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My Macau Trip Report 5/1- 5/3!
LONG write up - TLDR - I had a successful Macau trip. It's a little after 6pm in Macau and I've decided to shut the trip down and relax for the rest of the night. My flight back to Shanghai is tomorrow at 1pm. What an experience it's been so far. Day 1 - Wednesday I flew into Zhuhai on Wednesday night, and had hoped to catch people heading to the Macau bus, but everyone scattered and there were no tourists to follow. I went to the taxi line, got in a cab, and told the driver 'Macau, Macau'. He looked at me funny and after a minute of us trying to convince each other of something... he finally took off. An hour later, I'm dropped off at this train station looking place, where there's hordes of Asian people trying to cram through the gates. This is the Macau customs inspection point. I manage to get through and hop on a free shuttle bus to the Venetian. Upon my arrival, it's already past 10pm, so I take a look around and grab another taxi to head to my hotel, which is off the strip. Pretty uneventful day 1. I'm just glad I made it to my hotel in one piece lol. Day 2 - Thursday Couldn't sleep well last night. I woke up at around 8am and decided to head over to the Venetian. I ended up walking, but damn that was a mistake. It's a bit humid for the morning and I'm sweating by the time I get to the casino, which is about 2 miles away. I finally get to the Poker room at around 10am and there's a couple tables running and a list of about 10 people. That's not bad at all! I was expecting it to be busier. I get my name added to the list and now it's time to get some money out. There were 3 tables going with 50-100NL and 100-200NL. I think the USD to HKD exchange rate is about 1 to 7.85, so these are 6/12NL and 12/24 NL. Min buy for the 50/100 was 5K to 30K ($3,800 USD). The 100/200NL has a 20K min buy with no cap. I put my name down on the 50/100. I went to the ATM soon after and was only able to pull out 3k HKD at a time. After 5 ATM transactions, I manage to pull out 15k HKD and head back to the poker room, only to find out... I can't buy chips there. So back to the cage I go. LOL. Dammit. Ok, finally seated at the table after a short little wait. My first day can be summed up in 3 consecutive hands, which I'll get to. 50/100NL, Pre-flop action is typically 300 (first to act). I've seen a 3 bet go anywhere from 900-1.2k (this is HKD of course). I don't have too much experience playing 5/10 so I decided to play ABC and tight. Also, it was difficult to understand exactly how much $$ the pot was so I had to re-program my brain to just go off pot size rather than try to convert this to USD in my head. I think at my highest, I was sitting on 24k ($1.1K profit) and about 11k at the lowest. So all in all, not too bad. Next like 5-6 hours, I'm completely card dead and hovering around 16k. Then comes the trifecta of hands that make my evening. Hand 1 of 3 I'm starting to get tilted from no action, hungry because I haven't had anything to eat, and dizzy. Hero - 9s5s on button Villain - is on my direct right, and he's been a solid player all day. Pre-flop, 1 call, action around to Villain, who pops to the 300, Hero calls, SB calls, MP1 calls. Flop comes 6-6-10 (2 clubs). Checks to villain, who bets pot, 1.2k. I'm so bored out of my mind and energy fading at this point, I call 1.2k. Rest fold, it's heads up. Turn comes an off 8. He leads out for 2.2k. I realize I'm losing my mind, but I have no choice... I count out 2.2k, pause for a bit, then decide to go over the top for 5.2k. It's time to bluff this one or go home. He took about 30 seconds to think. I'm putting him on pocket Js or Qs. River is a off 2. Flush misses. He checks, I announce all-in for remaining ~9k. After about 2 minutes of making me sweat, he folds. I flip it up, cuz I'm feeling re-energized and the whole table explodes in laughter. Villain turns to me and says "a bluff?!" Then I can see his shoulders slouch and he avoids eye contact. Couple Chinese guys come over to give me a fist bump and start asking me where I'm from. I say California. This will be important later. Hand 2 of 3 Very next hand. Button is now to my left. UTG calls for 100, MP makes it 400 to go, I call 400 with Ad8d, UTG 3 bets to 1.2, MP folds, I call. It's heads up, and one of the Chinese guy says "bluff again!" in broken English. Flop Ah Qh 8s UTG Checks around to me, I put in a bet of 1.2k. He raises it to 3.75. I call. Turn is a off suit 7. No help. He grabs a stack and puts out 5.5k. He started with about 30k so he's got me covered. I take my time and put out 5.5k. Off to the river. River comes 6 off suit, no flush. He pauses for 5 seconds, then announces all in. I have about 12k in front of me and feel sick. I tank for a minute... then convince myself of a call because of one thing. When he sat down, his buddies ridiculed him in Cantonese (I think), which I couldn't understand, but picked up the words bluff, bluff, bluff over and over again. Just went with that piece of info as the icing on the cake and decided to call it off. He doesn't flip right away, so I flip A-8. He tables K-Q a second after. The entire table goes ape shit. My neighbor says "Hero bluff, Hero call!" One guy starts chanting 'USA, USA', LMAO! More people are talking in English now and interested in talking to me. Hand 3 of 3 It's the last of the 3 hands before I get up soon after... and it's a bit uneventful, but hilarious nevertheless. I'll make it short, but essentially UTG is tilted and decides to spew the rest of his 7.5k stack off pre-flop. I think he's small or big blind at this point and he goes all in when it comes around. I have pocket Jacks LOL. Insta-Call. The whole table erupts in laughter again. On a side note, the poker table vibe was very chill versus how it is in US. I don't know if they know each other or not, but the mood is very casual and people make fun of each other. It's hilarious. One guy who spoke poor English told me he thought I was a robot, because they were all crackin jokes and he said I never laughed. When he found out I wasn't Chinese, he was like OHHHHhhh. (I've been told I look Chinese) Anyways, everyone says face up, so I flip Jacks and UTG decides to play it down. Board runs out 10 high. He turns over pocket Queens! LMAOOOOOO... the mob says money back! money back! Everyone is happy. I can't remember if I play a couple more or not, but decide to color up soon after and go eat dinner. It's 6pm, raining outside... taxi line is about 200 people deep. I walk back in the rain. Day 3 (Today!) Not as exciting as yesterday, but was another good day. I took a cab to the Wynn... only to find out the Wynn near Venetian doesn't have Poker. The Wynn up north has the Poker room. I didn't know there were 2 Wynn casinos here LOL. WTF. Forget it, I decide to walk back to the Venetian again. Once I get to the Venetian, 10am and there's a list of 25 people for 50/100. Mother of God... By noon, they still haven't opened any new tables and the list is 60 people deep. Finally, dealers stroll in and they quickly open up 3 new 50/100 tables. I manage to get seated by 1pm. I was #27. The table today is a lot weaker than the one I played last night. Guys were doing funny things like doubling the blind by the big blind after it gets around, LOL (maybe it was just this one guy). Players had interesting bet sizings. very little aggression. No one tried to steal pots. It was very weak tight gameplay. I was able to push people off pots once my chip stack got bigger. I ended up cashing out positive again today for a short 3 hour session. For the trip, I played about 10-11 hours. Started with my original 15k HKD and cashed for 64k HKD, for a profit of a little over 49k HKD ($6.2k USD). On my walk back to the hotel, I managed to find this currency exchange window called P&W, and exchanged everything back to USD. They gave me a pretty good exchange rate, so I'm a bit confused how they make money... oh well. In summary... it was a good trip. Sorry the write up was long. If an idiot like me can make it to Macau, play poker and make it back... you can too. And you'll probably make money. I literally did little to no research.
