I worked at a casino doing security. I had just gotten out of the military where I had previously been qualified in a bunch of things that revolved around security and response to active shooters, etc. 

One night, during a busy evening, the panic/hold-up alarm went off, and the station that sounded it could not be reached. It was treated as a legitimate situation. I cleared out my section of the casino and moved to clear out other sections and help old people get away.

After that, I started clearing the staff out, as well; it seemed to take the security staff, including the director, a ridiculous amount of time to investigate and or clear the situation. It turned out to be nothing. Someone bumped a panic button and went on break or something.

I was pulled into the office where I was berated by the security staff supervisors for clearing out the building and sending everyone outside. They asked me why I did it.

Me: “The current FBI guidelines for these kinds of situations are ‘Run, Hide, Fight.’ So, the first priority is removing everyone from the area that’s under threat. The second would be hiding said people, but I was able to remove them, so I didn’t have to.”

My Director: “That’s incorrect. You are responsible for everyone leaving the casino, and you are going to be reprimanded. You have no experience with these situations and should be sent to training again.”

Me: “Can you clarify the FBI guidelines, then, if that’s incorrect?”

She couldn’t do that. When challenged and asked if I’d ever had active shooter training, I stood up and said:

Me: “I’ve been trained in responding to the active shooter as an armed law enforcement officer. Your lack of understanding of simple guidelines is terrifying to me. I quit. I won’t be giving my two weeks’ notice; this is the last time I’ll be in this building.”

She laughed.

My Director: *Laughing* “Well, then, we won’t be able to recommend you as a reference.”

I laughed, too.

Me: “I won’t be telling anyone I ever worked here. It won’t help my chances.”

I’m a transwoman in her thirties, and I work at a casino. For whatever reason, most people assume I’m a guy, and since I’m probably never going to see these people again, I don’t usually bother correcting them unless they’re a regular.

One night, near the end of my shift, I assist a very drunk middle-aged man who has won a jackpot. I collect his information and return with the money after a few minutes.

I want to give him his money, but he’s paying too much attention to the people playing next to him to notice me. Eventually, he sees me, and I’m able to get him to sign the paperwork so I can give him his winnings.

Apparently, he sees that I’ve painted my nails, and he compliments them.

Man: “It’s great that we can be more open about ourselves. It was a lot harder when I was younger. I’m bi, and I feel like I wasted my youth not being able to be open about my sexuality. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Not thinking anything of it, I say no. Before I go return his paperwork — which is still in the clipboard in my hand — he asks for a hug. I’m not really comfortable with this, but I’m not comfortable with confrontation or telling people no, either, so I agree. Some guests (mostly the women) get excited and huggy, so it’s not too strange. I agree, and he hugs me… and starts rubbing my back a little.

Ewwwww… but I’m at work, so I have to be polite. He lets go, I congratulate him again, and I run off.

I basically stay away from that whole area, but he manages to see me anyway. He starts talking about how great it is to see someone like me (a “gay man”, I assume), and how it was harder when he was younger and it wasn’t safe to be openly gay. I start to lend a sympathetic ear, thinking maybe he just wants someone to talk to and thinking that the experiences of our elders are worth listening to.

He’s talking, kind of rambling, and he mentions his room number. At this point, I realize he’s hitting on me. I very politely try to turn him down, but I think he’s too wasted to understand me.

I start backing up a little, but he starts coming forward a little. Eventually, I’m next to a low wall next to a row of games, with him (thankfully not me!) toward the corner. And he’s still talking. I mention that I’m not really interested in hooking up with anyone right now, hoping he’ll get the hint (is that even a hint?) that I don’t want to hook up with him. He entreats me not to “be that way” and waste my youth not hooking up with… random strangers, I guess?

He’s telling me that I’m a good-looking guy, so I try to tell him that I’m not really a guy. Really, I don’t want to out myself as trans to some rando, but maybe he’ll stop hitting on me if he knows I’m not a guy? He doesn’t seem to get it, and whether he’s gay or bi, I doubt it’d matter.

He notices that I’m kind of backing away, with this low wall between us. He tells me that I shouldn’t be uncomfortable, because he’s a great guy, etc, etc. But I can’t get away; not only do I have to be polite because I’m working, but I don’t know how this drunk is going to react if I try to be sterner.

