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The World's First Guide to Vegas
from a Real Vegas Cocktail Waitress








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Saturday, April 1, 2007

One of our very own cocktail waitresses, Dawn, was Employee of the Month, which made her in the running for Employee of the Year.  She attended a banquet for all the nominees who were each given a check for $1500 and an extra week's paid vacation.  She ended up winning the Employee of the Year, so she got another $3000 and another week's paid vacation, and an all-expenses paid trip for seven days to three destinations (none of them included Vegas).

Our lovely Dawn, was a Buffalo Bills cheerleader.  When I took this picture I tried to get her to say, "All set? (clap clap) You bet!"  She told me I was a dork and to take the picture already.  Damn, nice attitude for Employee of the Year.

Last month New York-New York did a charity fundraiser for the St. Baldrick's Foundation, an organization that helps children with cancer.  Several employees were brave enough to shave their heads to raise money, including members of Food and Beverage, which is another reason why I love the people I work with.

Cory, our Director of Restaurants.  It hurts me to say this but he actually has (had) really nice hair, so this was quite a sacrifice.

Steve, our Beverage Manager, kinda looks like the Jolly Red Giant.  He was so proud because José Eber's cousin's neighbor's dog sitter's uncle-in-law personally shaved his head with a modified Flowbee.

Jennifer, our Executive Assistant to the V.P. of Food and Beverage, is my hero.  She raised $1000 and was the only woman willing to step up.  Jen, you rock!  The only thing that would make me love her more is if I could get a video of her tearing up a picture of the Pope.

Monday, April 2, 2007
I was walking by my craps table when I saw a kid standing there, he was probably seven or eight years old.  Then I saw that a security guard was with him, talking to some people who had been gambling at my table.  I went over and eavesdropped on their conversation, and as I walked up I overheard the security guard say to the parents, "You can't leave him alone in the room."  The parents were smiling, not at all sorry or embarrassed.  The mother said, "Oh, we left the TV on for him and we made sure we locked the door."  The security guard was actually very nice, and he patiently explained, "You cannot leave your child unattended, we don't allow that.  The maid found him when she went to clean the room and she reported it to us."  She said, "Oh, well, how old does he have to be before he can be by himself?"  The guard said, "Usually thirteen or so."  I was waiting for her to say, "He's thirteen then."  But instead the parents said, "OK, thank you."  I don't know what the law is, but I think thirteen is still too young.  In fact, I think leaving a teenager alone in Vegas is a bad idea, period, even if he's locked in your room.  I know it sucks that you don't have anyone to watch your kids while you drink and gamble, but that's what being a responsible parent is all about, putting your child's needs before your own.  There was a well-known case where Sherrice Iverson, who was seven years old, was raped and murdered in a casino bathroom while her father gambled the night away.  Yes, he left his daughter in the care of his fourteen-year-old son, but he left them alone all night while they hung out in the casino arcade.  Would you trade your kid's life for a million dollar jackpot?  Don't leave your kids alone here.

Thursday, April 5, 2007
I had these two black guys playing on my roulette wheel.  They ordered two Miller Lites and when I brought them, a black lady had joined them.  She ordered a Miller Lite also, but when I came back she was gone.  I looked around to see if she might be at another table, and I saw her at the next roulette wheel.  I set the beer down next to her and said, "Here's your Miller Lite."  She looked at it and said, "I didn't order that."  That's when I realized she was the wrong lady.  One of the black guys at the original roulette wheel looked over and said, "Oh, it's over here, she'll be right back."  So I picked up the beer, brought it over to him, leaned close to his ear and said, "You know, you guys all look alike."  He just busted out laughing, "Yeah, that's what they say!"

You know, I realize that I can probably get away with this kind of thing because I'm not white.  And that's precisely why I take advantage of it.  I can turn an otherwise mundane, or even negative, situation into something a little more light-hearted.  I was lucky that the guy had a great sense of humor, and he may even have laughed if a white waitress said the same thing, but I do try and feel out my customers before I try to joke with them.  When I related this incident to the other waitresses and bartender in the bar, everyone laughed, but the white waitresses said this exact thing, that they would never even attempt to joke like that with someone, which is probably a safe decision.  But I pointed out that while they may have to be more careful in what they say, they would never encounter what I deal with on a daily basis, customers asking me where I'm from - originally - or placing their order like they're speaking to a language-challenged, hearing-impaired monkey: "I'LL.....HAAAAVE....A......COOOFFFEEEEEE.........!!!!!!  CREEEEAM.......AAAND.......SUUUGAR!!!!!"  Sometimes they skip the small words, trying not to confuse me.  You'd think they'd skip the big words if they really want to make it easy.  Anyway, so it becomes just "COOOOFFFEEEE......CREEEEAM.....SUUGAAAR!!!"  And hand gestures, like they're pouring cream in a coffee cup.  See, I get it, I'm not so dumb.  God, I hate mimes.  And it's so cute when they try to affect an Asian accent, because "sugar" becomes "shooga."  What's that sir, sugar?  I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that term.  Oh, shooga!  Gotcha!  I mean, ah...shooga, I put many many shooga - you likey!  Hee hee hee! (while covering my mouth with one dainty hand)  I've always wondered what would happen if I did that.  Hmmm, I think I've found my next project.