Previously They don’t like my plan. It involves visiting an old enemy. A very old enemy. “We’re going to a floating casino, known as a bastion of vice and not so much virtue.” Sana asks, flicking switches as she eases the rust bucket Comos towards one of the many docking bays of the Aureus. “A more wretched hive.” I quip. No one laughs. Couple thousand years and apparently human culture disappears. It then dawns on me that I’m wrong. They haven’t lost their culture, they just don’t find me as hilarious as I do. Also they’re occupied with the good news that we are going to hunt down a Death killer. That should scare me more than it does. Sana eases the ship into the bay, where through her screens we see a good half dozen men and women in very fine suits waiting for us. Someone tattled. Now this, this world I remember. Take away the spaceships and give me the men in suits with conspicuous bulges where guns are poorly hidden. I know this world, far better than I know the one of spacefaring humanity and Death killers. “They look warm and fuzzy.” Warder notes and for the first time I see the unease in her. She’s quit her job. She’s a nobody now. No authority, living on the edge! I can’t wait to see what she does next. “They do!” I exclaim, clapping my hands together. It startles them. I feel alive. I point to Rence and Warder. “You two, with me! Have Max and Pea meet us there!” And I bound off through the ship, excited for this. Oh I feel it in my bones, things are turning around. Things are going to start going my way. I wait at the cargo bay door while it lowers on rusty gears, squealing in the space that would usually contain far nicer vessels. The group of suits is there, waiting. A man stands in the lead, no more than two steps in front of them. He is fit, very fit. He wears a red silk shirt, open at the collar to reveal a black metal necklace that disappears behind the fine material. On his cheek is a tattoo, writhing black lines that begin on the lower rim of his eye socket and crawl down his cheek to disappear where his collar meets his neck. I happen to know it explodes into a beautiful and artistic mess on his entire back and chest, as well as wrapping down his right arm. His pants are a gray so dark it’s almost black, along with the open jacket. He does not bother to hide the weapon there, the polished silvery finish of a pistol nestled in a holster under his armpit. He stands with arms crossed, straining the material of his shirt and jacket with a calm ease that makes me feel inferior. He’s always been good at that. “Wrath!” I greet him. He smiles, a cool smile of an unimpressed man. I take two steps and stand before him, trying to be as gentlemanly as I can be. “It’s been a long time, Death.” He says, tilting his head towards Rence and Warder. “You brought friends. And then some! Pesty, no less.” “Ratty.” Pea joins us, smiling most pleasantly at our cousin. “Nice reunion, now time to go.” Wrath says, one finger tapping on his weapon as if begging us to try something. “We just want to talk.” I say, holding my hands apart to appease him. No sudden movements. He shakes his head and sighs and I very suddenly find myself on my ass with at least one broken bone in my face. There are many guns in many hands in the blink of an eye and lots of shouting besides. A soft voice cuts through the shouting, that is the gravitas of the man speaking. “Enough of that.” He could not be more opposite the one that punched me. His hair is a blinding white, carefully coiffed in place. A goatee that is more white than black is the only facial hair, the rest has been carefully shaved off with a straight razor. His skin is clean, if wrinkled. His shirt is a patterned green. A black and gold tie completes his outfit. He too wears a suit but without any indicator of a weapon. His wrinkled and gnarled hand rests on a cane, polished white ivory with an glimmering ebony handle. “Greed.” I say, with all deference. The suits have holstered their weapons and Wrath sulks about that. That’s his whole shtick, sulking. He and War would be fast friends if they could stand each other. Greed ambles down towards us, one bony finger pointed at me. “I said I would kill you!” “That was thousands of years ago!” I protest. He doesn’t slow down, walking until his finger sinks into my chest and pushes against my skin. Then he looks me up and down and sneers, clearly disgusted by my appearance. I would take offense if I wasn’t so sure I was wearing a dead man’s mechanic overalls. A single polishes platinum tooth still sits in that mouth of perfectly white teeth. His hand shakes and then the finger drops away. He sighs. “I don’t even remember what our fight was about.” I do. But I’m not going to remind him. I’m not that stupid. “Come, come. You are my guests here.” He directs his words at Wrath. Wrath is less than pleased with that but he will respect the rules. He’ll probably beat one of his minions to death over it but they’re hardly worth calling human. Their minds have been broken in service to their master. Just like anyone that works on this ship. They are more like members of tribes or clans than anything else. Each tribe has a purpose and they spend half their time infighting rather than achieving it. A thousand years ago they ruled a town of lights, money, and avarice. Now they rule the same thing, just in space. Greed leads us out of the docking area, his cane tapping on the floor. This is the servant’s entrance, as it were. Clean and proper but not the opulent entrance used for the big spenders. The important ones. “Your family does not like us.” Greed offers up the observation, both to Pea and I. We walk beside him, myself on the left and tiny Pea on the right. We walk just a pace behind him, our version of respect. He tilts his head at us, his eyes absent any sign that the age in his body shows. He could choose any form and he chose this. Disarming, he once explained. Everyone wants to give the kindly elderly man their pocketbook. “What makes you say that?” I ask. He swats at my shin with the cane. I jump back and suck air between my teeth. Rence and Warder follow behind us, Wrath bringing up the rear. All the suits have scattered, now that the king has arrived. “I say that because it is true. Your sister wanted to burn us out because we are the opposite of what she is! We fuel the nature of man, she seeks to temper it. Silly girl. War, that one just wants us to burn.” He stops at a massive door of wrought gold, at least twice as tall as any man. He knocks his cane against it and it opens with barely a sound, nothing like the “whoosh” of those old doors on the Comos. The hallway is polished marble, a white floor with swirls of beautiful black and purple running through it. Plush red carpets sit in the middle of the corridor, gold and platinum chandeliers hang at even intervals to light the space. Men and women in suits and dresses mill by, holding crystal goblets or glasses of various liquids. Some wear masks, others carry trays of delicacies, some are almost entirely nude. This is just a hallway. I hear the raucous sounds of music to the left of the door and the telltale cacophony of gamblers to the right. Somewhere beyond all that will be a buffet of the finest foods available, still beyond that will be an orgy of flesh for the taking, and still somewhere else will be a dimly lit room where men and women beat each other into bloody messes. Something for everyone. “Nice place you’ve got here.” I say. Greed rolls his eyes. He leads us through the masses of the fabulously rich, guiding us and weaving through them as if they were nothing more than distractions. To him, they are. Rence drifts off course and I have to reach back and grab his arm. Warder does not falter, except to gape at the sights and sounds. Steaming trays of meats wrapped in flaky pastry pass by and she steals one. I smack it out of her hand to