Non-Fiction
12/04/19
It’s funny how some people develop these habits that they swear they don’t have or refuse to fix despite the torment it puts them through. One of the most dangerous obsessions is gambling.
No matter what casino or card club, no matter the city or the neighborhood, you’re sure to run into a few of them and if you’re not careful you can even become one of them, a member of their sick twisted mentality of “I’m gonna win this hand just watch” even though they lost the last thirty and counting.
It was about two months ago when a bright eyed eager young twenty something Arabic youth came to the card house. He was certainly old enough to be there but his eager energy gave him away as a gambling greenhorn. I hadn’t been at the card house all that terribly long, but even I was able to spot the clear difference between him and the veteran patrons.
He threw down his stack of black chips (worth twenty dollars apiece, totaling four hundred in all) and went about playing on the black jack tables. That’s usually never a good thing due to having the least favorable odds for the players. I was learning the payout system for the game so I was second pairing with a coworker. Our job was to cover all payouts for the winners and make sure the amounts were correct, while we also collected all losing bets, since our company essentially acts as the banker at the table. My eyes were constantly scanning the table. Newbie over here was betting more than anyone else, I felt my own wallet scream in agony.
Beginner’s luck was certainly on his side that night. Four hundred quickly became six and then eight. He doubled his money at a fairly decent pace and contrary to what most people do, he had the good sense to get the hell out of Dodge, leaving while he was positive in his earnings. From hearing his conversations with the other players, I understood it was his birthday.
I didn’t see him for about two weeks. When I finally did, I didn’t stop seeing him nearly every other day of every week of every month. The kid had caught the fever. Gambling took hold of not just his money but his social life. He was coming so frequently and must have been chatting the place up to his buddies because soon enough he started being accompanied by his entourage of super hype hipster pals, all throwing money and getting excited over every single win, even the small ones. It wasn’t long before his buddies caught the sickness too.
You know the addiction is bad when you see the player hit up the ATM two to five times in a single visit. Not to make more money because they’re doing so well they can afford to bet more, no, but to replace all their lost funds, continuing to dig a deeper hole for themselves. It’s common losers bet more money expecting to win the next hand and get their previous lost money back. This rarely happens. It was seldom I ever saw the kid leave with more money than he came in with. Usually he left at least three hundred dollars in the hole. Obviously, he couldn’t take the pressure of going negative either, because he would get red faced and throw minor temper tantrums when he lost, accusing the dealers of cheating.
It came to a head last week when I was sent to oversee a baccarat table for most of my shift. The table in question was directly across from a black jack table where the youth quickly made his presence known, giving me a clear view of the rest of the evening’s bets. Per usual the kid started off with a small amount, though this time a smaller amount than usual at only one hundred fifty dollars. He managed to build it up quickly though.
But that’s when it happened.
“We’re on fire bro! we can’t lose. WE CAN’T LOSE!” his buddy said.
“I know man I know, it is lit, like for real. But breh, we gotta go, we both got work in the morning.” He said as he counted their night’s winnings on the table.
“Man, to hell with work. I’ll do this for a living.”
“Brilliant idea,” I muttered to myself acting like I hadn’t heard the transaction beside me.
“Alright, alright, we’ll go we’ll go but first…” his friend grabbed a handful of chips “I gotta do one more hand. Last one I swear.”
“Famous last words.” A small grin spreading across my face as I half paid attention to them.
A few moments later I heard the greedy kid betting say “DOUBLE DOWN!”. I glanced over to see the action on the table. The kid had a four and a five, nine total. Clearly, he was banking on getting a ten or ace for a nineteen or twenty and then I looked at the money he had bet. His base bet: five hundred dollars, his double down brought him up to a grand. The total they had to play with was roughly one thousand thirty dollars. I looked at the one wanting to go, his hands covering his mouth.
His third card was drawn. Two. He had a whopping eleven. You could see the kid’s face behind him drop as if he died inside.
The dealer revealed their second card, then pulled a third, then a fourth, fifth. The dealer went to draw the sixth card, and it looked like the kids would be saved by a spectacular bust bonus payout, but the dealer stayed at a six card twenty-one.
“NOOOOOOO!” screamed the one standing further back, not playing.
The dealer raked in the chips and gathered the cards for a new round.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT BRO! We weren’t supposed to be gambling now man.”
“Relax, we having a good time breh, we’ll get it all back this next hand you’ll see.”
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND BRO! THAT WASN’T MY MONEY!” he said red-faced and panic-stricken.
The gambler had roped his buddy into his sickness with him, and his buddy had just bet all of his earnings. The sickness was more contagious than ever and it was spreading.
I watched them make multiple trips to the ATM trying to get their money back. They left in a huff, one irritated, the other looking like he was fearing for his life.
You can gamble for fun, or you can gamble professionally, but if you gamble stupid, you always lose. Addiction can both feed and starve. it feeds the adrenaline, and starves the wallet. That is why it’s such a dangerous illness. Those that lose always come back expecting to win and have fun doing it, and the more they lose, the more the need to win consumes them. They never stay gone for too long.
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