Friday, April 6, 2007
I was in a good mood, the radio in the service bar was playing "My Humps" so we were all singing along, and we were all acting stupid.  I had a couple of drinks going out to my station so I walked out, passing through another girl's station.  There were three customers talking to each other and I could hear one lady saying to her friends, "I want to get a drink before we leave."  She saw me approaching and said, "Can I get a Coors Light?"  I said, "Sure, I'll let your waitress know you need a drink."  I started to walk by and she said, "Aren't you a waitress?"  She said this in a very snide, obviously sarcastic way.  Her implication was obvious, that she assumed I could get her the beer but I was just too lazy to do it.  So I said, very slowly, "Why yes, I am.  That's very observant.  But I'm not the waitress in this section, which is why I said that I would let your waitress know you need a drink."  She said, "Oh."  But so quietly I almost couldn't hear her.  What a fucking bitch.  And I was so nice to her.  So I delivered my drinks, and as I came back through I could see the waitress taking orders in this section.  She was in the row on the other side of where the three people were sitting, and they weren't even playing.  They were just sitting there, waiting for a waitress to come around so they could get their free beer because they were too cheap to play for their beer, or go buy one at the bar, which was just a stone's throw away.  (I don't know how far that is, but I hope it's not too far because I'm trying to say the bar was close by.)  Now, before you get all on their side and say that maybe they'd been gambling for an hour and lost all their money and they hadn't seen a waitress the whole time, that's not the case at all here.  I know because they were in a main aisle, where many waitresses, including me, have to travel through to get to other stations.  And the machines were right by a walkway.  I had never seen them there, before my pleasant encounter with them, so they had just stopped there to rest before they went on their merry way.  Here comes the funny part.  When the waitress came down their row, she started taking orders from other customers but she didn't stop to ask them if they wanted a drink because they were just sitting there, not even facing the machines, obviously not playing.  The kicker is, not one of the three people, including Miss Coors Light, stopped her to say they wanted a drink.  So, they watched their waitress take orders from everyone around them, skip right over them, continue taking orders, and not one of them said a word.  They sat there for a few more seconds, then got up and left.  What a bunch of fucking retards.  I think the world owes me thanks for not dulling their senses more with alcohol.

Saturday, April 7, 2007
So today my first customer was this very nice lady who gave me one Canadian quarter for a Bloody Mary.  I say "one" as if two would be better.  Anyway, as I was walking away, examining my prize, the lady ran up to me and said, "I forgot to give you this too!"  She handed me a redemption ticket for 14¢.  That's right, 14¢.  I said, "Thanks so much!"  She smiled and said, "Well, I can't use it so I figured you could."  How the hell did she figure that?  Did she have a "Who Can Use 14¢" calculator?  Let's see...homeless guy, little old ladies, other Canadians, about a cocktail waitress, yeah, she'll want it!  At least it really is worth 14¢.

I walked by the lounge and waved to the bartender that was working there.  He waved back, then pointed to something inside that I couldn't see, so I walked in and looked around the corner.  There was a skinny guy, probably in his twenties, although it was hard to tell because he was really dirty with a long, matted beard and nasty long hair (kinda like the Geico caveman, no offense to cavemen), wearing a T-shirt and shorts, running around frantically, then suddenly stopping to strike a pose.  Not the kind Madonna sang about, no, but like the Incredible Hulk when he's ripping through his shirt, then he ran and jumped up on one of the chairs and did like a Karate Kid pose, on one leg.  He actually had pretty good balance.  The few customers who were in the bar were really enjoying this, as was I and the other cocktail waitress and bartender.  We watched him run around for a few minutes, sometimes twirling around in mid-run, always stopping suddenly to do a new pose.  I liked the one where he kind of knelt, hands out, looking up at the sky with an anguished look on his face and his mouth wide open, as if he was in silent, painful prayer to God, "why hast thou forsaken me???"  The other waitress and I were giggling but trying not to distract him because we didn't want him to stop.  When he ran by again the waitress said, "Dude, are you on crack or what?"  He turned back and said, "No way man, pure heroin!"  Then he left.  Just like that.  Well, that sucks.