But none of that is the worst bit. No, the worst part is when he tells me, explicitly, what sorts of sex acts he enjoys and how he’s so good at them.

I’m screaming inside, praying for death — his or mine, I’m not picky right now. Just somebody, end this.

Finally, the time has come for me to put my stuff away and go home. Of course, I’ve mentioned multiple times before that I should get back to work, but he didn’t care. “Oh, yes, of course,” he’d say, before starting right up again.

But now I can’t wait. I already got in a little trouble for clocking out late a few days ago, so I’m not about to leave late again. I excuse myself one more time, telling him I HAVE to go now, and run off. Maybe I should have done that earlier, but I’m really not used to that kind of situation.

On my way out, though, I decide to warn one of my coworkers about him. My coworker’s a good-looking guy himself, who sometimes wears nail polish and earrings, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the guest tried to hit on him, too — though maybe the fact that my coworker has a wife might deter him… maybe.

My coworker has seen the guy, so he knows whom I’m talking about and offers to help me out if I need rescuing again.

I go home, hoping that’s the end of it.

But it isn’t. The very next day, I see the guy again. This time, however, he’s sober and much easier to deal with. He apologizes for his behavior, explaining that people kept buying him drinks and he kept drinking them until he’d had too much.

From now on, I’m not hugging anyone I don’t want to. My therapist approves.

That took a while to write, but trust me, the actual experience felt like it lasted forever.

I am on a family trip with my parents, my uncle, and his three kids. My uncle’s wife divorced him, leaving him to take care of his kids. My parents run a small leather business, so they’re going to be selling to gas stations and a few other places. They dump [Uncle], the kids, and me at the hotel, which has a casino inside. I watch TV for a bit, and then [Uncle] comes to my room.

Uncle: “Hey, I’m going out. Watch the kids?”

He then leaves before I can get a word in edgewise. I go down to the front and find that they also have a daycare center. Thank God. I ask them to charge it to the card the hotel is on, and then I head off to the casino. Eventually, [Uncle] comes over.

Uncle: “Where are the kids?”

I point him to the daycare center. It is of note that he has had anger issues in the past. These come into full effect as he starts yelling at me. I ignore him and go back to my game.

Security comes over, and [Uncle] is suddenly meek and quiet.

Uncle: “I asked [My Name] here to watch my kids, and now they’re nowhere to be found.”

Me: “He didn’t ‘ask’ me; he just said, ‘Watch the kids?’ and left. They are now at the daycare.”

It becomes a he-said-she-said situation, so I stand up, beckoning for them to follow, and lead them to the daycare.

Apparently, [Child #1] was too wild, and [Child #2] had hit another child and made them bleed. [Child #3] is coloring. [Uncle] has to pay an extra fee, and [Child #2] has to be moved to a special group.

Eventually, my parents come back, wondering what this charge on their card is. The hotel staff explain, and they are not happy.

Tomorrow comes, and guess what? [Uncle] takes off again, this time without telling me. I only find out when [Child #3] knocks on my door. Apparently, his brothers pushed him out and locked the door behind him. He asks if we can go back to the daycare, and I ask the hotel staff to charge me this time.

I eventually go back to the casino and play a few rounds, but the hotel staff come to me, saying there’s been a noise complaint. I ask them to call my parents’ number, and they agree.

Eventually, I run down on cash and go back to my room. My parents and [Uncle] are in the middle of the hallway, arguing. I slip past them and into the room and turn on the TV.

Later, I come out for a snack, and they turn to me, asking why I didn’t check on the kids. I tell them [Uncle] didn’t even knock on my door; [Child #3] did. I then realize he’s still down at the daycare, and it is quite late. I run quickly down and find he’s playing hide and seek with a few other kids. I bring him back up.

My parents and [Uncle] are still arguing. It’s a mess.

This goes on for several days. [Uncle] tries to dump kids on me, I refuse, and I either go to the arcade, stay in and watch TV, or go to the casino. I eventually rack up quite a bit of money. I had $150 at the start, and that turns into almost $400.

It’s been almost a week here, and everyone is getting really sick and tired of [Uncle]’s crap. [Child #3] can now walk down to the daycare and back, all on his own. [Child #1] and [Child #2] get lost several times and have to be found by hotel staff.