the floor, where a man in a very fine suit and a Venetian mask throws himself after it. He shoves it in his mouth and a moment later is standing again, laughing with his friends and wife as if that had never happened. “Don’t eat anything. Don’t touch anything. Don’t do anything.” The edge in my voice surprises even me. Greed’s eyes sparkle when he looks at me, holding open a black and gold curtain just off the main hallway. “Oh poor Death, won’t you just try a taste?” I duck under the curtain and find myself in an almost tasteful hallway. The others come with, still following Greed through the winding pathway of the ship. From the outside it is shaped like a circle, a squashed sphere. I expect that there are seven main rooms, corresponding to a master. Hallways connect these rooms and create an endless buffet of vice. Humans do love endless vice. Greed stops at a door and taps his cane against a pad, where a green light flashes and the door opens upward to reveal a room. There is large table with a cutout in the center, so the table is shaped like the letter C. There is an opening that allows someone to enter the center and be seen by all in attendance. On the perimeter of the room are plush chairs. Pea takes Max, Warder and Rence to the chairs. Some day I have to figure out what to do with this Reaper. He is one of my employees, after all. Some day I’ll have to track down the others. A task for later. For now my attention has to fall on the seven seated figures. Greed takes his chair at the opposite end of the opening in the C, the head of the table as it were. Wrath sits to his left. Beside Wrath is Pride. Pride is a handsome man, there’s no denying it. He has a permanent dusting of stubble to give him that “sexy” look, square jaw and hair shaved close on the sides of his head with a much longer length on the top, pushed back in place. He doesn’t wear a suit jacket but instead wears a dress shirt with an open collar. I wonder how long it took for him to settle on this look. The flaw in Pride is that no matter how much time he takes to decide, someone will hate it and he will hate that. I once saw him punch a mirror until blood drenched his hands because a human made a comment about a stray hair on his collar. Beside Pride is Envy. A perfect pair. Envy is a loathsome little woman with blond hair that never quite looks right. His shirt matches Wrath’s, his watch Greed’s, his shoes Pride’s. She eyes me up and down, looking for something to covet. She always looks on edge, ready to unravel. She also loves to steal from people. They make up the ones that don’t like me. How convenient of them to sit at the table in groups. To the right of Greed sits Lust. She also eyes me but with different intent than Envy. Her hair is pulled up into a towel and she’s wearing a soft looking bathrobe. She looks like she was just pulled from a shower. If you look back in human history there are Sirens, beautiful women that pulled sailors to their deaths with their looks and songs. Evil creatures. Lust would fit right in with them, although she’s not evil. Just conniving. To her right is Gluttony. Well, he would be, except he’s at the food tables piling a plate with food and toting a giant beer in his free hand. He’s a tall man, a big man but not a fat one. Just a big man. He just loves to eat is all. He smiles at me once he sits, offering a beer. If there was any one of the Seven I would accept food from, it would be Gluttony. He’s actually quite nice to be around. To his right is an empty chair. That would be Sloth. She’ll come in sometime in the middle of whatever we’re going to be doing here. It’s not that she’s lazy it’s just that she prefers to lounge. Her kingdom was at it’s peak during the 21st century. Admittedly, most of them peaked around then. She’ll be wearing comfortable clothes and her jet black hair will be a mess, she’ll apologize but she won’t mean it. The Seven. Deadly sins. Somewhere out there will be the “other Seven” but they don’t stick together. It’s a weird thing about the virtuous, they seem to love being the martyred ones. “Well, if it isn’t Death. Been a while, how was your time away?” Pride’s voice is the most grating thing I have ever experienced. It makes me want to leap the table and throttle the life out of him, leave his soul forever hanging in the ether. Especially since I know that he had some part in what happened. I expect at least three of them did. “It was less than relaxing, thank you. You’ve got a nose hair there, by the way. Just a little…icky.” His face literally darkens, his eyes promise violence. And I thought Wrath was bad. They’ve all got a little of each other in them somewhere. Pride also digs out a small kit and begins tearing at hairs with a pair of tweezers. It’s satisfying, if a bit petty. Lust winks at me, her appreciation for the show. Gluttony just shovels a mouthful of something into his gullet. Envy smiles just the slightest bit. Wrath seethes, as is his way. Greed sighs. “Death, while we are in this room you have my protection. Welcome to the Aureus. Once this meeting is over we will have made a decision.” “On what?” Warder pipes in, apparently unable to contain herself anymore. Rence shrugs when I glare at him. We have to have a talk about the responsibilities of his position. “On whether to blow the lot of you into space with nothing but your thoughts for company and keep this one here as a sideshow.” Wrath appears to have his personal choice made. “Or to release you, with the help that he wants.” Greed ruins Wrath’s day with that addition. So here I stand, yet again before a panel that is going to judge me worthy of continuing to live. I don’t like it. I have been on the run since coming out of that box. I’m tired of getting kicked while I’m down. I’m tired of being looked at like others can decide my fate. I am Death, I am no one’s bitch. “You’re going to help us, you’re going to let us go, and you’re going to do it with a smile.” I say. That gets their attention. Wrath openly laughs at me. “Why would we do that?” Greed asks, resting his hands on the top of the table. He is intrigued at least. “If you don’t-” I remove a small object from my pocket and press my thumb against it. Somewhere in the ship alarms will begin blaring at security people when their readings begin to go insane. Sana and Kelly promised me that it would do that. Greed tilts his head as if hearing a message, which I expect he is. “- then I take my thumb off this and your pretty ship gets a brand new door, right to the outside! And less of a door than it is a giant hole.” “Threatening us?!” Wrath is up out of his seat and grabbing for his weapon. “You started it.” I say, truly offended. “Enough!” Greed shouts, actually shouts. Wrath doesn’t sit, not right away. Not until he meets Greed’s eyes. That gets him to sit down and be quiet. “Sit, stay, good boy.” I say. Wrath hits me around the chest and we both go down to the ground. Rence is faster than I thought, driving his knee into the side of Wrath’s head with all the force of his not insubstantial weight behind it. Wrath’s lights go out in an instant. Reapers have another benefit. If a mortal hit Wrath he’d shrug it off. Reapers aren’t totally mortal. Wrath does not just shrug it off. There is lots of shouting, nothing more from Wrath though, and Greed calls for quiet. Once there is calm in the room again, Rence dragging Wrath away from the table, Greed acquiesces to my threat. “Fine. We’ll help you. But Famine and War, they die. Nothing short of that. Understood?” I won’t tell them that Sana and Kelly just rigged up a device to make it look like the ship’s reactor was going to overload on my command. No need to give up all the tricks. Sometimes a bluff is the way to go. Especially if you have no cards. The door opens and Sloth struts in, looking down at Wrath and then up at the rest of us. “Huh.” She says. “What’d I miss?”
