The Ultimate System - Chapter 9

Introduction

Starting Again

"That's perfectly alright,\" Nate Frazier remarked, holding the phone just above the cradle and his left hand barely touching the disconnect button, \"Just reach out when you're ready to come back, and I'll see how we can assist you. Uh-huh. Sounds good. I'll catch you later. Bye now!\"

Greg, the senior host (and the only other one present) adjusted his glasses for what felt like the twentieth time in just ten minutes and turned to Nate, asking, \"How are things going on your side?\"

Nate sighed, \"Honestly, I’ve had to reach out to David Landstrom again. That should give you a clue about the situation. Nobody is showing up here!\" He glanced around the cramped office he shared with Greg and noticed that Greg was absorbed in a crossword puzzle. In disbelief, he asked, \"How come you’re so relaxed over there? Aren't you interested in bringing anyone in?\"

Greg shrugged his shoulders, stating, \"It's typically quiet right after the New Year. Everyone spends their cash on Christmas and various holiday festivities. This isn't exactly a winter getaway hotspot, you know. We might see some familiar faces in a month or two if they find out they overpaid in taxes. Those expecting refunds usually rush to file their returns.\"

Nate recognized the reality of the scenario; it mirrored what he'd experienced at the other casino he used to work for. Staff at the table games would often leave early throughout January and into February. The Super Bowl might attract a few more people, but they mostly lounged around the bar top machines while watching the game, as the state didn’t allow sports betting. So, the Super Bowl didn’t draw much more excitement than any typical bar scene.

"I figured I’d focus my efforts on reaching out to locals and semi-locals,\" Nate explained. \"Given the time of year, it's unlikely we’ll attract tourists, especially not here, so I thought management would be satisfied with any customers we could get in.\"

Greg removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a handkerchief. \"The locals typically aren’t flush with cash right now,\" he offered. \"If anything, calling them might just remind them of their financial woes.\" He yawned and propped his feet up on the desk, adding, \"Besides, I doubt management is around to care, at least not most of them; it seems like they’re indifferent to what we do at the moment.\"

Once again, Nate surveyed the office, realizing it would always look the same. \"So what’s the strategy? Are we just going to clock in the bare minimum hours required by our contracts?\"

Greg responded, \"What else can we do? I’m going to catch a quick nap, then I might pull out that little putting green we have; we can putt for real money, which might be the most action happening in this place right now!\"

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What Nate failed to realize was that David Landstrom wasn’t in fact broke; in reality, he had managed to save an amount exceeding what he had ever held before and was now counting his stack of thirty-five $100 bills for the third time that day. David only needed to wait a couple more days for his next paycheck to reach the minimum bankroll of four thousand dollars, at which point he'd put 'The Ultimate System' back into action at the unsuspecting Golden Goose Casino.

David had been diligently experimenting with various betting systems via the free games on Wnternetradiomercedes.com, growing increasingly exasperated as most of his attempts ended in failure. Eventually, it became clear that nearly every system ultimately led to the loss of the player's bankroll. In a moment of desperation, David even thought about hiring someone to simulate his system, forgetting completely both his skepticism about simulations and his belief that electronic games did not accurately reflect reality.

A few clicks later, David placed another bet that ended in a loss. If he lost another bet consecutively, it would jeopardize his $4,000 bankroll, making it impossible to place the necessary next bet. Fortunately, his subsequent wager was successful, allowing him to continue.

Ultimately, David realized that his strategy couldn't sustain wins against any particular game in the long run; rather, the trick was to keep switching between games while applying his betting system. He discovered that, at various tables, both winning and losing streaks appeared to occur randomly. As absurd as it seemed, they did happen, so attempting to apply a Martingale style strategy at one table over time left a player vulnerable to the trends of that particular game, whether it was in a winning or losing streak.

David deduced that this trend only manifested if a player continuously used the same game. He concluded that the pathway to success lay in transitioning from game to game, but apart from that, he intended to stick to his usual back-and-forth betting style. The only major adjustment he was going to make was to significantly lower the win objective for moving to the next game.

David secured victories in the next two rounds of craps before switching over to free roulette. After a few losses, he changed his bet color and celebrated three wins in a row before transitioning to baccarat. After a few more rounds (the one game where he intentionally never bet on the banker due to the bothersome commission), it was back to craps.

At least this way, he’d get some physical activity while playing in a live casino...

David kicked a mound of snow in front of him, watching it explode into a flurry of individual flakes that danced in the air, and just then, a breeze sent the snowflakes flying through the bridge’s railing towards the small stream that meandered behind A Penny Saved grocery store. He couldn't resist delivering another kick to a different snow bank formed against a bridge support, delighting in how the wind scattered the falling snow.

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David had two reasons for feeling cheerful: February had arrived, so despite his hefty size, he could walk from place to place without breaking a sweat upon arrival, and he was also just two days away from a three-night getaway at The Golden Goose Casino. He mentally noted to keep things calm on Friday so that he wouldn't be late for work on Saturday.

While he trusted that his system held a positive expectation by, 'Jumping around' between games, he acknowledged that this new approach was somewhat less aggressive regarding wins, meaning he likely wouldn't be leaving his job following the long weekend. His schedule had shifted again, leaving him with Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays free, but he had decided to take off Wednesday too, using a vacation day he had only just received.

He opted to stay home on Tuesday to assess if any adjustments were necessary for his system. Seeking input on the WizardofVegas.com forums, he found that the only feedback he received suggested that the system would be most effective when not played at all. Of course, no one was willing to calculate the likelihood of success or complete failure, as the system was too complex to ascertain a precise probability due to the frequent game switching and the fact that the system’s parameters were unclear despite David’s multiple attempts to clarify them.

