You gotta love getting home after four a.m. on a Saturday morning.
Except for being stone-cold sober, it's just like I was back living with Derek and the boys at his Frathouse in Tempe. Those were the days. Oh wait, there's one other difference--I still have the $150 in my wallet that I left the house with last night. That shiat would've been long gone by now. And my clothes don't smell of wine and cheap perfume...
I may have mentioned previously that work has been getting much busier lately. It seems like every night our tables aren't closing as fast as they used to, and most of the tables are always full. Gotta love a strong economy! And I also noticed that our tokes have been getting much better since tax season ended in the middle of April. These past few weeks we had a stretch where we didn't hit less than $150 per day per dealer, while at some of the bigger Strip resorts, the dealers were struggling to hit a Benjamin. (Back when I was first offered the job, I was told that we'd make about a hundred a night--luckily it's been much better than that)
I thought we might've slipped a bit when I came into work on Thursday (after having two days off) and seeing that we only made $136 on Monday night. But then I saw what everyone made on my days off--$200 each day, and I was a little bummed out because I missed it.
You never want to miss a $200 day.
Well, I shouldn't have been too concerned because, although we were busy as hell that night, on Thursday we hit $250 in tips. Nice!
My gal Jen wasn't at work on Thursday, so when I saw her on our first break last night, I wanted to rub it in that she missed a big night. But, she'd taken a floater day, and not only did she not have to work that night, she thought she was ultra-cool for still getting paid $300 for going to see Phantom of the Opera at the Venetian and then going out drinking afterwards. Bizatch!
I guess the lesson here is not to try to rub it in...
But tonight was more of the same--I was dropping money in the toke box all night long, and I was even in Chinatown for the first six hours, notorious for it's lack of good tippers. It might've had something to do with the two straight-flushes I dealt on the Pai Gow table within ten minutes of each other, and also paying out so much on 3-Card Poker that I had to get a fill for over five grand after a half-hour.
But then I got moved to dice at 2 am, and the deluge wouldn't stop. I had a full table, with one real PITA player standing right next to me, but I also had a big-money player on my end. To round it out, I was also dealing to the guy who sold me my truck. Anyhow, the high-roller starts tossing in pink, saying stuff like $2000 outside, $400 Horn, $100 for the dealers on the whirl...
I set him up and gave the extra $500 to the stick chick, told her about the horn bet and our whirl, and added From my good friend on the end!
He got a kick out of that and tossed me two more black checks, telling me to drop it in the box because he liked me so much. Score!
It didn't end there, as he kept $500 on both the 4 and 10, and every time they'd hit, the payoff was $975. Each time I cut out the winnings in the Come, he told me to keep the $75 for myself. Yep, dropped a whole lotta green checks those last two hours, plus all of the prop bets he had us up on actually hit a few times.
It ended up being a very long night--that dice table was still jam-packed when the graveyard crew tapped us out at 3:55, but I can't wait to see the toke book tomorrow night to find out how we did.
Even if we crack three hundy, I'll take smug satisfaction knowing that that hooch Jen had to work for it this time!