I am currently in Vegas visiting family and I've been spending some time at the 1/2 tables (some locals casinos near Henderson but mostly in the Venetian). I have been trying to employ a basic tight aggressive ABC style playing only premium pocket pairs and high suited connectors but I find when I am able to play a hand once every hour or two and I don't hit the flop I am constantly bullied out by deeper stacked and more aggressive players, forcing me to fold. I have lost about 800 or so at 1/2 which comprises 8 $100 dollar buy ins using this strategy. Could it be possible I am running terribly and this is natural variance or am I just likely being outplayed by more skilled and aggressive players? It seems that they are playing very loosely and when I commit and stand my ground they often hit 2 pairs or strange straights with much much weaker holdings
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Macau is a breathtaking island home to numerous tourist attractions. Gaming and gambling are also a major factor that attracts large numbers of tourists to Macau. This fine paradise island features with a variety of boutiques and meeting hotels in Macau offers a luxurious gambling experience with numerous slots and games like blackjack, roulette, poker, etc. The city offers various attraction points like The Venetian, museums, Senado Square, Taipa Village, cybernetic fountain show, etc. However, among all, The Venetian hotel is the largest and most popular casino with approximate 550 gaming tables and 2000 slot machines that allow the game-lovers to come and try their luck and also to put some money in their pockets. https://preview.redd.it/74oko09syfr21.jpg?width=600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=57d370134ea154d2fd76f0a87a29f31a3d771002 The best way to spend your vacations in Macau is to book a Deluxe Room in Macau hotel and enjoy its hospitality and services as much as possible during the trip. The services are of these hotels are outstanding that ensures you to give a wonderful time with your family and loved ones without any fear or stress. The cost of these Deluxe Room in Macau is also nominal that attracts anyone pockets and needs. You can easily book through any travel agent and companies. hence, it's an advice please book any of the hotel services, after clearing your all doubts and grabbing all necessary offers and discounts. This will help you to enjoy more and more in Macau without spending enough amount or making a hole in your tight budget pocket.
[Storymode], and this was written with the approval of Mint's author! Enjoy! New York City, New York Theme Prima “Mr. Cross?” The voice is tinny through the speaker, but still largely understandable. Sitting in a glass encased conference room from a rented New York office, Barrett scribbles on a notepad with beautiful white quill, as Dimitri takes more thorough notes, clacking away on a laptop. “Yes, this is. May I ask who is calling?” “Oh, of course. This is Investigator Cornfield speaking, Clark County Sheriff’s department.” Oh, fuck. Barrett raises an eyebrow to Dimitri, who quickly shifts tactics, doing a search of Saints activities within Clark County; it’d be just his luck of late to have one of hi men getting picked up for not being able to hold their booze and taking a swing at a cop. As the search continues, Investigator Cornfield continues speaking. “We have on record that you’re in charge of the investment of Ms. Lillian Mint and her family, correct?“ “Yes, I am. Why?” Curious, Barrett leans forward to the speaker phone. Piqued, he genuinely wants to know more, regardless of the odd look he’s getting from Dimitri. “We recently had a situation occur that will have affected the flow of Ms. Lillian Mint’s money. We wished for you to know this so you don’t see anything unusual and worry.” “Investigator, you can’t just say that. What situation? What happened?” Barrett’s tone gets sharper as he’s teased with pieces of information, each kept tantalizingly far away from his “That is up Ms. Lillian Mint to disclose. For now, the information is being kept within the family. Thank you for your understanding. For any additional questions, please contact Clark County Sheriff’s Department at-” “I have questions now! Have you talked to Mint? Where is she? Is she oka-” CLICK The death knell of the phone drones through the room, as Barrett scowls at the conference phone, his hand letting his quill pen drop to the notepad. With an icy calmness, he pushes the notepad far from him before he stands and reaches for his walking stick beside him. Dimitri, knowing what’s going to happen, quickly closes his laptop and rolls away from the table. Barrett, taking one step away from the table, sharply pivots and brings the cane down in a shattering crack upon the phone, a howl of anger and frustration escaping his lips as the plastic of the phone cracks beneath the bronze cap of the cane. CRASH! Silence reigns before Barrett speaks once more. Shoulders shaking and breath ragged, his voice is surprisingly calm. “Dimitri, get me a flight to Vegas, please.” “-and yes, I need your help -What? Fine, please help me.” Barrett says into the cellphone, rolling his eyes. Seems karma truly does work, as he’s talking himself in a round circle from an earlier experience. Still, the response he gets is at least favorable. “Alright, I’ll see you in the lobby of the Venetian, cutie.” A foxish voice giggles through the phone. “And don’t keep me waiting, I hate that.” Las Vegas, Nevada Theme Secunda Landing in Vegas, Barrett grimaces. A good twenty degrees warmer, but at least it’s dry and sunny. Flagging down a taxi, the Child of Momus directs them to the Venetian. As the taxi fights its way through the slog of pedestrians and vehicles, Barrett pulls out his phone, reviewing what facts he has. With Dimitri doing homework for him back in New York, there’s a small portfolio waiting for him. Apparently, Mint’s mother Helena had not withdrawn any money in the past several days. For ease of access and security, her monthly stipend was handled through a separate account, just to keep channels clear. Other benefits were rapidly becoming apparent as well, as Barrett can see that there has been no interaction with the money since it was placed in. Normally, Helena was very prompt with accessing the money; as if she didn’t trust Mint’s loan shark of a friend. A fair assessment for an outsider honestly, but it’s helped bring things into disarray here. Why hasn’t she withdrawn the money? Just what happened? His reverie is interrupted as the car stops in front the casino in question.. Barrett’s grimace only deepens as he sees the sight. “She literally could not have chosen a more inconspicuous place…” He mutters, before looking at the surroundings. The Mirage on one side, Circus Circus down the block… alright, maybe they could be somewhere more conspicuous. Possibly. Barrett clambers out of the car, tipping the driver and bringing out his heavy suitcase. He’s blushing all the while, he can’t believe that he’s had to do this to make it work… But, it’ll be worth it if it does work. Rolling the suitcase behind him, the young man enters the casino. Luckily, he doesn’t have long to wait. The young woman lounging on a couch near the massive doors looks up from her phone, her warm eyes bright as she leaps up from her seat and all but tackles Barrett in a hug. “Hey cutie. I didn’t think you’d show up.” She murmurs into his ear, smirking as she quickly pulls away and watches Barrett’s rose-tinted kaleidoscope of expressions. “Uh, of c-course I would, we’re going… going to