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Saturday, April 1, 2007
One of our very own
cocktail waitresses, Dawn, was Employee of the Month, which made
her in the running for Employee of the Year. She attended
a banquet for all the nominees who were each given a check for
$1500 and an extra week's paid vacation. She ended up
winning the Employee of the Year, so she got another $3000 and
another week's paid vacation, and an all-expenses paid trip for
seven days to three destinations (none of them included Vegas).
Our lovely Dawn, was a Buffalo Bills cheerleader. When I
took this picture I tried to get her to say, "All set? (clap
clap) You bet!" She told me I was a dork and to take the
picture already. Damn, nice attitude for Employee of the
Last month New York-New
York did a charity fundraiser for the
Baldrick's Foundation, an organization that helps children
with cancer. Several employees were brave enough to shave
their heads to raise money, including members of Food and
Beverage, which is another reason why I love the people I work
Cory, our Director of Restaurants. It hurts me to say
this but he actually has (had) really nice hair, so this was
quite a sacrifice.
Steve, our Beverage Manager, kinda looks like the Jolly Red
Giant. He was so proud because José Eber's cousin's
neighbor's dog sitter's uncle-in-law personally shaved his head
with a modified Flowbee.
Jennifer, our Executive Assistant to the V.P. of Food and
Beverage, is my hero. She raised $1000 and was the only
woman willing to step up. Jen, you rock! The only
thing that would make me love her more is if I could get a video
tearing up a picture of the Pope.
Monday, April 2, 2007
I was walking by my craps table when I saw a kid standing
there, he was probably seven or eight years old. Then I
saw that a security guard was with him, talking to some people
who had been gambling at my table. I went over and
eavesdropped on their conversation, and as I walked up I
overheard the security guard say to the parents, "You can't
leave him alone in the room." The parents were smiling,
not at all sorry or embarrassed. The mother said, "Oh, we
left the TV on for him and we made sure we locked the door."
The security guard was actually very nice, and he patiently
explained, "You cannot leave your child unattended, we don't
allow that. The maid found him when she went to clean the
room and she reported it to us." She said, "Oh, well, how
old does he have to be before he can be by himself?" The
guard said, "Usually thirteen or so." I was waiting for
her to say, "He's thirteen then." But instead the parents
said, "OK, thank you." I don't know what the law is, but I
think thirteen is still too young. In fact, I think
leaving a teenager alone in Vegas is a bad idea, period, even if
he's locked in your room. I know it sucks that you don't
have anyone to watch your kids while you drink and gamble, but
that's what being a responsible parent is all about, putting
your child's needs before your own. There was a well-known
Sherrice Iverson, who was seven years old, was raped and
murdered in a casino bathroom while her father gambled the night
away. Yes, he left his daughter in the care of his
fourteen-year-old son, but he left them alone all night while
they hung out in the casino arcade. Would you trade your
kid's life for a million dollar jackpot? Don't leave your
kids alone here.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
I had these two black guys playing on my roulette wheel.
They ordered two Miller Lites and when I brought them, a black
lady had joined them. She ordered a Miller Lite also, but
when I came back she was gone. I looked around to see if
she might be at another table, and I saw her at the next
roulette wheel. I set the beer down next to her and said,
"Here's your Miller Lite." She looked at it and said, "I
didn't order that." That's when I realized she was the
wrong lady. One of the black guys at the original roulette
wheel looked over and said, "Oh, it's over here, she'll be right
back." So I picked up the beer, brought it over to him,
leaned close to his ear and said, "You know, you guys all look
alike." He just busted out laughing, "Yeah, that's what
You know, I realize that I
can probably get away with this kind of thing because I'm not
white. And that's precisely why I take advantage of it.
I can turn an otherwise mundane, or even negative, situation
into something a little more light-hearted. I was lucky
that the guy had a great sense of humor, and he may even have
laughed if a white waitress said the same thing, but I do try
and feel out my customers before I try to joke with them.
When I related this incident to the other waitresses and
bartender in the bar, everyone laughed, but the white waitresses
said this exact thing, that they would never even attempt to
joke like that with someone, which is probably a safe decision.
But I pointed out that while they may have to be more careful in
what they say, they would never encounter what I deal with on a
daily basis, customers asking me where I'm from - originally
- or placing their order like they're speaking to a
language-challenged, hearing-impaired monkey: "I'LL.....HAAAAVE....A......COOOFFFEEEEEE.........!!!!!!
CREEEEAM.......AAAND.......SUUUGAR!!!!!" Sometimes they
skip the small words, trying not to confuse me. You'd
think they'd skip the big words if they really want to make it
easy. Anyway, so it becomes just "COOOOFFFEEEE......CREEEEAM.....SUUGAAAR!!!"
