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A New Zealander, an Irishman, and an Indian are all sitting at a blackjack table. Sounds like the set up for a joke, doesn't it? Well, unfortunately, it's not. It's what really happened. I'm the dealer, and I'm standing there mostly minding my own business, making polite small talk and dealing the cards. Though ordinarily I wouldn't bother reporting the nationalities of the SCs here, they do have some bearing on the ensuing suck.
Suck the First
Irishman sits down at the table, pleasantly exchanges money for chips, discusses the weather briefly with me, and settles down to the business of playing. Indian man starts talking to him. Well, I say talking. It was more like a cross between berating and jeering, almost.
Indian: Hey, where are you from? Scotland?
Irish: *gritting his teeth, because as I understand it, there's nothing an Irish person likes less than being mistaken for a Scottish person, especially if it's done in a jeering fashion* I'm from Ireland.
Indian: What are you doing in New Zealand? Are you on holiday? You're wasting Ireland's money in a New Zealand casino? You should be ashamed.
Irish: Actually, I live and work here. And you're spending India's money here, so you haven't a leg to stand on.
Indian: Fuck you, you fucking racist. What gives you the right to tell me how I can spend my money? I'm fucking loaded, I don't give a shit. I'll fuck you up, do you want to take this outside and settle it right now?
Irish: *grits his teeth harder, pointedly tries to ignore him*
Indian: *continues in this fashion until the Irish man gets up from the table and complains to management about him*
Me: *stands there and keeps dealing, because I'm not supposed to get involved once the higher-ups have been involved*
But it didn't end there. For some reason (perhaps he was glutton for punishment?) Irish came back to the table, sat in the same seat next to Indian, and proceeded to verbally fight back every time Indian made a racist comment to him. The two of them were as bad as each other, honestly. I mean, Indian started it, but by the end of it I wanted to smack the two of them, because they were both making everyone else at the table SO uncomfortable.
Suck the Second
You might be thinking that I've forgotten the Kiwi guy I mentioned at the beginning. I haven't. He just wasn't directly involved in the first suck - he was busy creating one of his own. You've all met this type of guy in your travels, I'll warrant. He's the guy who has a couple of drinks, then starts dropping F-bombs every second word, but when called out on his behavior, denies ever having cursed.
Thing is, though, I'm allowed to warn for that sort of language, and I did, two or three times. I was getting steadily more and more angry - there's a line, and I can ignore it up to a point, but he was getting beyond a joke. I was about at the end of my rope...
Suck the Third
...then he teamed up with Indian for the triumphant final number.
They started small. A couple of scantily clad girls walked past (circus performers, as it happened. We're having something called a Busker's Festival in one of our bars, and they were walking from our staffroom, to said bar, to perform). Kiwi and Indian loudly decide that clearly, these two girls are prostitutes, hired by the casino to service the staff.
It didn't stop there. They singled out B, one of my most beloved pit bosses, for their next trick. Thing about B is, he's a bit old, a bit doddery, and with his big thick glasses on, he's sort of a dead ringer for Mr. Magoo. But he wouldn't have got to where he is if he couldn't do the job, and he has been doing the job for some years now. And we love him - for all he seems to blunder and blether, he's remarkably good tempered for someone in our line of work. So when Indian and Kiwi start yelling for him to come over, only to tell him that he's a "daft mother fucker", I started to really see red. But I kept on dealing...
And then came the final straw, the thing that actually broke the camel's back. When B (bless his heart) didn't quite realize that he was being insulted, and instead chuckled cheerfully like they were having a laugh with him, patted them on the back and ordered them a round on him for being such good sports, they found a new way to entertain themselves. It consisted of looking around at everyone in uniform and (loudly) deciding which of us they deemed gay, and which of us they decided had to be straight.
Interesting, out of the many people they decided were gay, they managed to miss the one lesbian on the floor - me. And don't for a second think it was tact, because they hadn't shown an ounce of that up till this point. They were just stupid feckless racist homophobic offensive assholes.
It was at this point that I took the lid to my float, slammed it on, and called my supervisor over. I pointed out Kiwi and Indian, told her exactly what they had been saying and doing (Irish was mostly just pouting into his Guinness at this stage since Indian wasn't engaging with him any more) and demanded that they be dealt with.
Indian and Kiwi say that I've got no right to tell them what they can and can't say, that I'm just a dealer and should get on with dealing, and that what's more, they hadn't even been swearing, not one little bit. Luckily, J (the supervisor) had been listening (how could she not? They were so loud, I'm surprised you all didn't hear them for yourselves!!) and she proceeded not only to back me up, but to roundly reprimand them. They demanded that I be switched out for another dealer, but J said "No! Why should she be made to leave? She's not the one being utterly crude, infantile and disrespectful!"
At that point my shift was over, so I WAS relieved from table anyway, but I heard later from J that they weren't made to leave. I'm not surprised. They were dropping $200-400 a hand, there was no way management was going to turn them away unless they threw the table over and punched me. (I'm exaggerating.) (But not by much.)
