To the cute young blond working in the cashier's cage at Ballys Casino Las Vegas.
I was gambling at Ballys new years eve and you cashed my chips right before new years countdown with the with the most friendliest greeting and the multiple eye contacts. Too bad I was an idiot for not noticing at that time - you were gorgeous and mesmerizing and I was lost for words. Just had to get that out.
Entitled guests yells at security for guarding money and not stopping to answer questions
So I am working as a security officer at a local casino while looking for work in my preferred field of I.T. and boy do I have some entitled stories from work. Today when I get to work our shift goes into a briefing like we do everyday and we get our assignments for the day. Today must have been my lucky day as I got one of the best assignments I get to roam around all day and respond to the cage needing access to the ticket redemption machines. If I'm not helping the cage I roam unless I am given a task from control. We get our assignments and we hit the floor. Almost as soon as we hit the floor a task goes out to another officer to do an escort from one of the bars to the cage to turn in the cash from their register. I happened to be closer to that bar and I called the officer dispatched on my radio and told them to stand down I will pick up that escort, control copied and I head to the bar. Once I get to the bar I call surveillance on the radio and tell them I'm doing as escort from the bar to the cage, survalance copies and they are now watching us as we travel through the casino. The location of this bar is in the farthest place in the casino from the cage so we have a decent walk. Now as a security escort once we call surveillance we cannot stop as we are guarding the currency our cashier is carrying, also since we are guarding the currency we have the authority to tell not ask people to move out of the way so we can get through (we rarely ever do such unless a walkway is crowded). So on an escort you walk at a brisk pace 45 degrees off to the side of the cashier that has the money and maybe a half step behind them. If anyone gets in the way we don't stop we will walk a different way or force our way through if absolutely necessary to protect the money and cashier. I hope you get the picture we don't stop once we begin moving for ANY reason. So we are walking and about halfway there when a man sitting at a slot machine yells at the cashier asking her what the name of the coffee shop right behind us is and she didn't realise he was talking to her and she ignores him. I turn my head to answer his question while still walking by. The man then screams WILL YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ME!!!! and as I said before we don't stop for any reason. We continue to the cage and we say a few words about how rude he was and we reach the cage. I then call control and let them know I am clear of the escort. I begin to walk back to the man and I approach him and say. Op=me Ej=entitled jerk OP: I'm sorry sir I wanted to apologize for us not stopping as were unable to stop once we being doing an escort. Ej: (cuts me off) you can't tell me that being rude and ignoring a guest is ok with the casino!? Op: no sir it is not but per casino policy once security begins an escort we cannot stop. Ej: (cuts me off again) I was a cop in big city 20 miles away for 25 years and never did I ever treat a citizen like you treated me! Op: again sir I'm trying to apologize to you and explain why we couldn't stop and answer your initial question. Ej: (cuts me off again) you can't tell me that being on a mission is more important than a guest!! Op: (staying calm but getting frustrated) sir I'm sorry that you feel this way but I was guarding money and I can't stop. Ej: tell me what casinos in our state have been robbed in the last 5 years? Op: well the casino 5 miles down the road was just last year another reason we don't stop for any reason. Ej: that's just a bingo hall it's not a casino!! OP: sir that is a casino they have slots and bingo regardless if you want to acknowledge that my orders don't change and neither does policy. Ej: show me the policy that says you can be rude to a guest and not talk to them! Op: I'm really sorry we can't come to an agreement on this but if you would like to file a complaint you can at the security desk right behind us, also it appears my supervisors are right there as well, here is my name and badge number if you need it. Ej: why bother I have done that already and nothing came of it! OP: well I'm sorry we can't agree. Ej: well we can agree to disagree. Op: sure. Have a good evening and best of luck. And I walk away. One of me leads was watching the whole encounter and observing how I dealt with the situation and approached me and asked if everything was alright afterwards. I said yea and quickly ran to my locker to put away some gloves I wasn't needing and returned to the gaming floor. I went to look for my lead and explain what had happened. Little did I know Ej went to complain about stubbing his toe!?!?! And employees being rude. My lead started laughing when I explained what actually happened and said were all good. More to the story. So after the cashier and I blew by EJ another guard heard him get upset and tried to answer his question but he just yelled at the other guard. Also less than 10 feet from where EJ was sitting were 2 other guards who could have answered his question if he had asked and even better yet less than 30 feet away was the coffee shop he wanted to know the name of. While I have come to like my job I encounter a lot of entitled people and this one was one of my favorites. Yes I know you are holding a lot of money but stop and answer my question...hey talk to me...hey!!!! Yea no sorry not how it works buddy. Side note. If we had stopped we could have been written up or fired on the spot for not following cash handling procedure and casino policy. Just incase anyone is on EJs side. Another side note. 99% of casino guests know when security is doing something and to give them space as we are only focused on our task and we ask people to watch out for us politely unless they don't move then we tell them to move and the only times we do this is when moving money to or from point a to point b or urgently responding to an incident. 99% of the time you see security we are just making a presence and not on a task. I am by nature a kind person I dont like being rude and is the reason I went back to talk to the EJ to try to clarify. I also know my job well enough to know that I wouldn't be in any trouble for not stopping to answer his question no matter how pissed off he was at us.
Register for membership at the casino. It's usually free to join.
Bring $1,000 in cash. Preferably in $100s.
Using your membership card, check-in your $1,000 in chips. Preferably in $5 increments.
Play for 30 minutes, very conservatively.
Cash-out. Go to the cashier's cage and get your cash. Do not give them your card.
Go back to a different table and cash-in again. Show them your membership card.
The casino will register that you have given them $1,000. Then when you go back in, you are being re-registered again for $900 or whatever you cashed in again with. Repeat these steps, and the casino will log your membership with hundreds of dollars in one day. Once you hit the $10,000 limit, the computer system triggers that you are a "high roller" and you get your Emerald, Ruby, Sapphire, or Diamond card in the mail.
I am a semi-pro gambler and get paid in cash at the casino (when I visit the cage, that is). I converted some of my bankroll to metal just when Covid started, knowing that casinos and card rooms would close soon. I visited the coin shop yesterday to convert a roll of bullions back to cash and was surprised to be handed over a bunch of $50 Ulysses Grant bill in lieu of the usual $100 Benjamin Franklin bills. The coin shop employee told me that $100 were hard to find these days and that people were now using $50 bills. I then had a winning session at the casino and when I visited the cage to cash my chips, the cashier asked me if I was OK to be paid in $50 bills and instead asked for "large ones" (which is what we call $100 bills in the gambling world). First we were told that loose change was in low availability (which is bizarre, since loose change is heavily recycled by the banking system), not it seems that it is "Benjamins"? I wonder if this is due to hoarding, production issues related to Covid, something else, including a forced slow conversion to electronic currency and a programmed end to the use of any fiduciary?
CMA - Told my former coworkers the real reason I was fired?