And hand gestures, like they're pouring cream in a coffee cup.
See, I get it, I'm not so dumb. God, I hate mimes.
And it's so cute when they try to affect an Asian accent,
because "sugar" becomes "shooga." What's that sir, sugar?
I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that term. Oh, shooga!
Gotcha! I mean, ah...shooga, I put many many shooga - you
likey! Hee hee hee! (while covering my mouth with one
dainty hand) I've always wondered what would happen if I
did that. Hmmm, I think I've found my next project.
Friday, April 6, 2007
I was in a good mood, the radio in the service bar was
playing "My Humps" so we were all singing along, and we were all
acting stupid. I had a couple of drinks going out to my
station so I walked out, passing through another girl's station.
There were three customers talking to each other and I could
hear one lady saying to her friends, "I want to get a drink
before we leave." She saw me approaching and said, "Can I
get a Coors Light?" I said, "Sure, I'll let your waitress
know you need a drink." I started to walk by and she said,
"Aren't you a waitress?" She said this in a very snide,
obviously sarcastic way. Her implication was obvious, that
she assumed I could get her the beer but I was just too lazy to
do it. So I said, very slowly, "Why yes, I am.
That's very observant. But I'm not the waitress in this
section, which is why I said that I would let your
waitress know you need a drink." She said, "Oh." But
so quietly I almost couldn't hear her. What a fucking
bitch. And I was so nice to her. So I delivered my
drinks, and as I came back through I could see the waitress
taking orders in this section. She was in the row on the
other side of where the three people were sitting, and they
weren't even playing. They were just sitting there,
waiting for a waitress to come around so they could get their
free beer because they were too cheap to play for their beer, or
go buy one at the bar, which was just a stone's throw away.
(I don't know how far that is, but I hope it's not too far
because I'm trying to say the bar was close by.) Now,
before you get all on their side and say that maybe they'd been
gambling for an hour and lost all their money and they hadn't
seen a waitress the whole time, that's not the case at all here.
I know because they were in a main aisle, where many waitresses,
including me, have to travel through to get to other stations.
And the machines were right by a walkway. I had never seen
them there, before my pleasant encounter with them, so they had
just stopped there to rest before they went on their merry way.
Here comes the funny part. When the waitress came down
their row, she started taking orders from other customers but
she didn't stop to ask them if they wanted a drink because they
were just sitting there, not even facing the machines, obviously
not playing. The kicker is, not one of the three people,
including Miss Coors Light, stopped her to say they wanted a
drink. So, they watched their waitress take orders
from everyone around them, skip right over them, continue taking
orders, and not one of them said a word. They sat there
for a few more seconds, then got up and left. What a bunch
of fucking retards. I think the world owes me thanks for
not dulling their senses more with alcohol.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
So today my first customer was this very nice lady who gave
me one Canadian quarter for a Bloody Mary. I say "one" as
if two would be better. Anyway, as I was walking away,
examining my prize, the lady ran up to me and said, "I forgot to
give you this too!" She handed me a redemption ticket for
14¢. That's right, 14¢. I said, "Thanks so much!"
She smiled and said, "Well, I can't use it so I figured you
could." How the hell did she figure that? Did she
have a "Who Can Use 14¢" calculator? Let's see...homeless
guy, little old ladies, other Canadians, wait...how about a
cocktail waitress, yeah, she'll want it! At least it
really is worth 14¢.
I walked by the lounge and
waved to the bartender that was working there. He waved
back, then pointed to something inside that I couldn't see, so I
walked in and looked around the corner. There was a skinny
guy, probably in his twenties, although it was hard to tell
because he was really dirty with a long, matted beard and nasty
long hair (kinda like the Geico caveman, no offense to cavemen),
wearing a T-shirt and shorts, running around frantically, then
suddenly stopping to strike a pose. Not the kind Madonna
sang about, no, but like the Incredible Hulk when he's ripping
through his shirt, then he ran and jumped up on one of the
chairs and did like a Karate Kid pose, on one leg. He
actually had pretty good balance. The few customers who
were in the bar were really enjoying this, as was I and the
other cocktail waitress and bartender. We watched him run
around for a few minutes, sometimes twirling around in mid-run,
always stopping suddenly to do a new pose. I liked the one
where he kind of knelt, hands out, looking up at the sky with an
anguished look on his face and his mouth wide open, as if he was
in silent, painful prayer to God, "why hast thou forsaken me???"
The other waitress and I were giggling but trying not to
distract him because we didn't want him to stop. When he
ran by again the waitress said, "Dude, are you on crack or
what?" He turned back and said, "No way man, pure heroin!"
Then he left. Just like that. Well, that sucks.