For now, however, it was Monday, and David had an eight-hour shift awaiting him. He reminded himself once more about Nicholas Allison’s promise to recommend him for a deli supervisor role, provided he kept his performance impeccable, which he had indeed managed to do. When he wasn't gambling, David was exemplary in his work ethic.

In the midst of one of the most challenging orders in the deli sector—where a customer requested a quarter-pound of nearly every item not on display and insisted that everything be chipped—David found himself preparing to slice the sixth loaf of cold cuts in five minutes. \"Who eats chipped bologna?\" he questioned internally, prepping the meat slicer.

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"Excuse me, sir?\" David glanced over to see the customer signaling to him. \"Don't you think it’s time to clean the slicer? How many different products have gone through it?\"

David sighed and grabbed a cleaning rag, noting that the ones in the deli were similar to those used in bars. Dipping the rag in a bucket labeled 'Sanitizer,' he got to work on the slicer.

"Sir…\" the customer sounded impatient, \"Shouldn’t you take it apart to clean it? My wife definitely wouldn’t want her bologna tasting like London Broil.\"

At this point, David was fuming but did his utmost not to reveal it. For some unknown reason, it seemed like the entire town had chosen this specific day to buy deli meats and cheeses—a Monday, traditionally one of the slowest days of the week in grocery retail…and supposedly during the slowest season of the year for grocers. Naturally, David found himself alone on this shift, as the expectation was that there would be no customers.

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"Does the other slicer work well?\"

"That’s all right,\" Nate Frazier replied, keeping the phone receiver just above the cradle, his left hand barely avoiding the disconnect button. \"Just reach out when you're ready to return, and I’ll see what we can arrange for you. Uh-huh. Sure. We’ll chat then. Okay. Goodbye.\"

Greg, the more experienced and only other host, adjusted his glasses for about the twentieth time in the last ten minutes and glanced at Nate. \"How’s it going on your end?\"

Nate sighed in frustration, \"I’ve been calling David Landstrom again, if that gives you a hint. I can't get anyone to come in!\" He surveyed the cramped office he shared with Greg and noticed Greg engrossed in a crossword puzzle. In disbelief, he asked, \"How can you be so relaxed over there? Aren't you concerned about bringing anyone in here?\"

Greg shrugged nonchalantly, \"It’s typically quiet right after the new year. People spend all their cash on Christmas shopping and holiday festivities; this isn't exactly a winter vacation hotspot, you know. We might see some regulars come back in a month or two when they realize they overpaid their taxes. Those expecting a refund tend to file their returns quickly.\"

Nate grasped the scenario well; it mirrored what he experienced at the previous casino he had worked at. Throughout January and most of February, table game staff would leave early. The Super Bowl might attract a few more people, but mostly they would be nursing drinks and playing the bar machines while they watched the game. With no legalized sports betting in the state, the Super Bowl attracted about as many people as any other decent bar would in the winter months.

"I thought I’d try reaching out to the locals and semi-locals,\" Nate explained, \"Traveling this time of year is unlikely, especially here, so hopefully the higher-ups would be glad if we can get anyone to walk through the doors of the place.\"

"Was he the only one in line?\"

Greg removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. \"The locals usually have less disposable income during this time,\" he pointed out, \"Calling them might just remind them of their financial troubles. Anyway, I doubt the executives even care; most of them probably aren't around to notice what we’re up to right now.\"

Nate took another look around the office, realizing it would never change, and he asked, \"So, what’s the game plan? Are we just going to put in the minimal hours to fulfill our contractual obligations?\"

Greg asked in return, \"What else can we do? Let me take a nap, and then I might set up that little putting green we have; we could putt for cash, and that might just be the most action happening in this place!\"

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What Nate wasn't aware of was that David Landstrom wasn’t struggling financially at all; in fact, he had managed to save up more than ever before and was currently counting his stack of thirty-five hundred dollar bills for the third time that day. All he needed was a few more days for his next paycheck to reach the minimum bankroll requirement of four thousand dollars, and he’d be ready to implement \"The Ultimate System\" again at the Golden Goose Casino.

David had been diligently testing various betting systems using free games at Wnternetradiomercedes.com but was growing disheartened because his efforts often ended in losses. Eventually, it appeared that nearly every betting strategy resulted in players depleting their bankrolls. He even contemplated hiring someone to simulate his system, momentarily overlooking his previous skepticism about simulations and his belief that electronic games weren't valid tests.

With a couple of swift clicks, David made another bet, which unfortunately resulted in a loss. If he lost another consecutive bet, it would jeopardize his ability to maintain his four thousand dollar bankroll needed for the following required bet. Thankfully, his subsequent bet was a win, allowing him to carry on.

What dawned on David was that his system wasn't capable of consistently beating any single game over time. Instead, he realized the trick lay in moving between games while applying his betting strategy. He recognized that streaks of wins or losses would occasionally occur at any table. Despite how absurd it seemed, these trends existed, and attempting to use a Martingale strategy at one table left a player vulnerable to the specific game's results, whether they were hot or cold.

Naturally, David reasoned that he could counteract this by betting with the trends rather than against them, but he found that switching bets, such as moving from a pass line bet on craps to a don’t pass bet, often led to tumultuous results, ultimately putting the player at a disadvantage.

However, David discovered that these streaks only presented themselves if a player stuck with the same game continually. He concluded that jumping from game to game was essential for success, but he still planned to adhere to his usual back and forth betting system. The only significant modification would be lowering the win parameters to switch to the next game.

After winning the next two rounds on the craps game, David shifted over to a free roulette game. After a couple of losses, he switched to a different color and achieved three consecutive wins. Following that, he transitioned to baccarat. A few rounds later (notably avoiding betting on banker due to the bothersome commission) and he returned to craps.

At the very least, he could get some exercise by doing all this in a live casino...