Extremely long, please forgive me. TL;DR — CMA for telling my coworkers I was fired because of my mental health? So I used to work as a cocktail server for a casino in my area. Due to my state's regulations regarding reopening nonessential businesses during COVID-19, the casino was only able to reopen for business if it followed very strict criteria; for example, cocktail servers like me cannot run drinks out to patrons on the floor right now, and are instead stuck manning the self-serve soda machines to reduce the risk of customers spreading germs to each other. There are a slough of other extremely important protocols and changes in place, and the tension is especially high among the bar staff - we're only able to serve alcohol at all by exploiting a loophole that says alcohol may only be served alongside a food item, and if we heck any part of that up, all bar staff go back on furlough. That we had already lost all but one senior cocktail (me) and three of our five bartenders wasn't helping, as we were all stuck pulling double and triple shifts to cover the gaps. On top of this, the casino rolled out a few new changes NOT related to COVID-19 - namely, new uniforms: Long sleeved black dress shirts, long black slacks, and a clip on bowtie that necessitated the shirt collars being buttoned all the way up. No variations are allowed - not even neatly rolling up the sleeves in hot weather. It is currently summer where I work, and we've already had several weeks of temperatures in the 90-100 range (Fahrenheit). All black clothes in starchy fabric, with long sleeves and fully buttoned necks, on a job where even the drink station workers move around A LOT. To add to this, anybody in security or food/beverage can and will at some point have to step outside into the full sun to run patrols or grab supplies from the outdoor containers, and the people in the cashier cage are working with zero air conditioning. To further add to the work stress, management has repeatedly caught wind of employees stretching the rules to make their lives easier - cocktail servers having soda or tea behind the counter, or cashier cage ladies bringing in little battery powered fans - and shot every single one of them down. Remember how I said we can't roll our sleeves up? That's another example. We WERE until management decided it looked unprofessional, even when the sleeves were neatly cuffed. TO ADD TO ALL OF THIS, over the last month I have had my six year old cat Izzy diagnosed with terminal lymphoma (and am nursing him through his last few months at home, which includes occasionally giving him an IV electrolyte push for dehydration); have received news that my mother is considering leaving my father due to his alcoholism (he is NEVER abusive, but she can't watch him drink himself to death anymore); and am faced with roughly $2000 in bills and loans that I need to pay off on what was an income of maybe $700 a week. On a good week. I struggle with clinical depression, anxiety, and what we believe may be high-functioning autism. I do have a history of self harm, especially in the last two years. I made the casino very clearly aware of both of these things upon being offered a job. On Sunday (July 5), due to ALL OF THE ABOVE, I suffered a massive depressive episode while in the employees' restroom at the casino, on the clock during a fifteen minute break. During this episode, I noticed there were two extremely sharp exposed screw points sticking a little bit out of the wall in one corner of the stall I was in. I was able to remove myself from the restroom WITHOUT injuring myself, but not before I had to spend five minutes seriously talking myself down from opening my arm on those screw points and another five in a ball on the floor pulling myself back together. I went immediately to the security office and told them what had happened; then (because I am used to these episodes, and because I am significantly harder on myself than I have any right or reason to be) I went back out to continue serving drinks at the self serve. I was shaky, but no longer in a place where I actively wanted to hurt myself. A few minutes into this, my supervisor comes to talk to me. He takes one look at my face and at my hands (which I had balled tightly in front of me, and which were still shaking anyway) and tells me to go home - "Don't worry about the casino, go home, take care of yourself." On my way to the employee locker room - in a hallway only employees are allowed access to - I had a panic attack and went down to my knees again. I was not able to recover sufficiently to prevent EMS from being called, and spent the night in suicide watch. When I was discharged, the doctors ordered me not to return to work until Thursday (July 9). On Wednesday (July 8), I received a text from one of my managers asking me to please call the head of HR. There was no warning and no explanation as to why (I later learned she had no idea why, either). As it turns out, I was asked to call HR so that they could fire me. They had my phone number on file; there was no reason they could not have called me themselves, instead of essentially setting up an ambush. I have had no history of behavioral or work complaints, barring one customer who got mad because I wouldn't give him drinks five minutes after the casino had shut down for the night. I have never been called in to discuss my work ethic or habits, and I have never been spoken to about my behavior or demeanor. Just the opposite: Even up to the day I went on suicide watch, my managers and supervisor raved about how much of a help I was and how grateful they were to have me on board. HR officially listed my termination as "at will" - basically the common label for terminating a part-time employee who just doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the crew. However, not only was I full-time and off probation - something the casino's own handbook says PROTECTS AN EMPLOYEE from at will termination - but the timing and lack of corrective history prior to my termination make it very clear that I was fired due to my mental health. I was not spoken to prior to the termination. In the state where I live, mental health is considered a disability, for which employers are not legally allowed to terminate employment if they have prior knowledge - which, again, I made sure the casino did. Beyond that, mine is only the most recent termination since we came back from furlough that could only be called "shifty" at BEST. We have lost ten other employees before me under questionable circumstances - in one case, my previous supervisor was terminated two weeks ago and nobody seems to be able to tell us WHY. I had already been considering reporting the casino for shady and downright unhealthy practices, though I hadn't told anyone. After I had turned my stuff in, I went around to all my coworkers around the employee area exactly WHY I had been terminated. I did this knowing and fully hoping that it would encourage more of my coworkers to walk out. I still plan to report the casino for shady business practices, and am considering filing a lawsuit against them. CMA, reddit?
18k off a 4k freeroll vs. $800 to $12 to $10k. My first time playing bacc vs. most recent.
Maybe not the best gambling come up ever told, but my personal best. Not dollar wise, I've cashed out way more before. It's a long read, but worth it.... Check this shit out.... I go up to buy a vintage boat in Illinois. 12 hour drive to Texas. Due to crazy weather (worst thunderstorm I have ever driven through by far) and even crazier girls, get stuck in St. Louis. Had an incredible night with and even more incredible woman on her birthday. Start heading home back to Texas. Driving through Oklahoma it starts up again, really bad rain. Nope, not doing this again, I take the next exit. I'm in Tulsa. Exit coincidentally at the hard rock (was just gonna wait the storm out or maybe see if they would comp my room). They say no way, you don't have any players card and this ain't Vegas, you gotta do some damage to earn your free room. I'm like ok...bet....(I am a high stakes baccarat player) So I buy in with $800, tell cashier that I'll be back shortly with $10k. Yeah......okay buddy sure.... I get wrecked, down to my last $12. Feeling shitty and mad at the rain. I proceed to turn that $12 into...well alot. Table max is $1000. My new best bud Jason from OKC was there and we started killing it. We made a deal with the pit boss that if we run them out of $500 chips they would go to cage and just out the golden $1000 chips. They said yeah ok, those chips are dusty because they never need them. I hit max bet wins 9 separate times. Beat a natural 8 with a natural 9 (if you don't know bacc it's the hardest and most satisfying thing in the world) twice for table max bet if $1000. My buddy Jason and I followed each other rarely betting against each other. We wrecked that table bad and did what we said we would do, drained every $500 chip they had. Pit boss begrudgingly called the cage for the ultra rare $1000 chips. Said it hasn't happy in 3 years. In 3 hours I hit my goal, cashed out at exactly $10,000. And headed to cashier. Same girl who I told her I'd be back either broke or with 10k. Slow walk, with my best ass face on. You could tell she felt bad because unlike the dealers cahiers love when people win. I put 10 $1000 chips on the window table, and said....I don't fuck around when it comes to Baccarat. Told ya. She flipped out, couldn't believe it. Got a casino hostess, free suite which was super nice, and a free room anytime I am in Tulsa. Also there was this Mexican pimp who was like a degenerate one armed bandit (plays slot machines like a tool). He tried to hustle me for all his jewelry for like $2000. I gave him $250 but only if he included his heiña's turquoise ring as well (I am a fucking savage). So that's why I am all blinged out on the drive home. And yes, for the doubters, I didn't give a dime back and drove straight home. Going to Vegas in two weekends with some girls and an even nicer free suite. Not going to gamble at all, just rent an exotic car and finally do all the cool Vegas non strip fun nature activities Ive always wanted. Lake Tahoe, Red Rock Canyon, float trip, etc. Yes 2020 sucks but I'm tired of it brining me down. Met somebody very special and from here on out I'm dedicated. Positive vibes only!!!! 