This all boils up when the hotel manager knocks on our door, telling us that we’ve had several noise complaints, broken items, and wandering children.

I point out that it’s not us, it’s [Uncle], so he should pay for it, or at least be here. Lo and behold, who opens his door? It’s [Uncle]. In the split second that his door is open, I can see the broken TV, towels and blankets all over the floor, and the curtains ripped down.

The hotel manager apparently misses this, asking about the noise violations and crashes they’ve been hearing. [Uncle] becomes increasingly agitated and aggressive. During this, I see [Child #3] come around the corner on his way back from the daycare. I quickly wave him away, and he turns to leave. But then, my mother sees him. She begins to question [Uncle] on why [Child #3] is out. I slowly walk [Child #3] back to the daycare.

But when I get back, the argument has reached a fever pitch. I hate yelling, and [Uncle] is screaming. He turns on me.

Uncle: “Your job is to watch the kids, and you couldn’t even do that!”

At this point, I’m done. I’ve been sharing a room with my parents for a week, I can’t go anywhere without getting harassed by [Uncle], and I can’t stay in cause of the noise [Child #1] and [Child #2] make. I turn on [Uncle] and start screaming.

Me: “YOU THINK I WANTED TO WATCH YOUR TWO LITTLE BRATS? YOU DIDNT EVEN ASK! YOU JUST DUMPED THEM ON ME AND GOT ALL TICKED OFF WHEN I BROUGHT THEM TO SOMEONE WHO COULD ACTUALLY GIVE THEM ATTENTION! LITERAL DEMONS WOULD BE BETTER THAN THOSE BRATS YOU CALL KIDS! NO WONDER [CHILD #3] DOESN’T WANT TO BE AROUND THEM! THEY CLEARLY LEARNED THEIR LACK OF MANNERS FROM YOU! THANK GOD [CHILD #3] IS ACTUALLY SANE! IT’S NO WONDER YOUR WIFE LEFT YOU IF YOU ACT LIKE THIS!”

I turned and marched back into the room, flopped on my bed, and turned on the TV. I snubbed my parents when they came back in, seeing as I was still mad.

It turns out they had paid for all of [Uncle]’s mess (again), and we were now banned from the hotel. Including me.

I yelled, but what else did I do?

At my casino, there is a lady playing a progressive jackpot slot machine. For those who don’t know, that means that for every credit/coin played, the jackpot goes up by some fractional amount. As this is a $1 machine, for every dollar played, the jackpot goes up by one penny. When someone hits the jackpot, the top prize will reset to $1,000. At the time of this story, the top prize is over $1,300.

The lady at the center of the story is a known problem, but she is a very wealthy problem, so the casino executives fall over themselves to make her happy. This gives her an even bigger sense of entitlement, and she treats us employees like crap.

One evening, she calls me over demanding to speak to our gaming officers on duty. These are the state regulators in charge of making sure the state gaming laws are adhered to, and they are highway patrol officers on a six-month assignment to this position. They don’t come out to talk to people.

As is the procedure, I ask what the problem is, but she doesn’t want to talk to me, since I’m just an employee. I offer to call a shift lead, then a slot manager, and then the property manager on duty. All get shot down, so I call a manager to handle her.

When the manager gets there, the lady finally realizes she’s not getting a gaming officer without reason. It should be noted this woman is Black.

Customer: “This slot machine is racist. I have seen loads of white people win tonight, even on the machines next to mine. I have not seen a single Black person win a jackpot tonight, and I want this machine shut down and investigated. If I take my player’s card out of the machine, I win. When I put it back in, I only lose. I want this racism investigated, and I want it done now.”

By this point, the crazy is oozing out of her pores, and my manager has the slot technicians come over. These guys don’t deal with customers; they deal with machines. The story gets relayed to the techs, they reach inside, flip the power switch off, look at the lady, and tell her:

Slot Technician: “We’ll handle this, but since you made the accusation, we have to shut down the racism.”

She actually liked that answer.

I work security at a casino. A man and woman come up to me.

Customers: “There’s a man following us.”

Me: “Do you know him?”

Customers: “Yeah, he’s the loan shark we borrowed $2,500 from a couple of weeks ago.”

They were escorted safely to their car and then barred for a year.