourselves on tuna and salmon, we hit the Academy branch of our restaurant to score free margaritas. From there it was back to the bar frequented by all my restaurant co-workers. It was there, of course, that the trouble began.
My general manager, let's call him Jim, has been haranguing Emily and I to accompany him to the casino for ages now. Having really nothing better to do, we finally caved, dragging two other guys with us.
Jim is a professional gambler. Managing the restaurant is really his second (taxable) income. After buying us all a round of drinks, he starts handing out fifty dollar bills. "Have fun kids," he tells us.
Now, I've never gambled, and the machines with the bright lights and the beeping sounds kinda freak me out, so I find myself standing next to Jim at the craps table while he wins thirty-two hundred dollars in less than half an hour. Holy freaking crap. My eyes must have been as big as the $25 dollar chips he collected by the handful.
Apparently that was just him warming up, because next thing he's parked us in front of a pair of three dollar slots and is feeding them hundreds. "Just keep pushing this button," he tells me, "I always win big on these machines."
It went well for a while, at one point I was up to almost a grand, but the slots soon became gaping black holes, sucking down hundreds of dollars so fast it took my breath away. I really started to panic after about two hours, but surrender was not an option. "Keep going," he said, "You're going to hit it soon." He was losing too, but that was of little consolation seeing as how it just meant he was losing twice as fast.
Well, I never hit the jackpot, though at that point it would have barely covered the money he had poured into the machine. At about four-thirty I crawled home, so buzzed on the caffeinated beverages they were handing out (no free liquor, this isn't Vegas, you know), that the slots were still spinning in my head five hours later.
Like I said though, Jim is a professional. He stayed on for a while longer and managed to recoup some of his losses (I think he walked out with about a thousand in the end) and still managed to show up for an 11 hour shift at nine in the morning. That, my friends, is hardcore.
At least now I can check "gamble with someone else's money" and "lose a shit ton of someone else's money" off my "things to do in life" list. I seriously doubt either of these things will occur ever again. Can I just tell you how much I would rather have been in Austin?
In lieu of my desired travel plans, I decided to go for the once in a lifetime (God, I hope) experience of helping my boss lose almost three grand at the casino. Wheeee!
The evening, I swear, started out innocently. To celebrate her December graduation, I took my dear friend Emily out for sushi. After gorging ourselves on tuna and salmon, we hit the Academy branch of our restaurant to score free margaritas. From there it was back to the bar frequented by all my restaurant co-workers. It was there, of course, that the trouble began.
My general manager, let's call him Jim, has been haranguing Emily and I to accompany him to the casino for ages now. Having really nothing better to do, we finally caved, dragging two other guys with us.
Jim is a professional gambler. Managing the restaurant is really his second (taxable) income. After buying us all a round of drinks, he starts handing out fifty dollar bills. "Have fun kids," he tells us.
Now, I've never gambled, and the machines with the bright lights and the beeping sounds kinda freak me out, so I find myself standing next to Jim at the craps table while he wins thirty-two hundred dollars in less than half an hour. Holy freaking crap. My eyes must have been as big as the $25 dollar chips he collected by the handful.
Apparently that was just him warming up, because next thing he's parked us in front of a pair of three dollar slots and is feeding them hundreds. "Just keep pushing this button," he tells me, "I always win big on these machines."
It went well for a while, at one point I was up to almost a grand, but the slots soon became gaping black holes, sucking down hundreds of dollars so fast it took my breath away. I really started to panic after about two hours, but surrender was not an option. "Keep going," he said, "You're going to hit it soon." He was losing too, but that was of little consolation seeing as how it just meant he was losing twice as fast.
Well, I never hit the jackpot, though at that point it would have barely covered the money he had poured into the machine. At about four-thirty I crawled home, so buzzed on the caffeinated beverages they were handing out (no free liquor, this isn't Vegas, you know), that the slots were still spinning in my head five hours later.
Like I said though, Jim is a professional. He stayed on for a while longer and managed to recoup some of his losses (I think he walked out with about a thousand in the end) and still managed to show up for an 11 hour shift at nine in the morning. That, my friends, is hardcore.
At least now I can check "gamble with someone else's money" and "lose a shit ton of someone else's money" off my "things to do in life" list. I seriously doubt either of these things will occur ever again. Can I just tell you how much I would rather have been in Austin?