David playfully kicked at the snow in front of him, watching as the snowball burst into countless flakes, only for a gust of wind to send them scattering through the bridge railing and toward the little stream leading to A Penny Saved grocery store. He gave a kick to a nearby snowdrift by a bridge support, delighting in how the wind sent the individual flakes hurling into the air.

David had two reasons to feel pleased: First, it was February, so even with his ample girth, he could stroll from place to place without heavy sweating. Second, he was just two days away from a three-night stay at The Golden Goose Casino. He made a mental note to take it easy on Friday so he could arrive on time for work Saturday.

While he was optimistic about his approach of switching games, he acknowledged that his newly clarified strategy was somewhat less aggressive regarding potential wins. As a result, he didn't foresee needing to quit his job after the three-day weekend. His schedule had changed again, providing him with Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays off. However, he planned to burn through his vacation day quickly and also take off Wednesday.

He opted to remain home on Tuesday to assess if any adjustments were necessary for his system. He sought input on the WizardofVegas.com forums, but the only feedback he consistently received was that his system would work better if he didn't use it at all. Unfortunately, no one was willing to crunch the numbers to determine the likelihood of success versus failure, primarily due to the complexity of his system combined with the frequency of switching games and David’s repeated difficulty in clearly explaining the parameters.

But for now, it was Monday, and David had an eight-hour shift ahead of him. He reminded himself about Nicholas Allison’s promise of recommending him for deli supervisor if he kept his records clean, which he had managed to do with great diligence. In fact, when he wasn’t gambling, David was quite the exemplary employee.

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At that moment, David found himself knee-deep in the most frustrating order of the deli: a customer requesting a quarter-pound of nearly everything that wasn’t on display, plus a special request for everything to be chipped. To top it off, he even had to chip the darn bologna, questioning to himself, \"Who eats chipped bologna?\" as he prepared the meat slicer for yet another loaf of cold cuts.

"Excuse me, sir?\" David turned to see the customer waving at him. \"Don’t you think you should clean the slicer now? How many different things have been on there?\"

David sighed inwardly and grabbed a washrag, similar to those used at bars, dipping it into a bucket marked, \"Sanitizer,\" as he began cleaning the slicer.

"Sir...\" the customer interjected impatiently, \"Shouldn't you disassemble it for a thorough cleaning? I don’t think my wife desires her bologna tasting like London Broil.\"

At this point, David was seething with irritation but tried hard not to show it. For some unknown reason, it felt like the entire town had decided that day to stock up on deli meats and cheeses, on a Monday, traditionally one of the slowest days of the week in grocery retail and supposedly during the most languid season of the year for grocery stores. Unsurprisingly, David was alone during this shift, as everyone expected it to be quiet.

Oh, fuck.

The idea of disassembling a whole meat slicer just to clean it for the sake of preparing a single customer's quarter-pound of bologna along with the other items he would order was incredibly frustrating. Typically, slicers would only be dismantled for cleaning once a night, and David guessed correctly that this customer would undoubtedly complain about the wait time.

David inquired, \"Would it be acceptable if I used the other slicer, sir? I can assure you it hasn't seen any action today at all.\"

Luckily for David, he was facing away from the customer, which spared him from having the customer witness him discreetly flicking his middle finger or rolling his eyes as he thought to himself, \"Trust me, that slicer is just as effective, and in fact, it's actually newer.\"

"Then why haven’t you been using that slicer from the start?\"

Because this one is much closer to the display case where I need to chip and slice everything for you, you clueless jerk!!!

He clocked out at 21:25.

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Instead, David calmly replied, \"I’m not sure, sir, perhaps I should start asking if I can use that slicer from now on so I won’t have to break down this one.\"

Nicholas Allison arrived in a surprisingly fiery mood an hour after that incident to check in. Despite his spirited demeanor, he was as meticulous as always, starting with, \"Mr. Landstrom, could you explain why both slicers are in operation when there’s just one of you here?\"

David took a moment to clarify the situation about the customer who insisted on having the slicer completely taken apart and cleaned during his order. He essentially confessed that he was just trying to expedite the customer’s experience, hence opting to use the other slicer.

Although David feared a reprimand, he transparently admitted, \"Yes, we’ve had a steady stream of customers today, but at that particular moment, he was the only one waiting.\"

"In that case,\" Nicholas replied, \"Take your time cleaning it and let him wait. Just try to have the items you already sliced cooled down to fifty degrees by the time he leaves!\"

David couldn't help but chuckle at this suggestion since it had been his first instinct as well.

"However,\" Nicholas added with a hint of resignation, \"I regret to say, but you still need to clean one of these slicers. It just looks off to have both dirty while you're the only one working, and besides, you’ve got lunch coming up soon.\"

Nicholas had come by specifically to deliver David's lunch. Even though managing two ten-minute breaks wasn’t really an issue since a sign could be put up, actually stepping away from the deli for a full thirty minutes was a hassle. Initially frustrated, David wondered why Nicholas couldn’t just handle the cleaning, but then considered Nicholas' situation: he had to cover for David because, during weekdays, the deli couldn't operate effectively with two staff members, meaning that even though Nicholas was off two days a week, he had to come in to ensure the lunch shifts were covered.

While it made sense to have two workers during busy weekend shifts, Nicholas faced challenges taking Fridays and Saturdays off, as those were the peak days of the week. So, he had effectively been working without a proper day off for two months while also not receiving any extra pay for it, which was just a method of saving the store a small amount of money.

David reflected that he wouldn’t want to do much during those thirty minutes either.

