Load the Cards (1/2) By Sean Davey

(1/2), (2/2).

Loading up the cards and I start thinking. I think about casino's, and all that is. Imagine a building dear reader, where degenerate, and often eccentric behaviour is not only the norm. its positively encouraged. Heavy drinking and gambling is as much a part of the punters mind as work, or going for a meal. Its just what they do to get their kicks. So, I'm loading the Christmas cards onto the machine, and they whizz into it.

I quit my job at the casino, again. And now I'm stuck in another job working with monkeys making Christmas cards in mid-june. They whizz into the machine and they take a good 30 seconds to get all the way through.

I have no interest in learning why or what goes on inside this piece of shit machine, I just put the cards on. And I think. It's not uncommon to see a highly drunk and clearly wired Chinese man to run around throwing 50 pound notes around like confetti. The first time you see it, I'll admit, it freaks you out. You check all the 50's cos you've never seen one before. They're slightly bigger than 20's and very red. So you check them. For the first grand at least.

Yeah, so the cards go in, and they make this noise as they're whizzing in. Like a steam pressure noise. The noise happens every time the cards go in to the front of the machine. The cards get twisted around, and theirs three main parts to this machine. The Heidelberg Offset GTO2. The front bit, the glitter, and the heat. Always avoid the heat. That's what they told me, and that's what I do, avoid the heat. So I put the cards in, and they twist and turn and then some glitter gets poured on them, and they go to the Heat. I stay where I am, the belt brings them back to me.

I move as little as possible all day. But I constantly think. I haven't spoken one word since I came in 3 hours ago. Not one. Because I'm doing my job they leave me alone. And that's how I like it. The 'team leader' is supposed to ask if its running smoothly every hour, but he couldn't give a fuck about the machine or the cards, he gave up a long time ago. Some washed up relic of a man. His first topic of conversation when I started here a few weeks ago was that he was a soldier for 15 years, and then a bouncer for 8.

"And now you make Christmas cards Dave?" I think his name was Dave. He didn't say it wasn't so that's what I keep calling him. "Yeah, for a bit, then back to bouncing." "Well, good luck with all that then"

And that was 2 weeks ago, it's just agreed we don't speak now. If I don bother him with silly things like toilet breaks or falling over and breaking my spine, he wont talk to me. And that's how we both like it. But the punters, oh the punters, yeah they love to talk. All fucking night, they talk to each other, the table, the dealer, themselves. Cursing whoever they can at their lack of luck. Like they do every night. Every fucking night.

"Why cant I win ever? I have no luck at all, I swear, if I put 5 pound on red, I know it would come in black." The dealers ALWAYS think about saying the obvious back, some do, but most don't. Because they've been through the motions 5 times already that night, and its just plain boring to argue with fucking idiots. You just let them keep talking shit, and you listen. The best punters bet huge amounts, upwards of 100 pound a spin, and they say nothing at all, just their call bet, please and thank you. They command respect, with silence. A wry smile when you hit an empty number, because they'll get your next spin. The best punters are very few and far between.

Continued... Next Page (2/2)

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