💯 Required disclaimer: I don't even like to gamble because it is super stressful for me. I only go once or twice a year. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS. Scared money don't make no money..... Oh, big shout-out to mother nature. Without those two rainstorms I wouldn't have fallen in love or had a much needed come up. If only I could have danced with my baby I'm the rain it would have been icing on the cake. Made it home safe to Texas with boat intact and a fat stack. Life is good!!!! P.s. I was taught baccarat while living in Korea for 3 years. My white ass with big blonde hair and blue eyes, and for some reason Al the older Koreans would stop me in the street saying James Dean......James Dean!!! Well I was playing in a poker tournament, this guy does the James Dean thing during a break in the tournament as I'm walking to get a quick bite if food and bathroom. It's the final table and I'm in like 3rd place with 7 players left (not too big, I think it was $300 buy in, 100 players or so) . Anyway so he stops me and says....in his best broken English, Player ....Banker...James....James (he points at each).... Player, Banker?!?! I'm like shit I dunno this weird Asian card game never even seen it. Banker is like the house right? House always wins, so I say and point banker.... Again with the natural 8 losing to natural 9, player loses. Bank wins. Guy shits a brick and slides me his winnings. He makes me sit down. I realize he bet 4.2 million won ( like ~4000USD) at the time. And he just gave it to me thinking I was his good luck charm. He taught me how to play (it's very very easy to learn bacc...) But more importantly taught me how to play with balls of steel which is a required learned skill in this game. We proceed to wreck the table, I think I cashed out somewhere close to $18k and he hit like 75k. I ended up going back to tournament damn near blinded out but still in 5th place. Took third place and took home whatever $$$ that was. Like I said I have cashed out more but my first and last times playing bacc were extremely memorable. 18k off a 4k freeroll and $800 to $12 to $10k. What do you guys think
My first time playing bacc vs my most recent time (EPIC POLL & INSANE STORY)
Maybe not the best gambling come up ever told, but my personal best. Not dollar wise, I've cashed out way more before. It's a long read, but worth it.... Check this shit out.... I go up to buy a vintage boat in Illinois. 12 hour drive to Texas. Due to crazy weather (worst thunderstorm I have ever driven through by far) and even crazier girls, get stuck in St. Louis. Had an incredible night with and even more incredible woman on her birthday. Start heading home back to Texas. Driving through Oklahoma it starts up again, really bad rain. Nope, not doing this again, I take the next exit. I'm in Tulsa. Exit coincidentally at the hard rock (was just gonna wait the storm out or maybe see if they would comp my room). They say no way, you don't have any players card and this ain't Vegas, you gotta do some damage to earn your free room. I'm like ok...bet....(I am a high stakes baccarat player) So I buy in with $800, tell cashier that I'll be back shortly with $10k. Yeah......okay buddy sure.... I get wrecked, down to my last $12. Feeling shitty and mad at the rain. I proceed to turn that $12 into...well alot. Table max is $1000. My new best bud Jason from OKC was there and we started killing it. We made a deal with the pit boss that if we run them out of $500 chips they would go to cage and just out the golden $1000 chips. They said yeah ok, those chips are dusty because they never need them. I hit max bet wins 9 separate times. Beat a natural 8 with a natural 9 (if you don't know bacc it's the hardest and most satisfying thing in the world) twice for table max bet if $1000. My buddy Jason and I followed each other rarely betting against each other. We wrecked that table bad and did what we said we would do, drained every $500 chip they had. Pit boss begrudgingly called the cage for the ultra rare $1000 chips. Said it hasn't happy in 3 years. In 3 hours I hit my goal, cashed out at exactly $10,000. And headed to cashier. Same girl who I told her I'd be back either broke or with 10k. Slow walk, with my best ass face on. You could tell she felt bad because unlike the dealers cahiers love when people win. I put 10 $1000 chips on the window table, and said....I don't fuck around when it comes to Baccarat. Told ya. She flipped out, couldn't believe it. Got a casino hostess, free suite which was super nice, and a free room anytime I am in Tulsa. Also there was this Mexican pimp who was like a degenerate one armed bandit (plays slot machines like a tool). He tried to hustle me for all his jewelry for like $2000. I gave him $250 but only if he included his heiña's turquoise ring as well (I am a fucking savage). So that's why I am all blinged out on the drive home. And yes, for the doubters, I didn't give a dime back and drove straight home. Going to Vegas in two weekends with some girls and an even nicer free suite. Not going to gamble at all, just rent an exotic car and finally do all the cool Vegas non strip fun nature activities Ive always wanted. Lake Tahoe, Red Rock Canyon, float trip, etc. Yes 2020 sucks but I'm tired of it brining me down. Met somebody very special and from here on out I'm dedicated. Positive vibes only!!!! 💯 Required disclaimer: I don't even like to gamble because it is super stressful for me. I only go once or twice a year. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS. Scared money don't make no money..... Oh, big shout-out to mother nature. Without those two rainstorms I wouldn't have fallen in love or had a much needed come up. If only I could have danced with my baby I'm the rain it would have been icing on the cake. Made it home safe to Texas with boat intact and a fat stack. Life is good!!!! FIRST TIME PLAYING BACC: I was taught baccarat while living in Korea for 3 years. My white ass with big blonde hair and blue eyes, and for some reason Al the older Koreans would stop me in the street saying James Dean......James Dean!!! Well I was playing in a poker tournament, this guy does the James Dean thing during a break in the tournament as I'm walking to get a quick bite if food and bathroom. It's the final table and I'm in like 3rd place with 7 players left (not too big, I think it was $300 buy in, 100 players or so) . Anyway so he stops me and says....in his best broken English, Player ....Banker...James....James (he points at each).... Player, Banker?!?! I'm like shit I dunno this weird Asian card game never even seen it. Banker is like the house right? House always wins, so I say and point banker.... Again with the natural 8 losing to natural 9, player loses. Bank wins. Guy shits a brick and slides me his winnings. He makes me sit down. I realize he bet 4.2 million won ( like ~4000USD) at the time. And he just gave it to me thinking I was his good luck charm. He taught me how to play (it's very very easy to learn bacc...) But more importantly taught me how to play with balls of steel which is a required learned skill in this game. We proceed to wreck the table, I think I cashed out somewhere close to $18k and he hit like 75k. I ended up going back to tournament damn near blinded out but still in 5th place. Took third place and took home whatever $$$ that was. Korea's biggest currency denomination is a 10k won bill, like $10. So I literally walked out with a paper bag filled with money, like I robbed a bank, went home and spread it all over the bed and had sex on it like I was Scrooge McDuck or Walter White or Lil Wayne. Oh to be young again. Like I said I have cashed out more but my first and last times playing bacc were extremely memorable. 18k off a 4k freeroll and $800 to $12 to $10k. What do you guys think? View Poll
OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Just take a hard left at Daeseong-dong…9
Continuing... “I say that you’re way the fuck out of line, Chuckles. Are you an educated, experienced, fully licensed and internationally renowned master blaster?” I asked. “No, but…” he tried to continue. “But nothing, Scooter.” I said, “What, other than your insane xenophobia and nationalism, causes you to come to such unfounded, not to say stupid, conclusions?” He looked down at the deck. Evidently, he was not used to being challenged in such a manner. He realized he walked face-first into a metaphorical wood chipper. “I’m waiting for your answer, pally.” I continued. Still nothing. He was either deep in thought or ill at ease from newly soggy undergarments. “Want to know why I chose what I did? Fine, meet back here in 15 damn minutes.” He looks at me with a most perplexed, and ignorant, look on his face. “Dax, Cliff? I need you.” I say. We go back to the weapons locker and I explain my idea. “Let’s load a case of typical, TYPICAL Chinese-made dynamite. Then let’s load a case of American C-4. Be very careful with that leaky Chinese shit. Wait one. I’ll do it if you want and you can handle the C-4.” I say. “Ah, Rock; yeah. We’d appreciate it. You being the Pro from Dover, after all.” Cliff agrees. “No worries”, I say, “I got this. You make me up a nice, tightly packed case of C-4. For demonstration purposes.” I find a near-empty case of dynamite and begin to judiciously fill the thing with random samples of shitty and leaky Chinese manufactured and Korean not-too-well-cared-for dynamite. This stuff was so incredibly shitty and poorly manufactured that even when leaking and nasty, it was nowhere near as dangerous as its Western counterpart. It was loaded with so much and many interstitials, like sawdust, diatomaceous earth, literal horseshit, and shredded newspaper, the nitro