One day, out of curiosity, David had wanted to know Nicholas' salary, but he didn’t want to ask outright. Since he might have a shot at being promoted to supervisor, especially after Nicholas hinted at it, he asked, \"How much does a new deli supervisor make?\" He discovered that the pay rate for supervisors was hardly better than what the deli employees earned over a typical forty-hour workweek, yet Nicholas often worked around fifty-five hours weekly, meaning he earned about two dollars less an hour than those he supervised. Plus, he had to sacrifice two chunks of his 'day off' just to cover for his team’s lunches.

"Then why did we go to the store?\"

David's mind then wandered back to that earlier customer who had insisted he open up five new items, requesting a quarter pound of eight different meats and six types of cheeses, all while making him clean the slicer afterwards. Forget about mandatory military service, David mused; everyone should have to endure at least a year in customer service.

As time went on, David felt increasing pangs of guilt for all the customer service workers he had unintentionally annoyed over the years. In today's world, people rarely do everything on their own, so whether out of need or leisure, they have to engage with others to obtain what they want or require. During these interactions, there’s an opportunity to either uplift someone’s day or to be a complete nuisance, making what isn’t really a fun experience even worse. Tragically, David and his coworkers often chose the latter option.

In many cases, some individuals might not even be aware of how irritating their behavior is. Yet in other instances, it’s glaringly obvious that the person is fully conscious of their actions. Sometimes, those individuals will purposefully become a hassle hoping to extract something from a service worker, who simply wishes they would leave. While it may sound wise to hold your ground and not allow such behavior to win, at times a person’s level of patience just isn’t up to the task for that day.

As he munched on a sandwich he had created (and properly labeled at the employee lunch rate) earlier that day, David pondered over these thoughts. He clocked back in precisely thirty minutes later and said to Nicholas Allison, \"Have a great rest of your day, Nicholas. I apologize for putting you in this situation.\"

"It blows,\" Nicholas replied, \"But in the end, we’re all beholden to something, right?\"

"You’ll eventually become the store manager,\" David reassured him, \"Then you won’t have to feel trapped.\"

"Don’t be mistaken; I’ll still be in a similar position, just one where I get paid a fair bit more,\" Nicholas chuckled.

"Isn’t it true that you’ll be subjected to more responsibilities in that case?\" David raised an eyebrow.

"I hadn’t really thought about that,\" Nicholas conceded, \"It’s fascinating how much we endure for that fleeting moment of satisfaction when we finally get our paycheck. Sometimes, it’s already allocated before we even see it, making it feel less rewarding.\"

The phone at the deli rang for the first time that day. Despite a steady flow of walk-up customers, there had been no phone orders. David glanced at the clock reading 20:14 and briefly considered ignoring the phone but thought it might be Nicholas with some additional details about an order he had forgotten. Since he had already used both of his breaks, he knew he’d catch heat if he didn’t answer the only call of the day.

"A Penny Saved Deli, this is David speaking. How may I help you?\"

"Hello,\" came the voice of a middle-aged woman, \"Is this David speaking?\"

"I can’t deny that—it’s me,\" David answered, \"How can I assist you?\"

"I’m so relieved you’re there,\" she continued, \"The trays you made for us last time were fabulous…\"

"Anyway, we’re holding a club meeting tomorrow morning at ten, but I need to pick up the trays beforehand. I require three meat and cheese trays, size three, along with two veggie trays, size two.\"

David took a moment to weigh his options. The deli would open at nine o’clock, but it appeared that they expected to collect the trays right away, which the morning shift wouldn’t be able to handle. He considered contacting Nicholas to pass the order on, but he already felt guilty enough about making Nicholas come in twice on his day off. He could tell the woman that the trays just wouldn’t be ready by nine, which was true, unless David wanted to compromise some policies…

"They’ll be ready in the back by nine, as always. Thank you for choosing A Penny Saved,\" he assured her.

As David began cutting what he needed for the meat and cheese trays and dicing up the ingredients, he weighed whether he should clock out and receive an override, clock out of pay, or call Nicholas to inform him he needed to come in before opening the next day. The last option, while technically correct, made him feel awful. First, the poor guy had to come in twice on what should be his day off, then to receive a call in the evening about needing to come back either later or earlier to finish those trays? What a life!

David concluded that his best choice would be to stay on the clock because working off the clock could lead to immediate dismissal if discovered. Even if he rushed, there was no way he could finish on time, so he decided to do a thorough job on the five trays, clean the slicer properly, and then go to the office to secure an override.

"I really wish you wouldn’t leave,\" Evan Blake pleaded with David, who was lacing up his shoes in his shabby basement, the incessant drip from the leaky pipe filling his makeshift Blue Bonnet butter container annoyingly audible in the background.

"Look, you’re here to give me a ride,\" David shot back, \"Not to play therapist. Besides, you’re welcome to crash with me for a night or two if you want; I might be able to book a room with two beds and possibly snag some free meals for you.\"

David felt he had struck a fair deal, a 'trip,' alongside Nate Frazier. After some back-and-forth negotiation, David secured three complimentary nights in a room that would have otherwise gone unused, two free buffets each day of food that certainly wouldn’t change throughout his stay—just reheated—and $20 in free gaming chips each day, in addition to $20 daily in food and drink credit.

From David's viewpoint, he had managed to secure quite an enjoyable three-day experience at The Golden Goose Casino. Nate Frazier, on his end, was simply delighted that someone from his crew was finally stepping in for a change. While it was evident that March would bring some improvements, the remainder of February was destined to be chaotic. In fact, Nate had started to adopt Greg's daily routine, which revolved around napping for the majority of the day and engaging in rounds of putt-putt golf for the rest.

Nate had reflected, ‘That's one of the reasons I eagerly anticipate the busy season returning; I’m drowning in this putt-putt nonsense.’

Evan Blake chimed in, 'So, how much do you think you're going to lose?'

David countered, 'I have no intention of losing anything, thank you very much. I'm here to win.'