As I walked back to the
service bar from the lounge, still disappointed that my
boyfriend had left to score some heroin, a man smoking a cigar
walked up to me. He pointed vaguely towards some slots
behind him and said, "Are you working over there?" I said,
"No, but tell me what you want and I'll give the order to your
waitress." He said, "I just want Piña Colada." When
he said "Piña" a huge, wet blob of spit came charging out of his
mouth, and guess where it landed? IN MY MOUTH! It
all happened so fast that before I could think about what I was
doing, I swallowed it! Damn my natural reflexes! The
man turned away, leaving behind a trail of stinky cigar smoke
and a bad taste in my mouth. There I was, left standing
with a sour beer look on my face. Judge Judy, help!
Do I have a case for pain and suffering? What are my
damages? What if I have cigar-related halitosis for the
rest of my life? Have I now, in theory, kissed every girl
that he has spat on, making me an unintentional bisexual?
I ran back to the service bar (OK, I didn't run, but you get the
drift) and told the bartender, "I need a shot of vodka - now!"
He poured it and damn if I didn't shoot that in one swallow.
The bartender said, "Well, if I had known it was for you I
would've given you the good stuff." I said, "Don't talk to
me. I have to puke now."
Sunday, April 15, 2007
This is Brian from Hawaii, the one who gave me that
funky crystal tea
set back in December. He's so funny, he came up to me,
gave me a hundred dollar bill and said, "Here, buy your own tea
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Here is an e-mail I
I see you have not updated in a few
months, is everything OK?
Oh and although you dislike it, I bet
your parents are from the phillipines, and your boobs are
fake. And yes, when I guess an asian persons race correctly
I do get mental bonus points. hehehehhehe
As to your first guess, you are 100%
wrong. As to your second, duh.
This e-mail, coincidentally, arrived the very
day something similar happened at work. I had these two
white guys playing on rapid roulette. By the way, rapid
roulette is a relatively new game where customers pick numbers
from their video machines, which are set up in two rows around live dealers who throw the ball on a real
roulette wheel. The best part of the game is when the
dealers are ready to go and a female video voice whispers
seductively, "No more bets!" I swear, people have paid
good money to be talked to like that. Anyway, so these two
guys were playing and when I came around and asked, "Would you
guys like a drink?", one of them ignored me, the other turned
around and did one of those exaggerated double-takes, like I was
so beautiful I just blew him away. He said, "Wow!"
He then purposely blinked his eyes a couple of times, and shook
his head a few times, as if he couldn't believe such a beauty
really was standing in front of him. I tolerated this bit
of non-academy award-winning performance, gave him a small
smile, and said, "What can I get for you?" Instead of
replying, he stared at me intently, leaned back in his chair,
then dramatically pointed a finger at me and said, "Vietnamese?"
Inwardly sighing (here we go again), I said, "No." He
narrowed his eyes, trying to focus and zone in on my racial DNA.
He threw another pointed finger at me as if trying hit the bull's-eye,
"Filipino?" I said, "No." Now he was really stumped.
He rubbed his chin and really studied my face. So,
deciding to play his game, I suddenly pointed at him and said,
"Irish?" He looked confused. "Um...no." I
rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then my face lit up and I pointed
at him again, "Italian?" He didn't say anything; his face
a complete blank, and I could see all the rusty wheels coming to
a complete halt. "Uh..." then he waved me off as he turned
back his game, "I'll have a Jack and Coke." What?
Come on! Tell me tell me tell me, I have a bet with my
friend, he thinks you're Jewish I think you're Scottish,
seriously where are you REALLY from, Holland? Australia? Canada?
Germany? Ich bin ein Berliner! aren't you impressed I can speak
four words in your language - let's fuck!, what - you don't
speak your language? what's wrong with you, you must be an
asshole, were you born here because you speak really good
English, I bet you're Irish you must grow your own potatoes
after what your people have gone through, and I just love Lucky
Charms! you're English? The Tudors is one of my favorite shows!
You're Swedish? I once had some Swedish neighbors - do you know
them - a really nice couple, hard-working, quiet, never gave me
any trouble, you're not Swedish? but you look Swedish! are you
sure? maybe it's somewhere in your ancestry because I know a lot
about Swedes and you look Swede, by the way is your wife Swedish
too, so you're Greek? my cousin is married to a Greek, wow isn't
that interesting, come on come on I want my mental bonus
Friday, April 27, 2007
This is me and my mom. Just kidding. But I guess she
could be. It's me and Mitzi at the Big Apple Bar.
Mitzi is a regular who comes in all the time. She plays
video poker or hangs out in the lounge, dancing the night away.
She is so cute, always wearing something outrageous and having a
good time. And yes, I'm taller than her!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Me and Renee, my e-mail pal from Olympia, WA who came for a Vegas
meet and stopped by to say hi. This is before she went out
with her sister and got wasted.