denatured itself to some degree as it oozed out. Plus, in the non-climate controlled weapons locker; the high humidity, salt air, and poor circulation from the small open grate facing the sea, the nitro had desensitized somewhat and evaporated. It left only sticky, thin, fly-ridden films rather than the usual ‘waiting for a good reason to explode’ puddles. It was in no way as twitchy as that locker back in Nevada. Oh, but be assured, it was still a shit show. If I really wanted to, I could blow myself, this boat and all occupants into the next dimension rather easily, but it was nothing like that old locker back in that disused Nevada mine. I still needed to be scrupulously careful as there could potentially be puddles of the pale yellow, viscous liquid explody stuff, instead of the thin films I was mostly finding. Either way, it required caution and judiciousness. Nitro’s twitchy as fuck and the last thing I need is a dropped nail, blasting cap, or hunk of the rotten box falling into an errant nitro wet patch… Extra attention was exercised. Dax and Cliff are halfway through, and I’m still picking through the leaky, smelly bundles. “Next time”, I mused to myself, “I‘m writing in a ‘Handling fucked-up explosives”-clause in my contract. No matter how much I’m being paid for this, it ain’t enough…” We find a couple of expendable, dry-rotted ‘life preserver’ floaty-rings, upon which we secure both cases of explosives. They’re tethered with a rope and primed with a number of blasting caps. I let the head local Korean crank examine both to ensure that I’m not trying to pull a fast one. He did not notice the 3-pound bag of Tannerite (an impact-actuated explosive) I snuck in the middle of the box of Chinese TNT. “Now. Satisfied that they’re equal?” I asked. “Nothing fishy here. Just dynamite in bundles, with caps. Then, over here, C-4 blocks with cap. OK?” He was satisfied; but only after letting a couple of the shiny suit squad check as well. “Well”, I smirked,” So much for your ‘covert observation’, asshole.” This guy was DPRK secret service or equivalent. “Holy cold-pack cheese-food product fuck”, I cogitate, “They are so goddamned suspicious”. I ask Dax to go over to the pilothouse and borrow the mauled AK-47 I saw hanging on the bulkhead there. They keep it for run-ins with cranky sharks, walruses, and lovesick blue-footed boobies evidently. “OK, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll float each out, and I‘ll trail with demolition wire. Once we’re a few hundred meters out, you can press the big, shiny, green button and detonate your dynamite. I even used 6 blasting caps, to give each bundle its own. You saw that. We green?” I ask. He was, although suspicious of what I had in mind. He agreed although he refused to use my terminology, the stodgy prick. So float away the dynamite case we did. The case of Chinese dynamite floated out and away from the boat, leaving an oily slick in its wake. As it got to around 200-225 meters or so, I requested a rendition of the Korean version of the Safety Dance, as it was just too fucking hilarious to watch. Once completed, I handed Doubting Korean Thomas the detonator. “Your turn, Tweedles”, I said, “Hit the button to spark off your “much-better-than-the-West’s” Oriental dynamite.” He grabbed the detonator, gnashed a tooth in my direction, and mashed down on the big, shiny, green button with a vengeance. PFftt!PAH-foof!fuff There was a cheery little pop, a puff of acrid smoke, and not much else. Let it be said from the onset that I just selected examples of the Oriental manufactured dynamite at random. I didn’t look for the worst or leakiest. Though truthfully I really didn’t have much too choice in the matter. “You! You swindled me! You knew the dynamite wouldn’t explode! Somehow you knew it!!” he swore in my general direction. “Try it again”, I said after retrieving the detonator and doing a quick re-wire to another bank of blasting caps. “Gumeong-e bul!” [“Fire in the hole!”]. MASH goes the big, shiny, green button anew. Pfffft!” *Pop. Poooof! Piffle. Blerp. Nothing but a cute little pop, a poof, and a few acrid puffs of smoke. He was crestfallen. He had taken on the Motherfucking Pro from Dover in a necessarily explosive subject, with inevitably disastrous results. I asked if anyone here was weapons trained. A couple of Coasties raised their hands. “And you are? “ I asked the closest one. “Lt. P'an Tae-Hyun, Sir”, as he snaps a snappy salute. “Groovy.”, I reply and retrieve the AK from Dax. “Can you squeeze off a couple of shots and hit that floating box of dynamite?” I asked. “Yes, sir!” he replied, smiling. “OK then”, I replied and turned to the crowd. “Dynamite is usually pretty stable stuff and won’t detonate without a blasting cap or impulse source. A bullet will most certainly not detonate it. However, I’ve stuck in 3 pounds, imperial, of Tannerite, which is a type of binary explosive used for targeting. Tannerite will most definitely and energetically explode when impacted by a high-velocity bullet. I think we can agree that an AK-47 round is high-velocity?” I asked. There were nods and a buzz of general agreement. “Now, there’s the better part of a case of unexploded dynamite out there. That’s what we in the business call very, very fucking dangerous. Now those three pounds of Tannerite should vaporize everything within a 10-meter radius if it detonates as designed. Agreed?” I asked. Again, there were nods and a buzz of general agreement. “Lieutenant P'an?” I asked, “At your discretion. Fire at will. Or the dynamite case, as it were.” He nodded. He walked over to the furthest point on the stern, checked to see everyone was back and out of harm’s way, as he was a consummate professional. He futzed around with the old AK for a bit and took a shot. It was low and outside. “Ball one”, I snickered. “Sights are off. Not any problems.” He remarked. The next round found its mark. The Tannerite exploded adeptly. It threw sticks of unexploded Chinese dynamite over a 20-meter radius. They each sank into the briny deep leaving only an oily spot to mark their entry and eventual watery grave. The top of the case of dynamite was blown off, but the floaty ring remained. We reeled it back in to find a few more scorched, but unexploded, sticks of fine Oriental manufacture explosive on the bottom of the case. These were motherfuckingly dangerous. Cantankerous dynamite has no place on a ship. I remarked, however, that this would be no problem. Dax and Cliff brought up the case of C-4, which I had wired with one single blasting cap and booster. We had Korean Doubting Thomas and his shiny suit buddies give it the once over to ensure I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one. He agreed, it was nothing but C-4 as advertised. One of the more expendable Coasties jumped down on the stern transom-rack which is just above the waterline on the back of the boat. He wired the two rings together and set them adrift, tethered by a good nylon rope with my nasty, silky demolition wires trailing. Dax was working the rope and I was handling the spool of demolition wire. I had a good 350 meters of the stuff on the spool and wasn’t about to return a single centimeter. Old habits and all. As they floated away, Mr. Kwan asked if we’d like a bit of refreshment, as, gosh, it sure was dusty out here today. Of course, we agreed in unison. Good old Mr. Kwan. So, we’re unspooling our lines slowly, drinking our end of the day refreshers, smoking cigars, and watching our Oriental colleagues getting antsier every minute. I knew what a case of C-4 was going to do when detonated. It would be one hell of a show. I was so confident with my design I had Lt. P’ay return the AK to the pilothouse. Wouldn’t work here anyways if the C-4 failed to detonate. But that’s not going to happen. Dr. Pro from Dover Rocknocker has spoken. Finally, I’m almost out of demolition wire, and Dax has tied off the tether. I motion over to Herr Doubting Thomas and hand him the detonator. “For ye of little faith”, I smiled, recalling the entreaty that even Satan quotes the Bible for his own nefarious uses. But first, an encore of the Korean Safety Dance. They're guaranteed to raise a smile. I look to the character fumbling with the detonator. “At your convenience, good sir”, I say, dripping insincerity. “Gumeong-e bul!” [“Fire in the hole!”]. Mash goes the big, shiny, green button. KA-MOTHERING-FUCKINGLY-HUGE-BOOM! Even over 300 meters away, every one of us not only saw but felt that shock wave. It was like a solid Savate kick to the chest. The boat even rocked a bit in appreciation. I smile, retrieved the detonator, safe it, and reply: “And that is the singular reason why I used good old American manufacture C-4 as a sonic seismic source rather than shitty, leaky Oriental dynamite. Any further questions?” He shook his head in agreement, bowed slightly in my direction, slunk away, and that was the very last we ever saw of Mr. Korean Doubting Thomas. The Captain saw and felt the detonation. He put the boat in park, actually, he handed it over to the sub-pilot for station keeping and came back to the fantail. He wanted to know if we were now officially finished with our project. We maintained that we were and it had come off very, very successfully; in no small degree because of his boat handling abilities. He came over to me and shanghaied one of the translators. “Doctor Stone?” he asked. “Hrmph. Close enough.” I smiled. “May I be first to congratulate your team. In eight sorties, you and your teams are the first to fulfill mission parameters. I am pleased to say that this will go on all our permanent records. It will mean bonuses for all present. I salute you.” And does with a naval flourish. “No shit? Well, thanks, Cap”, I reply, “But I’m just the den mother for this special education class. Without them, and all their hard work, it’d never have happened.” “I knew you would say this”, he smiled, “You are leader of men. We see that. You are teacher, but also not afraid to work. You should do this more often. Use your education