'Fair enough, Mr. Champion,' Evan replied with a smirk. 'How much cash are you taking with you?'

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Just before Evan arrived, David had flipped through his thirty-five hundred-dollar bills and a $562.34 check. 'I'm bringing just under five hundred dollars; the rest is secure in the bank. By the way, I need to withdraw some cash. Can we swing by the bank first?'

Evan appeared puzzled. 'I thought you just got your paycheck. How did you manage to cash that check?'

David almost got caught in a lie but managed to cover, 'I didn’t actually pick up my check today.'

David displayed a pouf and a tube of toothpaste he'd just bought from the store. 'I had to grab a few essentials,' he explained, 'The toothpaste isn’t to my liking, and they don't stock poufs. Totally forgot about my check.'

Evan obediently drove David to the bank, where he deposited $62.34 from his check along with $30.24 he had in cash, in addition to the thirty-five fresh hundreds. When David requested a slip with his new balance, he felt a sense of mild satisfaction seeing it had increased to $612.22, despite having hoarded most of his checks in cash for his upcoming casino adventure.

"How about Jack Daniels?\"

Once they arrived at the casino, David suggested, 'Evan, at least come in and enjoy the buffet. There's no way I'll finish both meals by myself today.'

Evan acquiesced, and they entered to feast at the buffet. Afterward, David checked into his room, eagerly showing Evan around the hotel side of the establishment. His room was quite impressive, featuring a king-size bed, a large flat-screen TV, and a spacious bathroom equipped for two, sporting a double sink. 'Isn’t this amazing!?''

Evan surveyed the space with indifference, 'It’s just a hotel room. It’s alright. Don’t forget, you live just a few miles from here.'

David shot back, 'It’s definitely a step up from my basement, which you have to admit.'

"Neat?\"

Evan responded with a resigned sigh, 'Sure, it beats the basement, but it’s probably not as nice as my place.'

David looked up, intrigued. 'What do you mean by, ‘my place’?'

Evan could have sworn he had informed David about his new apartment — a tidy place with a decent kitchen and dining area that offered a lovely view of the hills from the balcony. 'I couldn’t wait endlessly, David, so I found myself an apartment. It turned out to be pretty affordable, but it’s just a one-bedroom, so the chance for a roommate has passed. However, I think they still have one or two units available if you’re interested.'

David looked at him with curiosity, 'I thought your intention was for us to be roommates?'

Evan snapped back, 'If I had a dollar for every time you dodged that idea, I would have already recouped my deposit. The truth is, every time I mentioned us becoming roommates, you never really committed. You kept saying how much money you were saving living with your mom.'

'I wouldn’t say those were my exact words,' David contemplated.

'Yes,' Evan replied, quite certain, 'They absolutely were. You also mentioned your mom leaving you her house when she passes away.'

David didn't want to delve further into the disagreement, 'Are you going to hang out for a while?'

'There’s nothing for me to do here,' Evan stated, 'Enjoy your vacation.'

David thought about the four grand in his wallet and the concept of vacations. He realized he had enough to escape anywhere in the United States for several days, yet he found himself at The Golden Goose, trying to turn his four grand into... something, though he was unsure what that would be. Moreover, he could have taken a trip to Las Vegas with the money he had, where there were more casinos, games, and free drinks...

'Distractions,' David remarked aloud, 'Going to Vegas would only present more distractions. It’s time to get serious about winning.'

However, before diving into that, David realized he needed a nap. He had surprisingly enjoyed the food at the rather quiet buffet, although Evan only picked a few items, claiming he had better meals to prepare at home. As he laid his head down on the pillow, David idly wondered what it was about Evan that made him so perpetually displeased with everything. He eventually dozed off, only to wake up just before 11:00 p.m.

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Deciding to take a shower before venturing downstairs, David took his time, letting the water flow over him and through his thinning hair. With each passing moment, his anticipation grew. He didn’t have to follow any rigid sleep schedule, so as far as he was concerned, he had two and a half more days of vacation ahead of him.

After finishing his shower, David dried himself off and dressed in fresh clothes. He took the elevator down and set his sights on figuring out which machine he wanted to play his $20 of free play on. He wandered over to where he had discovered the Winning Wolf title a few months back, only to find it replaced by something called Buffalo-something. As he scanned the room, he noticed about a quarter of the machines were unfamiliar compared to his last visit, excluding the video poker machines, which hadn’t changed at all for years.

Eventually, David settled in front of a title called Quick Hit, though there were about sixty different versions available, especially considering the Bally Tech machines that were virtually identical games with just different titles and animations. David didn’t feel inclined to spend too much time on that machine, so he opted to bet the maximum of $1.50 per spin, ultimately failing to land any free games and only hitting three Quick Hit symbols twice, which merely reimbursed his bet. He ended up cashing out with $5.10.

David put his ticket into the ticket redemption machine and slid the five-dollar bill into his wallet. Although he usually took a cautious approach with money, he didn’t bother with the change, leaving the dime in the coin tray. He pulled out his cellphone to check the time: it was 12:17 a.m., and he strolled over to the table games.

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Upon arrival, David was dumbfounded to find absolutely no crowd and noticed that the only game in play was a single blackjack table with just one player. 'What in the world?' he asked, more to himself than anyone. He decided talking to someone would yield better information and approached the blackjack table. He peered past the dealer and asked the pit boss, 'Where is everyone?'

'It’s a weekday after midnight with no players,' she explained. 'That's why all other games are closed. I need at least two players per table after midnight to keep it open; once it goes below that, we close the table.'

David gestured toward the blackjack setup. 'What's keeping this one open?'

'It’s those,' the pit boss said, gesturing towards the electronic craps and electronic roulette, 'They count as table games in this state. In other states, they may be considered slots. Regardless, if those are operational, one live table must remain open. To be honest, I don’t know why.'