As I walked back to the service bar from the lounge, still disappointed that my boyfriend had left to score some heroin, a man smoking a cigar walked up to me.  He pointed vaguely towards some slots behind him and said, "Are you working over there?"  I said, "No, but tell me what you want and I'll give the order to your waitress."  He said, "I just want Piña Colada."  When he said "Piña" a huge, wet blob of spit came charging out of his mouth, and guess where it landed?  IN MY MOUTH!  It all happened so fast that before I could think about what I was doing, I swallowed it!  Damn my natural reflexes!  The man turned away, leaving behind a trail of stinky cigar smoke and a bad taste in my mouth.  There I was, left standing with a sour beer look on my face.  Judge Judy, help!  Do I have a case for pain and suffering?  What are my damages?  What if I have cigar-related halitosis for the rest of my life?  Have I now, in theory, kissed every girl that he has spat on, making me an unintentional bisexual?  I ran back to the service bar (OK, I didn't run, but you get the drift) and told the bartender, "I need a shot of vodka - now!"  He poured it and damn if I didn't shoot that in one swallow.  The bartender said, "Well, if I had known it was for you I would've given you the good stuff."  I said, "Don't talk to me.  I have to puke now."

Sunday, April 15, 2007

This is Brian from Hawaii, the one who gave me that funky crystal tea set back in December.  He's so funny, he came up to me, gave me a hundred dollar bill and said, "Here, buy your own tea set!"

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Here is an e-mail I received today.

I see you have not updated in a few months, is everything OK?

Oh and although you dislike it, I bet your parents are from the phillipines, and your boobs are fake. And yes, when I guess an asian persons race correctly I do get mental bonus points. hehehehhehe

tommy d

As to your first guess, you are 100% wrong.  As to your second, duh.

This e-mail, coincidentally, arrived the very day something similar happened at work.  I had these two white guys playing on rapid roulette.  By the way, rapid roulette is a relatively new game where customers pick numbers from their video machines, which are set up in two rows around live dealers who throw the ball on a real roulette wheel.  The best part of the game is when the dealers are ready to go and a female video voice whispers seductively, "No more bets!"  I swear, people have paid good money to be talked to like that.  Anyway, so these two guys were playing and when I came around and asked, "Would you guys like a drink?", one of them ignored me, the other turned around and did one of those exaggerated double-takes, like I was so beautiful I just blew him away.  He said, "Wow!"  He then purposely blinked his eyes a couple of times, and shook his head a few times, as if he couldn't believe such a beauty really was standing in front of him.  I tolerated this bit of non-academy award-winning performance, gave him a small smile, and said, "What can I get for you?"  Instead of replying, he stared at me intently, leaned back in his chair, then dramatically pointed a finger at me and said, "Vietnamese?"  Inwardly sighing (here we go again), I said, "No."  He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus and zone in on my racial DNA.  He threw another pointed finger at me as if trying hit the bull's-eye, "Filipino?"  I said, "No."  Now he was really stumped.  He rubbed his chin and really studied my face.  So, deciding to play his game, I suddenly pointed at him and said, "Irish?"  He looked confused.  ""  I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then my face lit up and I pointed at him again, "Italian?"  He didn't say anything; his face a complete blank, and I could see all the rusty wheels coming to a complete halt.  "Uh..." then he waved me off as he turned back his game, "I'll have a Jack and Coke."  What?  Come on!  Tell me tell me tell me, I have a bet with my friend, he thinks you're Jewish I think you're Scottish, seriously where are you REALLY from, Holland? Australia? Canada? Germany? Ich bin ein Berliner! aren't you impressed I can speak four words in your language - let's fuck!, what - you don't speak your language? what's wrong with you, you must be an asshole, were you born here because you speak really good English, I bet you're Irish you must grow your own potatoes after what your people have gone through, and I just love Lucky Charms! you're English? The Tudors is one of my favorite shows! You're Swedish? I once had some Swedish neighbors - do you know them - a really nice couple, hard-working, quiet, never gave me any trouble, you're not Swedish? but you look Swedish! are you sure? maybe it's somewhere in your ancestry because I know a lot about Swedes and you look Swede, by the way is your wife Swedish too, so you're Greek? my cousin is married to a Greek, wow isn't that interesting, come on come on I want my mental bonus points!!!

Friday, April 27, 2007

This is me and my mom.  Just kidding.  But I guess she could be.  It's me and Mitzi at the Big Apple Bar.  Mitzi is a regular who comes in all the time.  She plays video poker or hangs out in the lounge, dancing the night away.  She is so cute, always wearing something outrageous and having a good time.  And yes, I'm taller than her!

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Me and Renee, my e-mail pal from Olympia, WA who came for a Vegas meet and stopped by to say hi.  This is before she went out with her sister and got wasted.