and experience to train and teach others.” He says, shaking my hand. Now it’s time for me to wonder. Did he hear of my offer back home? I don’t think he did, I’ve been playing those cards very close to the vest, as it were. I am now officially confused and bebothered. But, since I don’t believe in anything, much less coincidence, I’m going to chalk it up to happenstance and just gratefully consider the source. He asks that we wait here and he’ll return forthwith. “On a boat this size, there are not too many places we can sneak off to…” I chuckle. He returns with a very, very old bottle of something quite unidentifiable since it appears to be lacking a label. He yells something in official Korean and suddenly, a tray with little, itty-bitty demitasse-style glasses appear along with some smoked fish, I think, nibbles of some kind. He pours a dram for all present. No one dares take as much as a preemptory sniff until he’s finished with the ceremony. Everyone thusly charged, he begins a toast. “Shoo-buddy”, I think, “I’ve been down this road before.” It was quick, succinct, brief, and laudatory. According to him, we had ‘hung the moon’. I liked this style of toasting. Left more time to drink and for camaraderie. The project thus finished, as we were running out of potables, especially freshwater, victuals, and toilet paper; we were headed back to base. That is, back to the hotel to see what our comrades who chose to stay onshore had developed. But, that was going to be for another day. First, we needed to chug our way back to port, both literally and figuratively. Ahem. Before which, though, there were some housekeeping and paperwork chores. Dax, Cliff, and I did a quick reconnaissance of the explosives locker and created a ‘used’ manifest; which all three of us signed. They may be officious, they may be obtrusive, but damn, they certainly love their goddamned paperwork over here. We gave copies to the head shiny suit, one for the Captain, and we retained copies for our records. Along with notes that we expended two rounds from the pilothouse AK, as we were trying to out-officious these officious paper-pushers. We made certain the keys were returned and logged in the proper logbooks and the explosives locker was locked securely, solidly, and soundly. Before which, we policed up the weapons locker and actually offered to the gods of the briny deep, quite the quantity of unsafe, leaky dynamite, and other ordinance that was more a disaster waiting to happen rather than inventory. Seawater would neutralize the nasties and in the case of anything metallic, it’d be gone within a fortnight. and the phosphates might provide some nice fertilizer for some lucky passing Cnidarians. We were in water of near 45 fathoms. This stuff would never hurt another living thing. The Captain was very pleased that we had taken that task upon ourselves. He wasn’t allowed to do anything about what was in the locker, but he was responsible for it and keeping the wrong people out of it. I commented that was a fairly stupid way of handling things, and he mentioned that he’d appreciate it if I made an official note of it to the powers that be once we go feet-dry, i.e., get back to shore. I assured him we most certainly would. From then on, all we had to do was putt-putt our way back to port. It was going to take some hours and we’d end up berthing during the wee hours. This would not be a problem as our bus and driver would be waiting for us no matter what the time. He would briskly and without fanfare, return us to our hotel. That we were actually looking forward to bunking back in the old hotel sort of gave one an idea of the Spartan arrangements we had endured for the last three days. Most of the Westerners groused and complained in a humorous manner. Hell, it was only three bloody days. Some of our Oriental friends were so totally aghast they vowed to lodge formal complaints once they returned to dry land. Landlubbers. Odd that once we hit the beach, they all scattered to the four winds and not a single letter nor either a peep of protest was ever forthcoming. Yes, this is an intensely weird place. We wandered down the gangplank, cigars a-fume, and drinks recently and for one last time, refreshed by Mr. Kwan. The shiny suit squad was supervising the offloaded of the seismic data we had collected and had seen it soundly sealed and concealed in the very living bowels of the bus. It was to return with us to the hotel, where we’d demand a receipt. Then it would be off to the ‘Technological Center” on Scientific Street for processing. They assured us that they’d handle that themselves. Evidently we were good enough to acquire the data, but not good enough to see the finished product. Ack, Volna, and Ivan chuckled. “OK, you pirates. What did you do?” I asked “They can try with all their might. But without the decryption key, they’ll spend years processing encoded compressed nonsense.” They snickered. “We did offer to come and help set up the decryption for the decompression of the raw data, but they said they could handle it themselves. Oh, well. We tried. Seriously, we did.” Ack and Volna snickered. “Well, keep it handy in case they come to their senses before we get out of here,” I said. “Always our intention, Herr Denmother”, Volna chuckles. “Oh, you heard that?” I snickered quietly. Back at the hotel, the majority of us sent our sea-gear to our rooms via the on-site laundry. That being settled, the majority of us retired to the catacombs of the basement. We needed strong drink, decent, non-tinned food, and seats that didn’t slop around every time you sat down. Well, with the acquisition of our sea legs, two out of three wasn’t bad. Since the hour was much too late, I decide that tomorrow, well, later today, would be a day of R&R for everyone. Moreover, I was informed that tomorrow would be the “Day of the Sun” celebration, the insanely earnest celebration birth anniversary of Kim Il-sung, founder and Eternal President of North Korea. It’s supposed to be some sort of big, hairy nationwide deal. But aside from a couple of small posters, we heard little and knew less about the holiday and its celebration. Everyone’s being even more uncharacteristically low key. It’s odd like there’s something weird going on here. “What? Something weird and covert and sneaky going on in Best Korea? Pshaw, you old fart. You’re letting the paranoids get to you!”, I mused to myself. This place will do that to you after a while. I asked the front desk to place a note that made the rest of today a day of R&R in everyone’s mailbox. After another cigar, some decent prawn stir-fry, and a couple-twelve really stiff drinks, we were all ready to invade the land of Nod for a few hours. I went downstairs for a drink, a nosh, and a smoke. I ran out of NK won as we tend to use them in Western Expat high-stakes poker games, so I needed to trade some of my weird Middle Eastern currency for weird Best Korea currency. I was used to the 900:1 won:US dollar (equivalent) trade-off, but after cashing in the equivalent of US$500 in Middle Eastern dinero, I walked off with 650,000 won, not 450,000. “Pardon me, Ms. Cashier”, I said to the nice little local woman behind the bird-cage security wires, “I do think you gave me too much.” She took my stack, re-counted it, and proclaimed it correct. “I thought the exchange rate was 900 to the dollar?” I asked. “No”, she remarked, “Now 1,336.” “Any idea what’s causing the fluctuations?” I asked. She just smiled and shook her head ‘no’. I smiled back and tipped her 50 UAE dirhams for the information. “Weird. Now what?” I mused. Little did I know… The next morning dawned dim and early as there some sort of something going on outside. Oh, yes, it was ‘The Day of the Sun’ celebration. I discovered it was is an annual public holiday in North Korea celebrating the birth anniversary of Kim Il-sung, founder, and Eternal President and local Poobah-in-Charge of North Korea. It is the most important national holiday in the country, and is considered to be the North Korean pseudo-secular equivalent of Christmas. “Well,” I thought to myself, “I picked a damn good day to call for an R&R break.” Then I found out, why no one told us about any of this is still unknown, that the next two days after the holiday would also be considered a holiday. Come to find out, there are all sorts of intrusive, inconvenient, and wholly unnecessary nonsense that accompany these high holy days here in Best Korea. There are exhibitions, fireworks, song and dance events, athletics competitions, idea seminars: “Think about it!”, and visits to places connected with Kim Il-sung's life, including his birthplace in Mangyongdae. Shops close, the hotel televisions block any other ‘programming’ and show only ‘special’ movies. Either ridiculously fake documentaries on the life of the also ever so ronrey Kim Il-sung or movies he especially enjoyed. People parade to his statue on Mansu Hill to deposit flowers; later in the day, it resembled a pollinated glacier. There’s general obviously forced elation, all of which is extraordinarily strained and appears fake. People are trucked by the groaning busload to the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun where the dead maniac lies in state. “Fuck this”, I said in the exact spirit of international amity, “I’m going to the bar.” I go downstairs to the basement bar, and even though it’s a high holy day, it’s open early. It didn’t used to be open until the afternoon, but since we’ve arrived, they have adjusted their hours for us. They have also doubled their daily receipts. So they’ve got that going for them, which is nice. One of my favorite barkeeps was station keeping that morning. I greeted him in the usual style and expressed to Mr. Ho Gun the best holiday wishes. “Hi! Ho!”, I said, “Annyeonghaseyo”, which comes out ‘Annie young eez-yo!’ in my Baja Canuckian dialect. Mr. Ho laughs at my attempt at Korean, but he does appreciate the effort. “Doctor Rock”, he says, “Dawn greetings. You will drink what?” Nice and direct, I like that. “Ye’ ken