As expected, David was equally lost when it came to that. The one thing he was certain of was that his system wouldn’t be functional until the next day since it required him to switch games. Interestingly, even though blackjack boasted the lowest house edge in the establishment, that was the one game he wouldn’t play because he couldn't figure out how to apply his new system to it.

Thirty minutes later, David was deeply regretting that earlier nap. It was either nearly 1:00 or not even 1:00 yet, depending on one’s perspective, and he was wide awake with nothing to occupy his time. He remembered the meal and drink credits he had but felt too full from the buffet. Normally a non-drinker, he found himself wandering over to the bar.

'Can I use food and drink credits here?'

The bartender gave David a look that suggested he was a bit clueless. 'Why couldn’t you?'

David mentioned that he had heard other casinos didn’t allow such things in the past, even though he had never actually used food and beverage credits anywhere else and was uncertain about the policies at other establishments. He hesitated, unsure of what to order. 'Um... could I get a whiskey?'

The bartender regarded David with an expression that clearly indicated he thought David was somewhat of a fool. 'You’ll need to be more precise.'

Toke it, the dealer thought.

David asked the question, uncertain whether there was only one type of Jack Daniels at the casino. If multiple options existed, he had no clue how to specify his order. The bartender then inquired, 'On the rocks?'

'What?' David replied, 'Is it rock? I suppose it is.'

'No, no, no,' the bartender chuckled, genuinely entertained. 'Do you want it with ice?'

David contemplated the question briefly, 'No.'

While baffled by the query, the bartender was merely figuring out whether David preferred the drink in a whiskey glass or a shot glass. 'I guess so,' David said.

David handed the bartender his players club card along with the voucher. 'That will be $6, and you'll have $14 remaining,' said the bartender, 'Or I can make it a double for the second shot at half price.'

David genuinely wasn’t sure he could tackle an entire double shot, but he understood that half price was more appealing than full price. 'Alright, let’s do that.'

After spending nine dollars in food credits, David finally got his drink, which he downed in one swift motion. Almost immediately, he felt a wave of heat wash over him, his face drained of color, and a cold sweat broke out as he experienced the unmistakable sensation of fear—a fear that made him reluctant to open his mouth, as if doing so might unleash flames. He exhaled sharply through his nose, releasing a smell reminiscent of charred wood. For an experienced drinker, slamming down a double shot of whiskey might be intimidating, but for someone like David, who rarely indulges, it was a battle against the overwhelming urge to cry out in pain.

The bartender gave David a confused look and asked, 'What was the rationale behind ordering it neat?'

'Sorry,' David gasped, barely able to catch his breath. 'What do you mean?'

'When people choose whiskey neat,' the bartender clarified, 'it's typically because they want to savor it slowly.'

'Oh, I see,' said David, 'Can I get another double, please?'

"Nice,\" David said.

The bartender carefully poured another double shot of whiskey neat, and David, with hesitation, took a tiny sip. 'Ah, this is much more manageable,' he remarked.

The bartender chuckled and agreed, 'I would assume so.'

'Can I leave the rest of my food credits as a tip?' David inquired.

'Absolutely,' the bartender responded pleasantly, 'Thank you! I'll get your form for you to sign.'

As David began to drift into a state of noticeable intoxication, it became clear he was oblivious to how quickly the drinks were taking their toll on him. A common issue for those who don't drink much is overestimating their alcohol tolerance and underestimating the time it takes for the effect to kick in, often based on seeing others drink.

David found himself experiencing that very phenomenon when he noticed his vision had a slight delay. It was like a lag; he would turn his head abruptly and his sight would take an extra moment to catch up, a subtle but nagging sensation. Additionally, he felt as if his legs were lighter, making each step a bit wobbly. He had barely finished half of his second double shot.

The dealer slid and flipped him an Ace.

Overall, David felt fine, surprisingly relaxed. He thought he had been wandering around for an hour, but after glancing at his phone, he realized it had only been ten minutes. 'Well, what the heck,' he muttered to himself before doing another shot. Though it stung a little and felt like his ears were going to ignite, it was certainly easier to handle than taking the entire double at once.

Although David was a bit let down that none of the preferred table games were available—not the live ones at least—he still felt like he wasn’t ready to call it a night.

He slid two green chips out there.

'Changing five-hundred,' the dealer announced in her usual tone, even though only David, the pit boss, and another player were present in the table games area.

'Right,' the pit boss replied, her tone casual as she often dropped formalities at this late hour with such a sparse crowd. In fact, she would probably be irritated to be working this shift if she depended on tips. Although all tips were pooled in the casino, save for poker dealers, there was still some satisfaction that many dealers derived from earning themselves a small bonus. Besides, having active players made the shift feel faster, as they couldn't just lounge at the pit boss station with a Sudoku book like she could. She glanced at her book, pleased to confirm that, indeed, the '1' fit perfectly in the top right corner of the upper-middle quadrant. 'This shift isn’t too bad,’ she mused.

The dealer slid David's green chips across the table, suggesting he might want to exchange some for red or white ones for side bets. The dealer figured that if he had smaller denomination chips, he might tip her. After several moments of hesitation, David declined again, and she sent the chips back, waiting for him to place a bet.

At that moment, a cocktail waitress approached, cheerfully asking, 'Drinks or coffee, gentlemen?' Both David and the other man, a sandy-haired fellow in his early forties, declined, but the waitress reached for David's whiskey glass.

'Hold on,' he interjected, 'I’m not done with that yet.'

The waitress tilted her head at his glass, slightly puzzled at what there was to finish, given only a couple of drops remaining. However, having an empty glass in front of him wasn't detrimental to her, so she replied, 'Alright, my apologies, just let me know when you want it taken away.'

