The good news was, as soon as I got to work, I found out that I was dealing my favorite string of games--two $10 Pai Gow tables and Deuces Wild. And I started doing the first full hour, thus nearly guaranteeing the half-hour early out. I like that sequence of games because they are very popular and I know that I'll likely be busy the entire night, making the shift just fly by. And it did for the most part, but it wasn't easy due to my attempt at coughing up a lung all night.
Yep, this cough has got not only me, but a handful of other dealers I work with--we spent our breaks drinking hot tea with lemon and popping Hall's like they were Halloween candy. I was glad to see that misery had company last night. Hell, yesterday I damn near lost my voice entirely, and I would've called in sick, but I just can't afford to miss any more time this week.
That's what I miss the most about the salaried corporate world--you get sick, you stay home, you get better, you still get paid, and the only repercussions at the office was the big pile of work waiting for you at your desk when you got back. Not so at the casino--you get sick, you don't get paid. Unless you're in the hospital or something, but I'm not sure how it works. I think you have to use up all your vacation days first, before they pay you sick time. Hell, I don't know, I never use it. I don't think I've used my insurance but once or twice in the three years I've been here.
Anyhow, for being a sickly, hacking, out-of-it dealer last night, I still managed to drop a comparatively good share of tokes, even for spending the majority of my night dealing Pai Gow, which is an especially tough game to try and pry a tip out of the players. I was doing my best to put on my show, and it seemed to go over well. It also helped that I dealt to absolutely ZERO of our normal Pai Gow fleas that everyone hates. I don't know where they were last night, nor do I much care. I'm just glad they weren't at my table. I guess that kinda makes up for New Years Eve this year. When the ball dropped, I was stuck dealing $5 blackjack to five of the loneliest losers in the entire Pacific time zone. When everyone else was popping confetti, drinking champagne, kissing their dates, and singing Auld Lang Syne, those poor freaks were agonizing over whether or not to hit a 15 against my seven. It was kind of fitting when I turned over a three, followed by an Ace, and swept up all of their meager bets.
Besides the occasional coughing fit, the night went by fairly easily. Before I knew it, it was 1:40 in the morning, and I was heading to my last game of the night--forty minutes and out. I debated whether or not to stop at the store and get some more medicine (this bug seems to have overpowered the Delsym), but decided to just stop and get a carton of ice cream to sooth my aching throat. It felt all swollen due to the dozen or so cough drops I'd gone through, so I was looking for something cool with no mediciney aftertaste.
Ben & Jerry's mint cookies & creme did the trick of providing some temporary, but blessed, relief. It's gone now, but I've got a tall glass of ice water on the nightstand and a bag full of drugs within reach. I'm gonna try to sleep for a few hours before getting up and watching today's playoff games. If I'm feeling well enough, and hungry enough, I'm going to make a batch of blueberry muffins and drink about a half gallon of orange juice. Not exactly the coolest tailgating menu in the world, but it'll have to do.
In case anyone is looking for me, I'm that pale blubbery lump under the blankets in the living room, trying to yell at the tv between hack attacks.
Mikey
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