Greenland Coffee, me ol’ mucker?” I asked in a swirl of different dizzying dialects. Koran confounds me, so I thought I’d return the favor. “No, but I’m sure it’s coffee with some of your usual high-proof liquors, correct?” he smiles as I hand him a nice, oily Oscuro cigar. “For Best Most Happy Returns: Day of the Sun”, I said, waggling the stogie, as I hand it over. “However, you are correct. Normally, ‘authentic’ Greenland Coffee is a paltry 1/3rd ounce each of Whiskey, Kahlua, and Grand Marnier with excess coffee. Well, I don’t cotton to those liquors or measures. So my Greenland Coffee recipe, really from Greenland, by the way, is Siku Vodka, or any other high-octane vodka, as long as it’s premium. Then Immiak, which is Greenland’s version of Jagermeister, so let’s just go with Jager. Then finish it off with a shot of Tia Maria or Kahlua, if available. Oh, yes, then hot coffee. Silly me, almost forgot…” I conclude. “And measures?” Mr. Ho asked. “Whatever fills the cup”, I replied, in a bastardization of an old Russian toast. “OK, how about a 35 mils (~1 ounce) stiff shot each booze, then hot coffee to fill your mug? With a chilled vodka chaser, as per usual?” He asks. “Make it so, Mr. Ho,” I say. “No whipped cream or crème liqueurs, please. I’m lactose intolerant, and, well, no one wants to hear that…” He laughs and whips together a very nice morning sunriser. It’s a real day off. In a very, very weird land. It’s Festival outside and I stayed up most of the night calling people back in the world, creating and updating dossiers, doing explosives-tracking paperwork, worrying over logistics, and how and when the fuck we’re going to eventually get out of here. Fuck it, double front. I’m doing my ‘people watch’, perched high on Mahogany Ridge. I’m taking, for the first time since, hell, I left the Middle East, some real downtime. I figured I deserved it. I was the only one at the bar, but after a short time, there were festival-goers who infiltrated down into the hotel's subterranean catacombs. They didn’t know of the bar’s recently expanded hours and when they saw me sitting high up on Mahogany Ridge, smoking my ubiquitous cigar, they rejoiced. Obligatory Festival and alcohol! Better than beer and power tools. In the Baja Canada time-honored tradition, I have a pile of the local currency sitting on the bar. At the new exchange rate of 1,386 won to the dollar, I’m making out like a bandit. Drinks here are cheap, really cheap, to begin with. With this fluctuation in exchange rates, which I figured reflected the holiday, I was flush. In the chips. Well-heeled. I've got a lot of what it takes to get along. So, I was feeling magnanimous. I was tipping people very well. “Paper?” one local asked. “Sure. How much for a week-old English version of the Daily Worker’s Manifest and Pork Belly Futures Digest? 100 won? Here’s 1,000. Keep the change.” Not wanting to become over-caffeinated, I switched from Greenland Coffees after a couple to my usual potato juice and citrus concoction. Each one came in a tall, frosted gimlet glass, a very nice touch, and was expertly made my Mr. Ho after I showed him once when we first arrived. Each one, with the current exchange rate, was about 500 won; an exorbitant sum for any local. It was about US$0.40 for me. I bought several for people who bellied up to the bar and tried to engage me in conversation. I was used to handing out business cards, hell, one never knew where contacts could lead; and not receiving one in return. Today, I collected four new business cards; two from various European ex-pats, and two from locals. I guess Festival! time brings out the best and least paranoid in people. It’s only 1000 hours in the AM and people here are already seriously lubricated. This will be a fun few days. I decided to get a rather tall drink in one of my 100-ounce Kum-n-Go travel cups. With all the hoo-ha going on around here, I haven’t seen a handler, translator, or guide since we got off the boat. I decide with all the shenanigans and goings-on around the place on this festival day, no one would give me nor my wardrobe a second look if I were to venture outdoors for a walkabout. Besides, we’re on a bloody island. It’s not like I can go too damned far. So, quicker than a bunny fucks, I get my drink, fire up a cigar, and walk around the lobby of the hotel. There are the usual comings and goings of tourists, local workers, the security forces, and all that allied tat. I wait until a tour bus pulls up and all eyes are somewhere besides me. Pfft! And I’m standing outside the hotel, looking at all the sights. Which, truth be told, weren’t much. Yanggak Island is a slovenly-manicured island with shrubberies, tracks, trails, and assorted support buildings. The river is basically hidden behind stunted shrubs and nevergreens, and the remains of the defunct golf course. There’s a stadium on the island, which was thronging with festival-goers today. I don’t know what sport, if any, they play there, and didn’t care enough to ask anyone. There was a cinema hall, which was currently empty and looking in need of some dire repair. There’s some sort of Chinese health complex in the process of being built or torn down, it was hard to tell which. Needless to say, the scenery paled almost immediately. I did, after a concerted effort, find a small platform that overlooked the Taedong River. It was a very nice little observation platform with a couple of new-Tudor-esque electrical replica gas lights and two concrete benches where a weary traveler could sit and just watch the river. So I did. I was interested in the fish of the river, and wondered if any of the locals did any fishing; or if it was forbidden, as are so many ‘proletariat’ activities are in town. I did see a few locals, huddled out of plain sight, down by the shores of the river fishing with long, 10 meter, reel-less poles. In Britain, they would call this type of fishing ‘noodling’. I didn’t see them catch anything, but in the bar later, I spoke with a local who told me that they catch various species of fish here. These include Asian Aroana, Blue Guppy, Catfish, Crab, Eel, Halibut, Hucho Perryi, Octopus, Orange Guppy, Pacific Flying Squid, Rainbow Trout, Salmon, and Tuna. I’m not saying my informant was lying or embroidering the tale, but from the nasty condition of the river, I think Coney Island Whitefish, Cotton River Horse, Dumpster Trout, and Bugle-Mouthed Salmon would be the more common species. I had enough perambulation and even though I wasn’t given the least look, I felt a bit uncomfortable out here. That unfiltered sun and equally unfiltered air. After that, I wandered back to the hotel and went to enter to go to my room. “HALT! Who goes there?” some door guard yelled at me. “An American tourista who was out on a walk”, I replied. “Impossible!”, he replied, “Tourists are not allowed out without their guides.” “Look, Herr Mac”, I said, “I’m Dr. Rocknocker, and I am an invited Western Petroleum Scientist with the UN special-invited group here to evaluate the country’s oil and gas potential.” “You are not allowed.” He replied loudly. “My good man”, I replied, equally loudly, "Not allowed? Not allowed? I’m a geologist, I’m allowed everywhere.” With that, I grab the handle of the ornate door, take a slurp out of my drink, and sally forth into the hotel. Of course, he goes non-linear. He follows me and is making all sorts of bad noise. He is almost literally dancing around me, pointing, and exclaiming that I’m not allowed. Then, he made a bit of a mistake. He grabbed my arm. Really, really poor career move. I switched my drink to my left hand and executed a pretty spiffy opposite-side wrist grab on the noisy little nerf herder. He was so shocked by this turn of events, he went slightly white and was rendered mute for a short time. I frog marched the little irritant up to the front desk and asked the head clerk there to explain to my captive audience who I was and why I was here. The clerk smiled and gave the character whom I was dragging around a quick background on the guy who was currently holding him captive. When I heard “닥터 락 노커” [dagteo lag nokeo, “Dr. Rocknocker”], I dropped this guy’s hand and just took a few steps back. After a minute or two, he comes over, very, very abashed. He apologizes as he wasn’t told that any Americans were allowed outside the hotel. I told him ‘No problem’, as I really didn’t have any special permission and didn’t want to get the guy into any trouble. I offered him a cigar, which he refused, but he readily accepted the half-pack of Sobranie pastel cigarettes I had in the pocket of my Hawaiian shirt. I decided from that point to just stay inside the hotel to smoke, drink, and avoid any further Imperial entanglements. I wandered on down to the casino because I was bored and it was unusually quiet. Too hepped-up to sleep, too tired to work, it was that odd interarea between “should I be giving a fuck” and “who the fuck cares?” Leaving the basement, I wandered around the ground floor, just taking in the sights, and looking at the “Festival Specials” at the hotel shops. I found an empty, unlocked conference room that looked inviting. About two dozen chairs, a large wooden table, TV monitors, and a southern view of the city from slightly above ground level. I walked in like I owned the place, as it is always monumentally easier to get forgiveness than permission, sat down at the head of the table, propped my feet up, found an ashtray, and began playing with the remote to see what was available. Evidently, these rooms were available for rent by various factions, cadres, and other sorts of like-minded individuals. However, whoever was here last forgot to re-set the filters on the satellite television. There was real the BBC, real-time. There was German TV, Russian TV, Japanese TV, and even some American TV; all the best of the absolutely prohibited hit parade. I shut it down and left immediately. I went to find my comrades. They simply had to see this. I located Dax first, as he was losing won at a rapid rate down at the basement