do some work.” He manages, giving a nervous smile as he takes fluttering steps to the counter. One check-in later, and the two are being shown to their suite midway up the the massive tower. Once inside, Barrett collapses into a surprisingly comfortable armchair, while Fatimah perches herself upon the arm of it, one leg crossed over the other. Silence echoes through the room before Fatimah, ever the bold one, takes the first step, breaking through the ice. “So… what’s this job of yours, Barrett?” As if asking about the weather, she broaches the topic easily, like this is a rehearsed line from a play. “Unless this about the… cashing in your bet?” Now it’s her turn to flush a bit, and for Barrett to blush a deeper red as well. “N-no, this is… it’s about a friend. A client of mine, she’s gone missing… and something happened to her mother, I think.” “Oh, really? Tell me more.” Fatimah inquires, dropping from her perch on the chair of the arm to go to the minifridge and pull out a bottle of water. Barrett nods, before continuing. “So, I’m in charge of her estate’s finances… and her mother typically receives a monthly stipend… but it hasn’t been touched yet. Then, I received a call from the Sheriff’s Department here, that her finances may come into rough water. When I asked more about it, they said that I needed to talk to Mint… But how do you talk to a person who’s been missing for weeks?” Barrett mumbles this last part to himself and the floor his eyes downcast. Taking a sip of water, Fatimah wanders back to him and tousles his hair before crouching down beside him. A small smile crosses her face as she looks up at him with gentle, brown eyes. “Alright, I understand… but what’s the plan, Barrett? How’re we going to help her?” Barrett can’t help but notice the faint strain on the word ‘her’ as Fatimah says it. Jealousy is felt in all people, it seems. Still, the pang that follows makes him grimace. Her feelings won’t make this any easier. “Well… I’m going to need you to disguise yourself as her.” Barrett pulls out his phone, and pulls up a picture of himself and Mint, faces ridiculous and silly. It took a bit of work, but he’d managed to get it off of the Big House’s antique of a computer and on his phone, a note of personal pride. Still, Fatimah doesn’t seem convinced, if the frown is anything to go by. She looks from the picture to him with an ever-deepening frown. “Barrett, I hate to tell you the immediate flaw in this plan, but-” “Oh, that I can take care of,” he assures her, slowly pulling himself out of the chair. “That is, if you trust me.” “...I do.” She nods, and both finally smile, nervous and excited at the same time. “Alright, then I need you hold out your arms for me, and look straight ahead.” Barrett nods, as Fatimah does as instructed. Slowly, his hands trace above her, never touching as he works his magic. Minutes pass, but finally, Mint stands before him. At least, in appearance. Brown eyes become blue, and her headscarf has been infused with the Mist to appear as a sheaf of flowing blonde hair. A tear slips down his face as he works, and it doesn’t escape Fatimah’s notice. Smirking a bit, she playfully teases the Child of Mockery. “Is this that hard to do that you’re crying, Barrett?” “No, it’s not that… just that there’s a lot of feelings.” He admits, raising his arm to dab away the tears before continuing to work. “...What do you mean, a ‘lot of feelings?’” Fatimah asks, in a surprisingly acidic tone. Hearing those words come from Mint, and the frown crossing her face, Barrett tries to quickly change tracks. “Ummm… well, you look great as a blonde!” And in that moment, Barrett realizes that was the decidedly wrong thing to say. Turning in a huff, Fatimah goes and locks herself in the bathroom. Barrett quickly goes to the door, knocking on it. “Oh, Fatimah, that’s not how I meant it!!” “Right, that’s why you said it after showing me that picture!” She says, her voice muffled through the door. Barrett’s face is a mix of concern, confusion, and just an overall grimace of displeasure at himself. “I was just saying that… Oh, dammit… Look, I screwed up, okay? I shouldn’t have said that, especially after you didn’t look like you. I’m sorry.” Take that one to the bank, it’s probably worth more than the Saints funding, an apology from Barrett Cross. Silence is the reply, before Fatimah speaks once more. “...I want a picture of us like that.” “Umm… okay.” Barrett replies to the quiet demand, relieved that it could be resolved that simply. A moment, then two pass before Mint… no, Fatimah unlocks the door and manages a small smile. “Alright… let’s get to work then, cutie.” Clark County Sheriff’s Department Theme Tertia Barrett and Mint make their way into the building, faces set in grim determination. A temporary plan had been set into motion during the cab ride there; Barrett’s going to do the talking, be the overbearing lawyer to his distraught client. Once inside, Barrett goes to the front desk, ringing the dainty bell to get the secretary’s attention. As she looks up, an expression of shock and terror crosses her face. Barrett’s used to that, but here? He’s never been to Vegas before. “He-he-Helena??” The secretary stammers, prompting a look from Fatimah to Barrett, who quickly interjects. “Lillian Mint to see Investigator Cornfield.” The woman looks from from Barrett and then to Fatimah, her expression raising questions as to whether or not she should doubt that ghosts are real. Stuttering, she manages a shaky reply. “Oh! O-of course, sir… But who are you?” “Oh, I’m Barrett Cross, her personal lawyer and financier. Number is 0224223, if you need to check.” He says with a small laugh. The ID isn’t one for Nevada, but for a lawyer in a New York firm. Surely he won’t be too worried about an incidental case like this. The woman nods, pressing a button on her desk phone. “Investigator, you have two people to see you. A Mister Cross, and Miss Mint- huh, yes, that Mint, by her looks. Just like her mother.” She pauses a few times, nodding and replying as appropriate before returning the phone to its cradle and looking back to the pair before her and gesturing to a door down the hall. “The right at the end of the hall, he’ll be expecting you. Would either of you care for tea, water? A snack?” An odd stare crosses her face as she looks up at Fatimah. Looking rather uncomfortable with the woman’s gaze on her, she offers a shrug. “Umm… water and some graham crackers, I guess?” Barrett raises an eyebrow at this, doing his best to hide a faint smirk as he sets down the hall. “Come along, Miss Mint. We shouldn’t keep the Investigator waiting. Surely he’s a busy man.” He calls as Fatimah follows along. Partway down the hall, Barrett offers a small chuckle. “Graham crackers? Why not ask for a juice box too- ow, hey!” A sharp punch to the upper arm is his reward, as Fatimah glowers at him with Mint’s blue eyes. “I like graham crackers, what’s your point?” She says in a dangerously quiet voice. Barrett, deciding to be diplomatic about this, simply goes to the door and holds it open for her. Inside, a man with salt and pepper hair rises to his feet, a careworn smile crossing a face that is apparently on passing terms with a razor, if the stubble gracing his cheeks is anything to go by. Stepping up, he offers a hand first to Fatimah, then to Barrett. A strong confident grip for a man in his prime. “Miss Mint, and Mister Cross, a pleasure to see you both, thank you for taking the time to to come and talk with me. Please, take a seat.” He gestures to a pair of wooden chairs across from his leather office