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7:36 a.m. - 2005-07-15
Bu who?
I’m so fond of Chiv it’s not even right. If you've any sense at all you’ll click that link and prepare to be fond as well.

Meeting at work. Seems the verbal warning-meister (me) is being transferred to another casino. Since change is for jerks, I didn’t break into the charleston when I heard the news.

However. I’m keeping an open mind due to the fact that I usually think I’ll hate everything and only hate just about everything.

There is a regular at the casino name of Bu. He is Chinese, in his fifties prolly, and all but lives in the place. I like Bu. He has an addiction no doubt, but he has learned to contend with it the same way a functional alcoholic would. He is pleasant, and pretty funny too. Someone said he could never stop gambling and he replied, “Wanna bet?”

The whole moral dilemma associated with working in one of Satan’s industries still fucks with me sometimes. I took this job knowing that it would. I knew that there was a depraved side to this world, fuck, probably more than a side, but that was part of the attraction. I expected to really see people, see them when they are less guarded. The emotions run so high that there is no hiding them.

Of course the dark element of folks shows through when they are losing money that they shouldn’t even be betting, and it is not pretty at all. Of course you see people get generous and all good-will–‘tward-manish when they are on a hot streak, and that is fun. There are other more solid truths that come out in both of these situations though.

The honest guy who is friendly even when he loses may show his ethical breaking point by trying to cheat a fellow player when he is really, really stuck. You can watch some people’s integrity drain little by little.

Or not. There are some who no matter what will not take their losses out on their own moral standards.

The flip side is visible too. One man who is winning may become even greedier, even stingier, and even more isolated in his success. Some are so unconscious that they will cheer at their own small victory even when a patron who generously gave them their starting stake has been wiped out.

The bedfellows created are notable as well. Ancient, tiny Chinese women high fiving tall gold teef young black men is not an unusual sight. There is a kinship that grows from the common cause, common experience. The common struggle.

Anyway, Bu was falling asleep tonight at the table, probably after a good ten-hour stint and a full days work as a carpenter when his turn to act was quickly approaching. I instinctively whisper shouted his name and made the whole table jump. Thing is I would have probably yelled the same thing if my intention was to make the table jump and he wasn’t even there. Pfft. Like they needed another reason call me Casper…

 

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