casino. He said he’d spread the word to any of the team members down in the tunnels and we’d meet at Conference Room #1. I had taken the precaution before leaving to move the “Occupied/Unoccupied” placard to indicate it was in use and that if you hadn’t reserved the room, you’d do best to stay the fuck out. I waited the obligatory 20 minutes for the elevator and went up to ‘our’ floor. I knocked on all the doors where I knew they were occupied by our occupants. I found a few of our team and informed them that if they were so inclined, there would be an unannounced, impromptu, and wholly illicit meeting down in Conference room number 1; complete with refreshments and real, uncensored television. They all agreed and said they’d rouse the rest of our team on the floor. I was feeling so brazen, that when I went down to the ground floor, I stopped at the front desk and ordered lunch and drinks for my team in Conference Room #1. “Oh, sir”, the desk clerk responded, “We don’t have any reservations today for Conference Room #1.” “Well”, I replied, “We are in there and if it wasn’t reserved, how would that have happened? The room would have been marked as unavailable, which it clearly was not; as it was open and available and we are now occupying it. Therefore, it wasn’t marked unavailable so it must have been available; not unavailable as you postulate. It’s almost a simple example of the single equation theory of universal containment. So we are meeting there now and requiring refreshments. It’s simply a logical progression of the facts of the matter.” “You are, of course, correct”, she immediately responded, distracted by all the Festival goings-on in the hotel, “Now, you said you’d like to order 4 dozen assorted meat and cheese sandwiches, two cases of beer, and a mixed case of bottled liquor?” “Yes”, I replied, “You see, it’s only going to be a brief meeting. I’ll also need ice, carbonated and non-carbonated mixers, sliced citrus fruit, and an on-call bartender if you have one available.” “Oh, yes sir,”, she replied, “That will be immediately arranged. Anything else?” “Yes”, I replied, “I’ll need about a dozen ashtrays, of the larger variety. Also, I am going to leave explicit instructions with you to disseminate to hotel staff that we are not to be disturbed. This is a very high-level meeting of the scientists of the IUPG. We will be discussing, umm, ‘sensitive information’”. I used the international ‘don’t-even-think-of-bothering-us’ buzzword to let her know were being very serious indeed. “Oh, yes sir”, she stiffened. “Marvelous”, I said and slipped her 1000 won for her troubles. All sighs of nervousness instantly disappeared. “Excellent. Excellent service.”, I said, rubbing both hands together most Mr. Burnsly. I go over to the conference room and see that our order has begun to already arrive. Have to hand it to them, you call for room service and you get room service. Especially if you’re well known around the hotel to be free with imported cigars, pastel cigarettes, and lavish tips. One by one, my teammates filtered in. There was everyone from out earlier pleasure cruise, and most of the force that remained back in the hotel to prepare the paperwork for our ground assault. Cigars, cigarettes, and pipes were lit. Sandwiches consumed and drinks were downed. After everyone had a chance to see their home-town, or at least home-county, version of the news, I decided that it would indeed be a good time to have a bit of a meeting. It was going nuts outside with the Festival, and as long as we were in here, we were being left alone. After the obligatory facilities break, I returned from a 40-minute round trip to my room to get a couple of my field notebooks. I wanted a record of the proceedings, no matter how spur-of-the-moment. When I returned, I thought the room looked a bit spare. I did a quick headcount and I noted we were missing someone. I glanced through my notes and saw that our Bulgarian geomechanic, Dr. Iskren Dragomirov Dinev, or ‘Iskren’ was not present. “Hey, guys”, I asked aloud, “Anyone seen Iskren lately?” There was a brief conclave and the answer was a solid negative. I called the front desk and got his room number. I asked them to ring his room for me. His room phone rang and rang and rang, but no answer. “Who last saw Iskren?” I asked the assembled crew. The Finnish PT, Joon, recalls drinking with him at the casino the night before last. He seemed normally jovial as was normal for him. “Anyone else? Or since?” I asked. Again, the answer was negative. “Something’s not right”, I thought, my rock sense was tingling. “Dax, Cliff, you’re with me.” We all left, stopped by the front desk, and asked for medical assistance. We explained where we were going and the sudden absence of our Bulgarian friend. We expressed deep concern. 25 minutes later, Dax, Cliff, me, the hotel security chief, and hotel doctor were standing outside Iskren’s room. We had pounded on the door for a good 3 minutes. He certainly wasn’t in the shower. No answer. “Fuck this. Open it”, I said. “Under whose authority?” the chief of hotel security asked. “Mine. Dr. Rocknocker. I’m the team leader of the IUPG crew. Do it.” I said. The door was laboriously opened, as both door bolt locks had to be breached. The room was dark, silent, and entirely unnerving. In the gloom, it appeared that there was a human form, unmoving, on the bed. “I’m a rock Doctor. I think we need a medical doctor here.” I said to the hotel sawbones. The hotel doctor went in without switching on the lights nor touching anything. He examined the mound on the bed. Apparently, it wasn’t a pile of dirty laundry. “Was the occupant of this room a large Caucasian male, approximately 60-65 years of age?” He asked. “Yes”, we all answered together. “I’m afraid he’s dead.” The doctor replied. Dax looked at Cliff who looked at me. In unison, all that was heard was a tripartite: “Oh…fuck.” To be continued...
My tale of almost getting caught -- can anyone here top this?
One of the members here asked this question: Anyone wanna share stories of times SO’s spidey senses were tingling and you had to do damage control? This happened many many years ago, when I was new to the "being married" life. My wife and I went to South Lake Tahoe and we were sitting together playing roulette. It was decent occupancy...all the tables were full, but not so crowded that I could not get a view of people around and about. I caught sight of a blonde stunner walking past the craps table, and she turned the corner, the casino lane took her toward our table. I was trying very hard not to stare, but this woman was simply one of the most gorgeous babes I've ever seen. Imagine Tiffany Coyne from "Let's Make A Deal" (yes, I go gaga for skinny blonde Barbies!) 🔥❤️ As she approached our table, I wondered if she was an escort. Or maybe she was already with someone and was just browsing the scene alone while her man was gambling somewhere else. She casually gazed over our table and then kept walking at a slow but steady pace. And then she passed us and was out of sight. She never made eye contact with me, so I figured she wasn't looking for company. But with my wife sitting right next to me, maybe she didn't want to waste her time with me? I couldn't think about what numbers I wanted to bet anymore, lol...I was struck with a huge dose of sexual uneasiness...my mind was wandering and I began daydreaming about her. These lingering thoughts can be so pleasurable in and of itself, and I was shifting so much in my seat that my wife asked me if I needed to use the bathroom! I said no and we continued to play. 10 minutes later, I could see the blonde again...walking the same route as she did before. I was going to get to enjoy another chance of this eye candy, and as I looked around at the others, it boggled my mind how nobody else was really looking at her. When people are deeply in their gambling and smoking and drinking, I suppose sex isn't high on the list! But being the nymph that I am, I could not resist. This time, I made a conscious effort to stare. And this time she made eye contact with me! She gave a very quick and sweet smile, and proceeded to keep walking. Again, she went out of sight. At this point, I was 50% sure that she was a high-priced escort. But there were too many unknowns to be 100% for sure. I needed more clues. I was hoping that she would walk around a third time, so that I can stare at her again and perhaps give her some flirty or inviting gesture to indicate that I'm interested. But she never came by again. After about 20-30 minutes, I didn't see her so I figured she left...maybe with somebody else or went to play slots or her room. Who knows. But my wife wanted to play something else so we grabbed our chips and left the roulette table. She went to play slots and I went to cash in the chips. Near the cashier's cage, there was a hallway that led to the restrooms. And at a short distance, I saw the blonde...and she was looking my way. I took my cash and proceeded toward the bathroom...staring at this beauty all the way. She and I locked eyes and she just blurted it out, "Hey I saw you looking at me." I thought she was going to be mad for staring, but before I could say sorry, she asked me if I wanted company! I was like... JACKPOT!!!!!! She asked if I had a room, and I said yes. I gave her the room number and told me to meet me on that floor near the elevator. But first, I needed to go tell my wife that I will be playing in the slot area too, and I made up some bullshit thing like don't come look for me because I believe it's bad luck if I have someone next to me when I'm playing the slots. She said ok. I took the elevator to my floor and when the doors opened, there she was! Did I fucking die and go to heaven? She gave me this soft hug and her body felt so nice to hold. Whatever perfume she was wearing was smelling very nice! I gently squeezed the small of her back toward me...I made sure she could feel "my excitement" in her crotch area. She was wearing a tight thin dress, so I knew she felt me. I