chair. The pair are seated, as the man continues, “Now, I’ve got to say, you have been a most challenging young woman to get ahold of, Lillian. We’ve tried calling for days, and haven’t had any luck.” “Yeah, well, bootcamp isn’t exactly a place that gets the best reception.” Fatimah shrugs, toying with a lock of her blonde hair. “Funny, we even called the bootcamp and demanded to talk with you, but…. Well, we didn’t get you, can you explain that?” The question is an idle one, but the Investigator's eyes show far more than his casual expression does. As Fatimah tries to remember Mint’s upbringing, Barrett takes the time to jump in. “She’s been out on leave of late, Investigator,” he explains. “What with her grandmother’s death and the exchange of power her dynasty is going through, it’s understandable, honestly. We, meaning her executors and myself, thought it best to keep her fortune out of the picture. We don’t want anyone thinking she’s better than she actually is.” Oooh, the withering glance there is enough to tan Barrett’s arms through the suit, as Fatimah glowers at him. The Investigator simply laughs, nodding along before clicking on a few things on his computer. “Ah, of course, that’s completely understandable then, yes. As for you Mister Cross… We ran a search on your name as well, and found some most interesting information about some escapades in King County up in Seattle… Know anything about those.” “I can’t say that I have,” Barrett lies effortlessly, the words flowing like honey from his lips to the Investigator's ears. The man nods in a daze for a second or two, before the secretary returns, water bottles and a sleeve of graham crackers in hand. Smiling, she hands the treat to Fatimah, and puts a water bottle down beside each guest. That seems to draw the Investigator out of his reverie, and he leans forward to ask another question. “That’s not all you’re eating, is it?” Throwing Fatimah off-guard, she shrugs before slowly answering. “...Yes?” It’s not like she was expecting a full meal or anything here. The Investigator sighs softly as he watches her open the sleeve and start nibbling at one of the crackers. “I guess you’re more like your mother than just appearances would suggest… Why’s it always the pretty ones who starve themselves?” He sighs, his question punctuated by a sharp crunch as Fatimah snaps off the cracker. Luckily, Barrett interposes himself before a sharp retort is issued. “Helena starved herself?” Well, that was certainly news, to say the least. Barrett leans forward as well, unintentionally mirroring the Investigator's position. “Well, it’s not the official cause of death…” he notes, before looking to Fatimah. “But first I have questions that I need to know the answers to… Like how Lillian was the last person to see Detective Acrobat before he was murdered here in Vegas… Nowhere near where she was stationed. Care to help out, Miss Mint?” Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Barrett has no clue of the right answer to this, Mint’s been gone for too long. How can Fatimah know? Still, the woman keeps her cool, before carefully replying. “He was bringing me to see my mother, he said. Said that he had a surprise for her, and wanted me to be with. Why wouldn’t I go with him? Oh, and I know that I’m not supposed to sit in the front seat of a squad car, so that’s why I was in back.” Clever girl, Barrett thinks. It’s all he can do to not smirk as the Investigator continues his line of questioning. “And why you ran from a murder scene?” A murder? Just what happened to Mint that she was in police custody and getting involved in murders? Again, Fatimah has an answer. “Well, after Acrobat… you know, I was… I was scared, alright? I just watched someone get shot… and wasn’t at bootcamp. Do you think I wanted to deal with that, too?” She crosses her arms looking back up at the Investigator who nods, pulling back. “I see… I always thought that Helena had raised a more… stoic daughter. You were so quiet and well-behaved the last time you were here with her,” Cornfield notes with a raised eyebrow, prompting an interjection from Barrett. “Sir, my client’s character isn’t something in question here. She’s been in bootcamp for several months,there’s little reason not expect some degree of change in temperament.” He points out, casually scanning the man for a few of his tics, as well. Barrett has to cover his face with hand to mask the smile that crosses his face. Someone is… well, was bothered by Acrobat, and if the mother is anything like the daughter, he knows why. Man, he’d even feel a sense of kindred spirit with this man in a different life. Cornfield continues on regardless of Barrett’s silent discovery. “That may be, sir,” a stinging tone is drawn through it, “but I cannot excuse her actions, nor do I believe that Hele- Lillian would do such a thing,” he hurriedly corrects himself midway through, but he wasn’t quick enough to cover that cue from Barrett, who quickly puts up a retort, looking like an amused housecat all the while. “I think you’re projecting some feelings onto my client that you shouldn’t be, Investigator.” Barrett notes with his classic crocodile smile. “What business is it of hers just how much like her mother you think she should be?” “It’s that way because, uh… I mean, I didn’t mean to-” Barrett watches the Investigator finally sweat, to feel what he and Fatimah felt during the beginning of the meeting. When the Investigator stutters into silence, wheels having spun into the mud, Barrett speaks once more. “Look, it’s none of my business, but you’re being pretty hard on Miss Mint, if you ask me. She witnessed a murder. And yes, she ran. What testimony could she provide if she was that blinded by terror, to the degree that Helena’s training failed her? I’m personally glad that she chose to flee, I’d hate for more blood to be on someone’s hands because of foolish pride.” Barrett’s tone is soft and gentle, perhaps even a bit conspiratorial with the man sitting across from him. “We want to help how we can, but we don’t know anything...can you imagine how Lillian feels here, you haven’t even told her what happened to her mother, Investigator. Please, the only way we can help is if you help us… For Helena.” He gives an appeal to the emotional tie he’s confident that the Investigator has, knowing how he’d respond if someone came to him in such a way regarding the junior Mint. A moment or two passes, before Cornfield finally nods, acquiescing. “Alright… I’m sorry, Lillian. