Los Angeles, CA
8am. Las Vegas.
Nicky and I carefully scanned the two-page breakfast room service menu. I had a $20 per day food credit, courtesy of the Gold Coast Casino. Those shyster suits hoped that giving me a free room and free food would result in me donking off a couple of hundred bucks in the pits, specifically at the Pai Gow tables. I got the last laugh... I only lost $5 after a couple of binges. I gotta say that the few bucks I lost were probably in tips to the waitresses and dealers.
That makes me wonder why I would want to tip anyone who specifically wants to beat me and take all of my money is beyond me. At a normal cash game at a poker table, you usually tip the dealer $1 if you win a pot, or $2 or more if it's a monster. But at a blackjack table or Pai Gow table, why would you want to tip the dealer since they are my enemy? Why give them more money? I don't tip my opponents at the poker table, so why would I tip the Pai Gow dealer? In the end, I'm tipping the person who is humping the dealing job and not my adversary, but part of me feels as though it goes against the rules of engagement to tip the dealer.
Sorry for the tangent....
Nicky and I carefully scanned the two-page room service menu. We wanted to order exactly $20 worth of stuff. Not a cent more. Room service food on the whole is sub par and usually cost ridiculously inflated prices even though it's the same friggin omelete you'd get if you ordered it downstairs at the cafe. Alas, hotels generate revenue by raping their customers' inherent laziness, those who order room service instead of getting off their asses and going to eat elsewhere. I understand the convenience of late night room service when you have limited food options, so you're paying extra due to lack of availability. But to order it any other time is sort of a unnecessary expense.
Anyway, we didn't want to use my comp to eat the dysentery-inducing buffet, however the breakfast options on the room service menu weren't very appetizing. After several minutes of deliberation, we ordered a Continental Breakfast (half carafe of coffee, muffin and a cheese danish), oatmeal, and an iced tea. $19. Thanks God I wasn't paying for it.
Twenty-three minutes after we ordered, I opened the door and stood face-to-face with a young woman in tight black clothes. She wore an earpiece attached to a dangling wire leading to a radio. That's when I saw the red and white striped napkins. I had forgotten that the casino had outsourced their room service meals to TGIFridays, which had replaced the former 24-hour cafe. So one of the hostesses at Fridays wheeled my breakfast up to the room.
Room service workers are used to seeing weird shit according to Showcase who did that exact job at L'Ermitage, when he first moved out to LA to become an actor. One evening, he took up an order up to a suite of a very popular TV producer. After handing over the check, the producer eyed his junk and invited him to stay for a game of Hide the Salami. Showcase declined, left the room, and quit the job.
In Hollyweird movies, it's always the good guys/bad guys who dress up or pose as room service workers to pull off a heist or execute a mob figure.
I can only imagine some of the stories that Vegas room service employees encounter on a daily basis. Dead hookers. Mountains of blow. Random $100 black chips scattered about. Room reeking of weed. Naked passed out fat dudes handcuffed to the bed. You know, standard shit. That would be a good book to read someday.