Finally, David made a $25 bet with one of his green chips and was dealt a natural against the dealer showing a sixteen. The dealer pushed forward a green chip, two reds, and a strangely colored yellow chip marked, 'The Golden Goose Casino - $2.50.'

Opting for caution, David decided to let his winnings ride, stacking all the chips for a total bet of $62.50.

The dealer looked at him apologetically and said, 'I'm afraid those chips can't be used for betting unless you have two of them.'

'So, what exactly do you suggest I do with it?' David asked in confusion.

The dealer replied, 'You can just hold onto it. If you get another natural, you'll have two you can bet, or you can swap it for a red chip.'

Surprisingly, David decided to follow the dealer's suggestion—'Lock it up for me,' he said, 'I might not get another natural.'

When David placed a $60 bet in the next round, he was dealt a 6-7 against the dealer's ten. The dealer quickly checked for blackjack, but the coast was clear; after the other player busted, she gestured to David with her hand, asking, 'What would you like to do?'

Understanding that taking a hit was the right strategy, David complied, but received a nine, landing him a $25 loss.

At this point, the cards seemed a bit hazy, and David squinted up at the colorful lights in the casino, which felt like they were attacking his senses. Shaking his head, he refocused on the table, placing two green chips for his next wager.

The dealer wished them good luck and dealt a 7-5 to the player at first base while David, seated in the middle, received an 8-6. The dealer had an ace up and asked both players if they wanted insurance, but they turned it down. She peeked at her hole card and, with a resigned shrug, turned over a king, revealing a natural and scooping up the players' bets.

David burped and shrugged, 'Well, that was unfortunate, but whatever.' He attempted once more to stack four green chips upright in the betting circle. The other player at the first base tossed a red chip to the dealer, wished her a goodnight, and casually offered David a 'Good luck' as an afterthought before leaving the table.

The dealer smoothly pushed David his first card—a disheartening eight—and revealed her undercard. He then received a three, making his hand much better. After a minute of silence while the dealer waited for him to decide, she asked, 'What do you want to do?'

'In this situation, a double is basically mandatory, right?' he queried.

'Textbook move, sir,' replied the dealer, her earlier encouragement of side bets seemingly forgotten. 'I hate to give out bad advice, but there’s no question that this is the time to double down.'

David gathered another stack of four green chips and placed them beside his existing pile, determining that it was time to go for it.

The dealer flipped over an ace.

With a professional demeanor, the dealer retrieved his additional card and flipped it over without excessive haste, revealing a nine.

Remaining silent, she recognized that David likely had a strong chance of winning, having learned from past experiences to hold back comments until hands concluded. This approach proved wise, as she revealed a five and then a queen, maintaining a neutral expression despite her internal disappointment for the players.

David smirked, 'You seem more anxious about this than I am!' Yet internally, a slight worry nagged at him. Despite the liquid courage bolstering his confidence, the realization that he needed to protect his full four grand to stick to his betting strategy crept in once he noticed the dealer's ten-card. He felt he should never be losing money to the blackjack table. Regardless, he piled nine green chips, worth $225, into the betting circle.

The dealer, maintaining her professionalism, resisted the urge to question him, though the thought of 'Are you sure?' loomed in her mind. She dealt David a deuce, followed by an eight while she held a nine.

….a five.

'This is supposed to be a double,' David murmured.

'You’re not wrong,' the dealer replied, thoroughly professional.

David contemplated his dilemma. If he lost the hand, he could potentially be down five hundred bucks. While he knew doubling was the right strategy here, he also reasoned that hitting with a lower card might increase his chances of winning against the dealer's nine. He aimed to make the best decision, but the thought of losing over $500 in mere minutes felt unbearable. Checking his wallet for his remaining $3,500, he ultimately waved for a hit.

'Damn it!' David exclaimed, caught in a mix of relief and frustration, 'I mean, good, but damn it!'

The dealer revealed another nine, bringing her total to eighteen, and as a result, David's stack of chips was effectively doubled to $450. He felt an exhilaration that came not only from his Jack Daniel’s but also from the thrill of seeing his chips multiply so quickly. Almost instantly after this win, he lost sight of the fact that his chip pile could have been even larger. \"If I can just break even,\" David announced, \"I'll walk away from the table.\"

______________________________________________________________________________

The dealer had encountered this sentiment numerous times before and, although she didn’t keep an exact tally, she could easily gauge that roughly 10% of players voiced such intentions and actually acted on them. In reality, though, about half of those seated at the table would never manage to recover their losses, and among the ones that did, only about 10% would actually leave the game.

The dealer wished for a natural blackjack for David, but with no choices left for either of them to make, her hand of 10-10 easily defeated his 9-8. David carefully stacked six green chips, which left him with $250 in front of him, and placed them in the betting circle.

Another natural blackjack for the dealer, as she displayed an ace, though David wasn't foolish enough to take insurance. With a resigned expression, he turned to her and requested, \"Could I get a shuffle, please?\"

The dealer responded, \"I see no reason to deny that request. However, house policy requires me to seek approval since we haven't reached the cut card yet.\" She glanced towards the pit boss, saying, \"The player is asking for a fresh shuffle.\"

David's and the dealer's voices had faded into background noise, yet the volume indicated that she should address him. Temporarily breaking away from her focus on numbers, she looked up and asked, \"I’m sorry, you want to change what?\"

"No,\" the dealer replied, feeling a pang of envy since she couldn’t earn a high salary solving Sudoku puzzles all night, \"The player is requesting a shuffle.\"

"Well,\" the pit boss said, clearly irritated, \"Is he the only one at the table?\"

The dealer was nearing her limit with the pit boss's attitude. She could see that he was the sole player at the table—the only one operating in the entire casino. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she replied, \"Yes, it would seem that way.\"

______________________________________________________________________________

"Alright,\" the pit boss concluded, \"Then proceed.\"

The dealer reflected on the situation, realizing that no matter the outcome, she was stuck in a no-win scenario. They expected her to get tips, but if she asked about shuffling, she'd receive sarcasm for even needing to check since there was only one player at the table. On the other hand, if she shuffled without asking, she'd face repercussions. She thought to herself, 'Forget this place.'