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” A chastened man, Cornfield hangs his head low as he offers Fatimah the apology. She nods gently, looking at Barrett in surprise. This was a far cry from the criminal she knew from Seattle. “Now, can you tell us what happened to Helena, please?” Barrett inquires, as Cornfield draws in a shaky sigh. “...She’s dead, first off. Killed her partner, er, ex-partner, and then herself. She quit the force a few days ago, after not showing up, no calls, nothing. We have no clue where she was before that, the number was blocked and we can’t get a bead on the location itself; she could’ve been calling from a block away, or halfway to France for as much as we know,” he says with a heavy sigh. “As for reasons… well, that’s why we wanted to talk to you, Lillian,” he turns to Fatimah, a frown crossing his weary face, “You say that Acrobat wanted to surprise your mother? Did he say what that surprise was, or did he do anything unusual?” “No… not that I recall.” Fatimah says quietly, and is rewarded with another sigh from Cornfield. “I suppose not… that would’ve been too easy. I’m going to be frank with you, Lillian, Mister Cross… We’re looking at a murder suicide, here. With Helena shooting Acrobat, then herself. We’re operating on the belief of mental instability prompting this. The starvation and sudden withdrawal following the death of your grandmother seems to make that a logical conclusion for us… Not that it makes things easier to hear, by any means. We’ve lost two good people.. And I hate to think that it’s because of one of my officers…” A lethargic sigh escapes him as Fatimah looks to Barrett, before she speaks up. “Investigator...I think I left a few things when I ran away… Was anything found?” “Hmm… oh, unfortunately not.” Cornfield shakes from his reverie, working to get back to the task at hand. “Wait...we do have one thing that’s unusual…” Pressing a button on his phone, he speaks slowly and clearly. “Miss Marni, please bring me what we found outside the factory.” A few moments pass, and a plastic bag is delivered to the office. Inside, a single, snowy white feather rests. A few flecks of red can be seen on the outer edge, but it is unmistakably from Mint’s plumage. Cornfield looks from it to Fatimah, gesturing it out to her. “The blood is Detective Acrobat’s… is this your feather? We didn’t find anything else there, so I’m not sure where you lost it, if not there…” “No… it’s not mine. Why would I have a feather?” Fatimah questions, but Barrett’s mind is running in overdrive. She was here, Mint was here. But… now she’s not. If there’s blood, something happened… Would her mom kills someone in front of her? Barrett isn’t sure, but he doubts it. While they’re certainly not a Brady Bunch pairing, Helena and Lillian, he doesn’t think that their relationship is that strained. So, what happened to Mint…? “Were there any signs of people beyond the deceased and Miss Mint?” Barrett asks, receiving a shaken head in reply. “No, that’s something we wanted to know from Lillian… If she could give us more, I wouldn’t have to say an officer, that Helena was responsible for this… I…. We don’t have anything to go on besides the scene I’ve described, and it seems pretty open and shut, honestly. We’ve tried reaching out to Detective Acrobat’s daughter, but haven’t gotten a reply. She’s always been a hard one to reach, apparently. Acrobat would talk about how hard it was just to get a text from her when she was in college… typical teenagers, right?” He looks to the two across from him, a ghost of a smile on his face. “But look who I’m talking to, huh?” The silence in the room is deafening as Cornfield gives one last heavy sigh, reaching into his desk and pulling out a business card. On the other side, he quickly writes out a number and address. “Here’s the daughter’s phone number and college. If you can get her to talk to me, I’d greatly appreciate it. Unfortunately, I don’t speak MTV, so I’m hoping she’ll listen to her peers instead. I… I don’t have anything else for the pair of you, unfortunately. You’re dismissed, if you’re missing bootcamp, Lillian.” He manages to give a hollow laugh at the lackluster joke, and Fatimah rises from her chair, her movement mirrored by Barrett at her side. Reaching over the table, Barrett extends a hand to the defeated Investigator, smiling a somber, sad smile. “Your help is much appreciated, Investigator. If Miss Mint remembers anything, anything at all, we’ll be in contact with you the moment it happens.” “Thank you, Mister Cross. That… that’s a welcome comfort, one that’s sorely needed, I think. Let me know if you ever want to practice in Nevada as well… we could use someone as sharp and annoying as you.” “I’ll give it a thought,” Barrett notes with a faint smirk, managing to eke one out from the Investigatoras well. At the very least, he’s not arresting either of them, which makes this the best encounter Barrett has ever had with the authorities; he’d had no intention of getting a private tour of the Clark County prison, nor did he have the time. With muttered goodbyes, Fatimah and Barrett make their way out of the room, and then the Sheriff’s department. Once they’re free, they duck into a back alley, where Barrett dispels the Mist surrounding Fatimah. Gone is the Mint facade, leaving the mischievous young woman he was so confused about beneath. Still, her eyes don’t promise mischief; they only promise concern for the young man. “You okay, Barrett? That… that’s a lot to think about, what you heard in there.” She admits, toying with the fringe of her headscarf now that it’s no longer flowing blonde hair. It’s a cute gesture honestly, one that Barrett had never seen her do before. A small smile crosses his face as he feels his heart tremble. “I… I’m not sure what to think, honestly. All I know for sure is that she was here, and that she’s definitely in trouble… I’ll need to regroup and think about what to do…” “So, you’re going back to camp, then?” She raises an eyebrow as she asks, and Barrett nods. “Well, you’ll need to get back quickly, then… So that ruins my plans.” She sighs softly, a small smile crossing her face. “I thought we could have a bit of a vacation here, enjoy ourselves a bit.” “I’m sorry, Fatimah, I genuinely am.” And strangely enough, Barrett does feel remorse; he’s genuinely sad that he can’t stay… but he knows that he can’t, that he needs to press on. “I’ve got to find her before it’s too late, you know I’d do the same for you, right?” “You… you would?” Apparently, she did not, if the shock and faint blush crossing her face is anything to go by. Biting her bottom lip ever so slightly, she shakes her head quickly, perhaps harder than necessary. “That’s not here or there, Barrett. Your friend is in trouble, and you need to find her. I’ll take care of talking to Acrobat’s daughter, I’ve got free time… and your suite.” She winks playfully, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. “But before you go, I want my fee for helping.” She shakes the phone and pulls Barrett close. Laughing softly, Barrett puts on a smile for her; a small, yet genuine, one. For a moment or two, Fatimah mirrors his expression, before suddenly leaning in and kissing his cheek, snapping the photo before the shock registers on the Child of Mockery’s face. Pulling away, she giggles softly as she looks at the picture. Leaving Barrett in awe, she waves as she runs out of the alley, waving to him and tossing out one last farewell. “See you soon, cutie!” Her voice rings out, bright and cheery into the hot Vegas afternoon. Barrett, after a few moments, finally stumbles out of the alley after her, a hand raised in farewell. A taxi, seeing the gesture, pulls to a stop, before calling out, “Hey kid, where you goin’?” “Huh?? Oh, ummm… Bring me to McCarran, I’ve got to get home.” “You and me both kid, let’s go.” Camp Half-Blood, New York Theme Quarto Barrett returns to Camp Half-Blood, two flights and an interrogation under his belt. His eyes are weary, and he’s in dire need of sleep; flights not being his favorite experience. Still, a smile crosses his face despite the dire information he’s acquired. Staring down at his phone, he admires the picture of the dark-haired boy and the girl pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, a heart frame festooning the border all the while.
I don't know why they did it. That story of crazy betting was another coworker's experience and not my own but I have seen my own players double on a twenty just not with a few grand on the line. Some do it out of frustration, some just think they can get lucky while others don't know better. I've seen some pretty crazy plays before.