Anyway, that's my tale of woe. If anyone managed to get through the whole thing, I'll be astounded! And though I'm done with this particular story, you needn't worry. I'll be back with others (and stories from when I was a cashier in a supermarket, too.)
Suck the First
Irishman sits down at the table, pleasantly exchanges money for chips, discusses the weather briefly with me, and settles down to the business of playing. Indian man starts talking to him. Well, I say talking. It was more like a cross between berating and jeering, almost.
Indian: Hey, where are you from? Scotland?
Irish: *gritting his teeth, because as I understand it, there's nothing an Irish person likes less than being mistaken for a Scottish person, especially if it's done in a jeering fashion* I'm from Ireland.
Indian: What are you doing in New Zealand? Are you on holiday? You're wasting Ireland's money in a New Zealand casino? You should be ashamed.
Irish: Actually, I live and work here. And you're spending India's money here, so you haven't a leg to stand on.
Indian: Fuck you, you fucking racist. What gives you the right to tell me how I can spend my money? I'm fucking loaded, I don't give a shit. I'll fuck you up, do you want to take this outside and settle it right now?
Irish: *grits his teeth harder, pointedly tries to ignore him*
Indian: *continues in this fashion until the Irish man gets up from the table and complains to management about him*
Me: *stands there and keeps dealing, because I'm not supposed to get involved once the higher-ups have been involved*
But it didn't end there. For some reason (perhaps he was glutton for punishment?) Irish came back to the table, sat in the same seat next to Indian, and proceeded to verbally fight back every time Indian made a racist comment to him. The two of them were as bad as each other, honestly. I mean, Indian started it, but by the end of it I wanted to smack the two of them, because they were both making everyone else at the table SO uncomfortable.
Suck the Second
You might be thinking that I've forgotten the Kiwi guy I mentioned at the beginning. I haven't. He just wasn't directly involved in the first suck - he was busy creating one of his own. You've all met this type of guy in your travels, I'll warrant. He's the guy who has a couple of drinks, then starts dropping F-bombs every second word, but when called out on his behavior, denies ever having cursed.
Thing is, though, I'm allowed to warn for that sort of language, and I did, two or three times. I was getting steadily more and more angry - there's a line, and I can ignore it up to a point, but he was getting beyond a joke. I was about at the end of my rope...
Suck the Third
...then he teamed up with Indian for the triumphant final number.
They started small. A couple of scantily clad girls walked past (circus performers, as it happened. We're having something called a Busker's Festival in one of our bars, and they were walking from our staffroom, to said bar, to perform). Kiwi and Indian loudly decide that clearly, these two girls are prostitutes, hired by the casino to service the staff.
It didn't stop there. They singled out B, one of my most beloved pit bosses, for their next trick. Thing about B is, he's a bit old, a bit doddery, and with his big thick glasses on, he's sort of a dead ringer for Mr. Magoo. But he wouldn't have got to where he is if he couldn't do the job, and he has been doing the job for some years now. And we love him - for all he seems to blunder and blether, he's remarkably good tempered for someone in our line of work. So when Indian and Kiwi start yelling for him to come over, only to tell him that he's a "daft mother fucker", I started to really see red. But I kept on dealing...
And then came the final straw, the thing that actually broke the camel's back. When B (bless his heart) didn't quite realize that he was being insulted, and instead chuckled cheerfully like they were having a laugh with him, patted them on the back and ordered them a round on him for being such good sports, they found a new way to entertain themselves. It consisted of looking around at everyone in uniform and (loudly) deciding which of us they deemed gay, and which of us they decided had to be straight.
Interesting, out of the many people they decided were gay, they managed to miss the one lesbian on the floor - me. And don't for a second think it was tact, because they hadn't shown an ounce of that up till this point. They were just stupid feckless racist homophobic offensive assholes.
It was at this point that I took the lid to my float, slammed it on, and called my supervisor over. I pointed out Kiwi and Indian, told her exactly what they had been saying and doing (Irish was mostly just pouting into his Guinness at this stage since Indian wasn't engaging with him any more) and demanded that they be dealt with.
Indian and Kiwi say that I've got no right to tell them what they can and can't say, that I'm just a dealer and should get on with dealing, and that what's more, they hadn't even been swearing, not one little bit. Luckily, J (the supervisor) had been listening (how could she not? They were so loud, I'm surprised you all didn't hear them for yourselves!!) and she proceeded not only to back me up, but to roundly reprimand them. They demanded that I be switched out for another dealer, but J said "No! Why should she be made to leave? She's not the one being utterly crude, infantile and disrespectful!"
At that point my shift was over, so I WAS relieved from table anyway, but I heard later from J that they weren't made to leave. I'm not surprised. They were dropping $200-400 a hand, there was no way management was going to turn them away unless they threw the table over and punched me. (I'm exaggerating.) (But not by much.)
Anyway, that's my tale of woe. If anyone managed to get through the whole thing, I'll be astounded! And though I'm done with this particular story, you needn't worry. I'll be back with others (and stories from when I was a cashier in a supermarket, too.)
to 
!
It won't happen again.
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