She understood it was best not to impose her frustration on David, as it wasn't really his fault that the pit boss was being difficult. Even though the request for a shuffle had no real numerical advantage, she followed the procedure. She shuffled the decks by hand, allowed David to cut them, burnt a few cards as per house rules, and then asked him for his bet.

David looked down and simply pushed his remaining $250 in chips towards the dealer. He felt optimistic about his position, having drawn 8-8 against the dealer’s five, and it felt almost obligatory to split. He retrieved some five hundred dollar bills and requested to exchange them for greens.

"Changing five-hundred,\" the dealer announced.

______________________________________________________________________________

"Absolutely,\" the pit boss confirmed. The dealer still held onto David's players club card, having been too engrossed in her Sudoku to enter him into the system for rating yet.

David carefully prepared another stack and slid it to the designated area to split the two eights. As a result, he ended up with a fifteen on one hand and ten on the other. He decided to stand on the hand that totaled fifteen, then without a second thought, he doubled his bet on the ten.

The dealer revealed a ten for David, which meant that even if she managed to create a valid hand, the odds were in David's favor for the doubled hand. Following that, she unveiled a three, giving her a total of eight, and David held his breath.

David recognized that if the dealer drew a ten, it would actually benefit him. Although he would lose $250 on one hand, winning the doubled hand would bring him back to break even.

At that moment, he thought to himself, if he could just get out of this with a win, he was certain he would leave the table.

Why am I playing this?

However, the dealer turned over a deuce, giving her a total of ten. David felt his heart plummet; he had no clue how to proceed if he pressed on with the hand that had $500 at stake since he would still be down the initial $500. Even in his muddled state, he realized he wasn't following any kind of system, so he had no solid reason to expect a favorable outcome.

Next, the dealer turned another five, raising her total to fifteen.

At that point, David's spirits lifted; quick mental calculations revealed he was in a favorable position. If an ace appeared, the dealer must hit again. A two, three, or four would mean the dealer surpassed his fifteen, but if a twenty came up, he would win and recover his losses. Any card seven or greater would mean a bust, and the thought of getting a five or six was particularly distressing.

"It seems like it really wants to keep me waiting, doesn’t it?\"

The dealer picked up on the anxiety in David's voice. Normally, she wouldn’t comment during the game, nor would she pause to chat, but basic Midwestern politeness told her it was appropriate to respond: \"You won’t be waiting longer than it takes me to flip this last card.\"

"Yeah,\" David quickly replied, \"Please take your time with that.\"

The dealer complied with his request, sliding the card to its final position before revealing it. For a moment, she hesitated—as someone who was familiar with customer behavior, she knew that while most patrons wouldn’t become physical over a card outcome, the occasional verbal reprimand could be harsh and stressful. She felt uncertain about how David would react if he lost, almost against her better judgment, she flipped the card over...

The dealer had drawn the only card capable of beating both of David's hands, leaving him $1,000 poorer for the evening—or for those fleeting twenty minutes at least. Although she wanted to apologize, she reminded herself that past attempts at such heartfelt gestures had only led to their own critiques. Instead, she patiently waited for David’s next move.

David fixed his gaze on the table for what felt like an eternity, thirty seconds that seemed even longer for the dealer than for him. Eventually, he pulled out a five dollar bill he’d received from the ticket redemption machine earlier. With a resigned expression, David tossed it onto the table and murmured, \"Well, at least you put on a good show. Lock it up.\"

"Thank you, sir,\" the dealer replied, \"Wishing you better luck next time.\"

David recalled a quote from Doc Brown at the end of Back to the Future and decided to give it his own twist, saying, \"Luck? Where I’m headed, I won’t need luck.\"

The dealer was puzzled by his statement, but recognizing the reference created a smile despite her situation. \"Thank you again!\"

David staggered away from the table, shaky not only from losing a quarter of his bankroll but also due to the lingering effects of four shots of Jack Daniel’s. Realizing his glass was nearly empty, he took it with him as he wandered through the casino.

Ding

A Quick Hit Symbol, first reel!

DING, a little louder…

Two more, second reel.

DING!!!

He approached the bar with his glass in hand and said, \"Could I please get another double, and I’d like it in the same glass?\"

DING!!!

The bartender was baffled by this instruction; he typically only switched glasses upon specific requests. Why complicate his job unnecessarily? Regardless, he quickly prepared two shots of Jack and handed the glass back to David.

Wait, at least?

David took a sip and began leaving the bar when the bartender called out, \"Excuse me, sir. I apologize, but you've already used your entire dining and beverage credit, remember?\"

DING!!!!!!

"Oh, that's right,\" David responded distractedly. Realizing his immediate financial situation, he reached into his wallet and took out a hundred-dollar bill, giving it to the bartender, \"Just give me back ninety, please.\"

While one dollar wasn’t an impressive tip, it was certainly standard, particularly for such a straightforward drink. Interestingly, the bartender was a bit taken aback; many individuals who rarely drank (and David certainly fell into this category) often overlooked the importance of tipping. It also seemed there was a tendency for men to avoid tipping other men for whatever reason.

Go back to chapter 8 .

To be continued in chapter 10.

About the Author

"Thank you, sir,\" he replied, \"Oh, by the way, the bar is closing shortly. I don’t mean to rush you, but if you want anything else, that glass either needs to be empty or I can’t see it when you come back.\" The bartender then winked at David.

Written by: Brandon James