If it's obvious that someone has no clue what they are doing, I will try to steer them in the right direction. Our supervisors are the only ones who can give advice, so usually I tell them to help a customer out.
I do like my job. Some days it is monotonous and mind numbing. Some nights it just plain pitifull watching money fly out of their pockets but it' fun. I make a varying amount each month due to tips but they are pooled so it is roughly 1200 every two weeks. Seeing as how I only work for 4 days a week and I get a 30 minute break every hour and a half, I can't complain. :) As far as how to become a dealer, it depends on the facility. I got lucky and my place trained me for free! Very lucky. I recommend the job for. People who don't mind night shifts. I work 10pm-6am and I love it. Sorry the reply took so long. I'm actually at work right now :)
I don't know any specific numbers but I tried to recount a scenario tonight and I won about every 3 out of 4 hands. Sometimes it's better than that sometimes it's worse. Lots of basic strategy pushers will say that, by playing basic strategy, one can expect to win about 53% of the time. That may be the case, but that is following basic strategy wholeheartedly and probably over a long period of time. i.e. 5-7 hours of playing. I'm not an expert on actually playing and winning the game myself because I don't gamble. Most people expect a dealer to join in after hours, and a lot of my coworkers do gamble outside of our casino but it's just not my thing. The pay is most assuredly enough to survive, considering the cost of living in my area. I really think I have a good gig going.
Oh my goodness, yes. People can go bonkers sometimes. They have become irate towards me and also other players. Most of the time, players will just throw little fits and have weird, mumbling pity parties at the table as if they didn't know what the very essence of gambling entails. I was not there when this happened, but one player flipped a whole table over. He was obviously arrested for that one.
We win so often because we are the last to draw out of the whole table. Every player either hits or stays before my turn, therefore I have no one left to interfere with my hand when it's all said and done. I think the house edge is something like 5%. But if you play basic strategy, the edge can be knocked down quite a bit.
Good strategy, that I would play by, is basic strategy. It's fairly simple to understand and you can print out a chart online to keep handy. We let our players use them at the tables if they like. In fact, I think some of our stores sell the basic strategy cards.
I do deal other games, and I'm so happy that I do. Blackjack can get very boring after awhile. I deal Three Card Poker, Ultimate Texas Holdem, Baccarat and this new game called Pick One 21. We don't have Craps or Roulette yet as they are dice and wheel games and our gaming commission is working on their approval.
Pick One 21 is like a mush of Baccarat and Blackjack. There are two hands; red and blue and players wager which one they think will get closest to 21. It's pretty simple and it's caught on a bit more where I work.
Truthfully, no I haven't taken advantage of a drunken player. There are so many cameras on a single table, the punishment isn't worth committing the crime. Also, I would feel bad. I make mistakes sometimes and I am always so thankful to the players who point out that I've done something like overpay them. I'd like to think that if I take care of them, they will do the same in return. Doesn't always happen but, it's something I try to uphold. There are a few people that have screwed some people over before. It's just not something I'd be willing to risk my job over. Besides, the drunk ones are entertaining. I want them to come back. :)
Yes! It was awesome. I only spend a small amount of time at each table and sometimes I will keep track of my tip balance for that portion of time. I've definitely made a good portion of my paycheck in 30 minutes. Like I said though, we pool our tips so I share that with the rest of the dealers. Pooling is nice, because I've have also made only 50 cents in a whole night...
A blackjack payout can be 6 to 5 at some casinos but ours is 3 to 2 or time and a half. The bigger you bet, the better that ratio looks. I'm not too familiar with the 6-5 payout, but to exemplify...A $10 black jack would get paid $12 with 6-5, but with a 3-2 rule a $10 blackjack gets paid $15.
If you're familiar with the game and handling cheques, cheating seems easy. People cap and pinch their bets a lot, and it's something I look for a lot though, I've never caught someone in the act. Card counting isn't really cheating but mostly frowned upon and will get you asked to leave a casino. We have machines that shuffle the cards for us, using multiple decks so it cuts down on that a lot. When and if someone is caught cheating, they are usually asked to leave for the day. If it isn't apparent, casinos love money so we aren't going to turn away a paying customer for more than a day, no matter how shady their plays may be. As far as a cheating player and the dealer is concerned, it is a big part of our job and it is something our pits hold us accountable for. We probably wouldn't get fired for not seeing someone cap their bet, but they will talk to us about it.
Sure! Basic Strategy is usually the best way to go and it's fairly easy to understand. The link is to a basic strategy chart. The chart tells you what to do based on your number and the dealer's number. Link to www.blackjackinfo.com
Personally, not that I know of. Ball players will frequent a lot, so it is possible that I dealt to one of them and never knew... But, famous people do come out and gamble every once in a while. Sometimes a few performers have been known to play a few games while they're in town. I've never had the pleasure.
People do try to cheat. It's a very aggravating thing to have to deal with. We work a lot to maintain the game's integrity to keep both us and the player's in good hands, but someone is always going to try to get some sort of edge, be it on the tables or at the machines.
Charity events would be the most relaxed to play at (I can only assume), so it's a good place to start. I would look over basic strategy rules and learn when to hit, stay etc. because blackjack is kind of like a team sport. Everyone at the table is affected by what every player decides to do. I've seen people do very well by working together as a team and following strategy. And yes, I believe blackjack has also been called 21 in the past.
We are only the second because of how a casino's size is measured. It can be measured by square footage, in which case I do believe that we are literally the largest. A casino can also be measured by machine game count, which is why we are second. I think that answer is correct, but from what I've heard we are always neck and neck with other casinos for that spot.
I just know that second largest is how we advertise ourselves. Like I said before, there are different ways that a casino's size is measured so that has to be factored in when considering the rankings.
Quite honestly, people come in and out so frequently and so often that I have never paid too much attention to one person's particular winnings. I know that winning as much as 100K definitely requires wagering big too. That's awesome that the deadmau5 guy has walked away with that much. And yes, I would assume that he won it over a time span a few hours. I think blackjack is a game best played for fun without expecting anything in return. Lots of people come to play expecting to walk away loaded but they are out of the game in around 20 minutes. It's more fun to play, if you are there to just have fun and play.
I don't really know how our casino would handle a card counter because I've never come into contact with one. But, I know that we take lots of measures to ensure that counting is essentially impossible due to the amount of decks and the shuffling machines that we employ.
If I were to play the game, I would be like you; have a few drinks and talk to people. It would just seem more fun that way. I don't usually mind it if people joke around with me, but I know that some people do. I look at it this way; it is our job and sometimes people just don't want to be at work so if someone has ever given you the cold shoulder, it's probably because they can't wait to clock out.
I don't know a lot about counting cards. I've never had any interaction or experience with that situation so I don't know how it would be handled but I'm sure basic protocol is to just ask a counter to leave.
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