held her hand and led her to my room. When we got inside the room, she confessed that she and her husband had lost a lot of money at Harrahs, and she was very pissed off at him. And she asked me if I would be willing to help her out. Well, at least she wasn't an escort, but nothing was going to stop me now. This was a Tiffany Coyne lookalike...and I'm fucking this woman 👉👌💦come hell or high water! I don't want to go into details, but there was no clock watching or hastiness. We took out sweet time, and I enjoyed every inch of her body. I was so built-up that I couldn't hold my cum in anymore...and ended up shooting it deep down her throat when she was sucking. But I was still hard as a rock and we kept going. We did several positions for the next 30-40 minutes.....then she got on top of me to ride me...but after about 5 minutes into that, my worst nightmare looked like it was going to happen! Someone was trying to open my hotel door! The blonde suddenly stopped riding me...I pushed her off me and jumped toward the door to hold it closed! My wife was on the other side saying, "Hey! Why aren't you letting me in?" The blonde was hiding behind the side of the bed...naked and looking worried...and I motioned her to stay quiet. I cried to my wife, I can't let you in! She kept trying to use her electronic key to open the door and I kept pushing it closed again, and she shouted, "Why not?" I repeated, "I can't! Go back downstairs! I'll meet you there!" She replied, "No, I'm tired! I want to come in the room!" I was literally feeling like this is the end...I'm gonna get caught...it's over. But suddenly, the words just came out, "I can't let you in...it's embarrassing" She asked, "What's so embarrassing??!!" I told her, "I pooped all over the floor" She asked in disbelief, "WHAT?!" I told her that I think something I ate or drank gave me diarrhea and I ended up shitting my pants before getting to the toilet, and I just want to clean it all up before letting her in. I glanced over at my blonde friend, who was trying her best to control her laughing. "Can you please go downstairs and wait until I'm done?" My wife laughed and said, "Okay, I'll be at the roulette table" The blonde and I resumed our fucking...it seemed more special after that incident...I guess we bonded being partners in crime? I didn't want to risk my wife coming back up, so I told her let's finish this and fuck me in my favorite position... the reverse cowgirl. When I was about to cum, I pushed her off and splattered her face. We both laughed so hard about what had happened earlier, and soon thereafter, we kissed and parted ways. Wish I had asked for her number...ah, my one regret! Then, to cover my tracks, I did the unthinkable. I squatted and took a shit on the carpet by the hotel door! I rubbed the shit into the fibers and onto the tile leading to the toilet. I did a half-ass job with the cleaning, so as to prove to my wife that I did have uncontrollable diarrhea. Fuck, the room smelled awful! But it had to be done. I got a $150 cleaning fee from the hotel later, but that was one expense I was more than happy to pay! My wife never did suspect anything, and to this day, I still think that this was the closest I ever came to ruining it with her. Such are the dangers of this lifestyle 😬
By going to an online on line casino slot online, gamers can expect a number of benefits like VIP plans. The best part of on the web VIP programs is most will allow you to instantaneously be a part of the moment you deposit a small payment. These VIP packages also provide extraordinary prizes like outings as well as the chance to trade factors for true income. So, looking back the greater you perform on line casino agen bola online on-line the greater money you can make through a VIP system. chilli heat In relation to on line casino agen bola terpercaya games, you'll find all your favorites like Blackjack, Online video casino, Keno, Scratch Playing cards and in some cases enormous progressive slots. Jackpots for progressive slots are already acknowledged to reach the millions on the web. The net casino even promotes the winners names and/or photographs in order to have a examine their content faces. The subsequent huge perk about actively playing on line casino agen bola sbobet on the web is the bonuses for just signing up. For example, the top casino agen sportbook will supply you in extra of $1000 Cost-free for just signing up. This way they begin your bankroll for you so you're able to carry on for being entertained. Needless to say there are stipulations before withdrawing any monies. If every one of the on the internet casinos sportsbook online just threw absent a large number of bucks it would not be the billion greenback sector it really is today. This does not mean you do not acquire - in reality on the internet casinos game tembak ikan achievement is based within the fact that it does create major winners. Consider the casino pros for example; pros like Phil Ivey have grown to be millionaires simply by enjoying casino joker gaming on the web. nusabet88 Discovering the top casino slot online terpercaya on the web even so is where the real problem lies. Like mentioned over it's a extremely competitive industry and new casinos pulsa online seem to get popping up daily. In case you check out a website like Gold Online casino slot game indonesia initial, they're able to present you with some important info first prior to creating a real money deposit. It really is constantly ideal to review on line casino internet sites very first and discover what other folks might be stating. In this way you are taking the necessary actions by playing it secure initial. With on the internet casinos will come the fly by evenings just wanting to steal your money. Caution is often recommended.
Casino Cage Cashier. Blue Dolphin Casino. Guayanilla Municipio, PR. From $7.25 an hour. Easily apply: Casino Cashiers are also called cage cashiers and are responsible for handling money, casino chips, and paperwork. Job Types: Full-time, Part-time. 16 days ago. Save job Not interested Report Job · Save job · More... - Cage Cashier new. J W Marriott 4.3. Las Vegas, NV 89145 (Angel Park ... Cage Cashier - Casino handles financial transactions including exchanging cash for casino tokens, performing credit checks, and cashing checks. Accounts for all transactions and balances books to ensure accuracy. Being a Cage Cashier - Casino requires a high school diploma or its equivalent. Typically reports to a supervisor. To be a Cage Cashier - Casino typically requires 1-3 years of ... Those of us that applied for cage cashier had to take an assessment before joining the rest of the group. 25 Multiple choice questions to make sure you can count money and give correct change. You have 15 minutes to answer all 25 questions, you have to get at least 20/25 correct to pass the assessment. After the assessment, I was told to join the rest of the group. Where we sat in a circle and ... Casino cashiers may be referred to as gaming cage workers, cage cashiers, booth cashiers or gaming change persons. They work in an area of a casino known as a cage, which is the casino's center of ... Cage Cashier Duties. A cage cashier at a casino is responsible for exchanging cash for casino tokens, and vice versa. That means a cage cashier must be able to handle financial transactions for casino patrons with skill and integrity. As with any gaming worker, she must be licensed for employment, and that may ... Casino Cage Cashier of Casino Cage Cashier modern online gaming. At Slotomania, you can start playing your favorite slot games with crazy graphics, top of the line sound effects, and hundreds of variations to choose from. Join the amazing free slots Casino Cage Cashier experience played by millions on Casino Cage Cashier Cage Cashier. Cage PT; 4000 W Comanche St, Dodge City, KS 67801; Posted 5 months ago ; Boot Hill Casino and Resort. Cage Cashier Creating Fun because Fun Lives Here! We’re looking for someone who is all about CREATING FUN! We work in an exciting environment where team members create the fun for our patrons and our team members. Every day our team members Live It, Love It, & Bring It because ... View Helen Gravedoni’s profile on LinkedIn, the world's largest professional community. Helen has 1 job listed on their profile. See the complete profile on LinkedIn and discover Helen’s ... A cage cashier is the person responsible for handling various monetary tasks within a casino environment. These tasks might include things such as making change, exchanging chips for cash, cashing out electronic gambling machine vouchers, running credit checks and performing basic bookkeeping tasks. In many areas, a license is required to hold a cage cashier position. When it comes to the most important skills required to be a casino cage cashier, we found that a lot of resumes listed 16.9% of casino cage cashiers included casino floor, while 7.7% of resumes included chip bank, and 7.3% of resumes included company assets. Hard skills like these are helpful to have when it comes to performing essential job responsibilities. When it comes to searching for a ...
Interview Questions for Cage Cashier.What makes your comforts about an Cage Cashier position?Do you prefer to work independently or on a team?What extreme ch... Interview Questions for Gaming Cage Cashier.What are your professional objectives for an Gaming Cage Cashier?What encouragement preparation would you demand ... Listen as Morgan tells you about her experience at Horseshoe Casino Baltimore as a Cage Cashier. There are many kinds of games at a casino, but they all have one bottom line: money. Exchanging cash for the chips used to play and back again from chips to cash is the job of the Casino Cage Cashier. Gun Lake Casino Cage Cashier - Duration: 1:41. Gun Lake Casino 4,707 views. 1:41. How to Deal Poker - How to Cut Chips - Duration: 9:30. truepokerdealer 115,653 views. 9:30. Fast Math Tricks - How ... Here is an inside look at what it's like to be a Cage Cashier at Gun Lake Casino.