Lunzie

If it weren’t for the obscene amount of money that can be made, I’d quit right now. I swear to God, I would.

I had originally just planned on quitting, but DH talked me into waiting and discussing things with my boss. I talked to him lastnight, and he was frustrated (because my school schedule is weird), but wanted to work with me.

They actually told me that if I wasn’t such a good employee, they would have kicked me to the curb by now, but they wanted me to stay, and because of that, they would work around my wonky schedule. I told them how much I hate the ten hour shifts, and how I miss having my weekends, and they reminded me that if I want to make the big bucks, that’s when I have to work. (Let’s not mention that we pool our tips, and that they only count them twice a week, so when I bust my ass on a Saturday night, I make the same amount as Joe Schmoe who works on a Tuesday afternoon and does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING–it’s very frustrating)

So I am to put together a schedule and bring it to my boss on Tuesday. He said he will look at it, and do his best to give me the hours that I request. Saweet. Where else do you get to make up your own schedule??? They must REALLY like me!

I, on the other hand, still have the same objections that I did before about the general work environment. A casino is NOT an uplifting place to work. The people who come in fit into several categories, but most of them are pretty desperate. Sure, there are the ones who come in for a night of fun with the girls, and they drink and carry on and leave with no money, but they are cool with that.

It’s the ones who come in and spend their paycheck, expecting to win something, that bother me. They come out of the casino all frowny and grumpy, and treat you like you just burned their last dollar. They don’t tip. They smoke, and drive crappy cars because they spend all their money on pay-per-view, junk food, and gambling. I know this because they tell me, and because they are generally overweight.

Granted, this is only a portion of the guests, but it is a sad scene.

Plus, the guy with the pee car still comes in. Eeewwww!!! Go away, Pee Daddy!!

Anyways, I am staying, for the time being. They gave me a hard time about changing my mind, but I explained to them that this Calculus course I’m taking is a LOT more labor-intensive than I thought it was going to be. Not only do we get regular homework, we get group assignments that we have to work on outside of class in our specific groups (have you ever tried to get a bunch of young college guys to make an actual SCHEDULE???), PLUS, we have labs every Thursday to complete, and if you don’t get it done in class, guess what: you have to do it outside of class.

I didn’t do very well on my first test. Mostly because I didn’t have time to finish it all. I was sitting there on page 3 of 4 when the prof let us know that there was a class coming into the room in about ten minutes. Ack!

OMG teh wrok maeks teh big bucks fer teh LNZ!!!!111one!!

Until the end of the month, I have two jobs. One is a service-based job in a real estate office, and the other is as a valet at a local gaming establishment.

Over time, one realizes the massive difference between the two service-based businesses.

One business serves by offering services related to home buying/selling, paperwork, marketing, et cetera. The other is pure entertainment.

I actually feel sorry for some of these people who come to the casino. I mean, they do it of their own volition, but I wonder if a better education would have prepared them for the risks of gambling their paychecks away. I wonder if their circumstances would have changed the amount of alcohol they consume during an evening.

But as I watch them drag their oxygen tank behind their walker with one hand, and desperately hold on to that cigarette with the other hand, while complaining about how loud the live band is, and telling their poor valet that they gambled away all their money and that’s why they can’t give you a tip. Then they start spouting off about how terrible it was that they didn’t win anything, and they say things like “This place has us so far in debt!”

Good Lord people. Take some responsibility for yourself.

On the other hand, these are exactly the kind of people who make my job so lucrative. I am literally making money off of people’s weaknesses, addictions, and risky behavior. A part of me feels sorry for them. Hopefully they get some entertainment from what they do.

As I drive their car up to the dropoff, where their obese bodies are snugly tucked into the wheelchair provided by the casino, I look at the “Check Engine” light on the dashboard, and the cracked windshield, and I shake my head.

They have noone to blame but themselves.