This is a story from my mom and my grandmother. They gave me permission to post.

Quite a while ago, both my mom and my grandmother worked for one of the local casinos. 

At the time, the casino had a ninety-day trial, and then you would get insurance.

During the course of them working there during the ninety-day trial, the Casino switched their policy to an eighteen-month trial before getting insurance. So, they then proceeded to “find” reasons to fire all of their employees who were coming up on the ninety-day mark so that they would not be grandfathered in.

My mom knew this was coming because she saw person after person who had been hired a little bit before her get fired for ridiculous reasons. 

So, when she got called into the office the day after she had to go to the hospital for a severe allergic reaction, she knew what was coming. They marked it as a no-call no-show because she started having a severe allergic reaction on shift, and her EpiPen didn’t work.

She walks into the office, and she’s informed that due to her no-call no-show, she is being let go effective immediately. 

She asked for her final check. 

They informed her that she would receive the check after she turned in her uniform. My mother proceeded to strip down to her underwear and bra, drop the uniform on the supervisor’s desk, and demand her last check.

She stood there, in her underwear, for forty minutes while they tried to convince her to turn the uniform in on a later day.

My Mother: “Nope, you said I’d get my check when I turned in my uniform. There is my uniform. I want my check.”

Eventually, they wrote out a check. She then walked out, taking the LONG route through the casino, saying goodbye to all the staff and regulars on her way out.

So, a couple of days later, when my grandma had her shift, she knew what to expect. Because she was coming up on that same time frame. And my grandma proceeded to do the Exact. Same. Thing. 

My grandma walked through the crowded casino in her underwear!

An acquaintance of mine is looking for work. She’s good with table games, so I tell her the name of my manager at the casino where I work and say:

Me: “Go to the casino and ask for [Manager’s Name]. That’s the best way to start.”

A few weeks later, my manager stops me in the hall.

Manager: “Hey, do you know a woman named [Acquaintance’s Name]?”

Me: “Yeah, I do. Did she come in to talk to you?”

Manager: *Raising an eyebrow.* “Not exactly. She put your name and my name down on her application as personal contacts. Then, in her group interview, before she even introduced herself, I asked her, “So, how do you know [Manager’s Name]?”

I freeze. 

Manager: “She laughed and said, ‘Oh, I don’t. My friend, [My Name] told me to say I know you, so I’d get the job.'”

Me: “I… never told her to do that.”

Manager: “Yeah, I figured. Don’t worry. She didn’t get the job.”

She walks off, leaving me red-faced. Even though I think she believed me, I feel awkward every time I see her after that. That’s the last time I offer to help any of my acquaintances get a job here!

Many years ago, my family (myself, my two brothers, my sister, my sister-in-law, and my parents) went on vacation to Las Vegas. Everyone was very hyped up for it, except for me, as the youngest of the group; the story about being twenty in a city where you had to be twenty-one to do most anything, like be present in casinos, is a can of worms that need not be opened.

This is the story of how the trip ended.

We’d been in Vegas for about a week. I was bored: there’s only so much to do when you can’t gamble, and I’d done what I had wanted to do. We went to the Stratosphere and up the bar there (I studiously stayed in the shadows and didn’t get carded, but also didn’t drink).

After we’d had our fun, we went downstairs, and my father and my two brothers decided to stay and gamble for a bit. No worries, we had to check out of our hotel by 11 AM and our flight home wasn’t until 3 PM. They said they’d be back at the hotel later and settled in at a blackjack table. This was at about 9:30 PM.

When I woke up the following morning, my mother, my sister, and my sister-in-law were P***ED. My brothers and father were nowhere to be seen. I got the full story later.

Apparently, when they settled in at the blackjack table, they REALLY “settled in”. They ordered drinks, they played low-stakes blackjack, they made friends with the dealer (and the second dealer when the first dealer’s shift ended, and the THIRD dealer when the second’s ended). The table wasn’t hot or anything, but it was consistent, and they were getting pretty drunk. Drinks were free as long as you were gambling, after all.

Around 4 AM, another player joined their table. When the waitress came around for drink orders, one of my brothers, who was three sheets to the wind after four rum and Cokes in the last six hours, asked for another rum and Coke. The new arrival asked for coffee.

Brother: “You can get coffee?! I’ll have a coffee!”

Waitress: “Sure.”

Brother: “And another rum and Coke!”

And so the night continued. They stayed at the blackjack table for TWELVE… HOURS!

When I woke up the following morning, they were still there. My mother and sister, and sister-in-law were upset because, as far as they knew, the rest of the family was missing.

And when they did show up at 10:30 AM in the morning, still absolutely drunk and also exhausted from being up all night? Oh boy…

My father tried to calm my mother and explain that he had a headache and was sorry, and he really needed to pack because we had to check out in thirty minutes. This did nothing to placate her: it was HIS FAULT that he had a headache and had to rush, and besides, she had already packed all his stuff, and he had no choice but to sit there and take it.

My oldest brother and his wife didn’t talk to each other. For hours.

My other brother came back to his hotel room, threw everything into his suitcase haphazardly, and promptly passed out. He passed out again on the trip to the airport. And at the airport. And on the plane. And on the trip from the airport back home. And for most of the next day.

Me? I was content to watch, once I was assured that everyone was okay.

The crowning jewel of the foolishness of the men in my family? While we were waiting in the hotel lobby for the shuttle to take us to the airport, my father and my brothers walked over to the lounge, ordered cocktails, and wandered over to the slot machines.

The dope slaps were righteously furious.

I work in a popular bar in a fancy hotel/casino on the Las Vegas strip. We’re known for crazy and elaborate cocktails, so the price tag matches.

Customer: *Slapping the bill on the bar.* “Twenty-five dollars? For a cocktail? Are you kidding me?”

Me: “No, sir, that’s the menu price.”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous! Back home, I can get a drink for five bucks!”

Me: “And back home, you don’t have the Bellagio fountains behind you.”

Customer: “It’s robbery!”

Me: “Well, sir, it’s Vegas. You’re not paying for the drink, you’re paying for something much more priceless; plausible deniability for the rest of the night.”

The customer grumbles but still tips a few bucks, because, well… the drink IS very strong.

I was working a busy Saturday night as a cashier at my casino, cashing out poker chips, slot machine tickets, and bank card transactions. It was a very busy night, and there were lines several people deep at every available cashier window.

As I was closing for my break, my last guest asked me:

Guest: “Why is it, on a busy Saturday night, you only have a small number of cashiers? Don’t you know it’s going to be busy?”

Me: “Yes, sir, unfortunately, some cashiers are off sick tonight. Remember to wash your hands, sir. Have a good night.”

He just stood there, dumbfounded, like he didn’t expect me to have an answer. Did he think we short staffed for funsies? Did he expect any business trying to make a profit would keep “extra” staff on hand just in case? Did he think that not washing his hands couldn’t possibly affect anything else in his life?

The world may never know.