I usually play by myself and sometimes will eat a meal at the casino. When I do, I always bring along a book to read while dining. Sometimes the book is a novel. Sometimes it is non-fiction – perhaps a book by a future guest on the podcast. But eating by myself without a book seems like a waste of time to me.
On one recent day, as I finished playing, the credits on my machine amounted to $1,240. Not a particularly large amount, but large enough that I had to visit the cage to get it cashed. The ATM/Change machines at this casino would not redeem tickets of $1,000 and higher.
I needed to use the restroom before I went to the cage. So, I placed my players card, driver’s license, and ticket for $1,240 in my book, and carried the book as I went on my way. So long as I’m careful, the book acts like a safe of sorts. And I am careful. At least most of the time.
Somehow, however, I wasn’t careful enough this time. I still don’t know how it happened, but when I showed up at the cage, the book was “empty.” No ticket. No ID. No card. I checked my wallet “in case” I had put the things there instead of where I thought I put them, but no luck.
Shit.
Losing $1,240 is a nuisance rather than a disaster. Losing my driver’s license was much more of a problem. I immediately traced my steps back to the restroom, checking the floor along the way on the slim chance the items had fallen out and had not been picked up by anyone else.
Nothing.
As I was leaving the restroom, I noticed the attendant was holding a driver’s license in his hand. I identified myself and asked if it was mine. It was. I asked about the players card. He said he had thrown it away. It was still on top of the trash can, so I retrieved that as well. I asked about the ticket, and he said he didn’t know anything about that. Was he telling the truth? Who knows?
I went back to the cage and asked if they had cashed a ticket for exactly $1,240 in the past few minutes. No, they hadn’t. I then said I’d like to report a missing ticket. Soon a slot supervisor came and took my statement. We went to the machine I had been playing, where the display said that the last ticket redeemed was $1,240. I told the supervisor that I had been playing there for about three hours, always with my card, and surely their slot club records and cameras could verify that.
I had to fill out a written statement, which I did. A few minutes later a “Metro” (police officer from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department) came by and asked me for my story again. So, I told it. He wanted a written report. I told him I was willing, but if he could get a photocopy of the casino report that would be much easier.
I was asked to wait.
About 20 minutes later, another Metro came by and asked me if I wanted to press charges. I told him that my primary concern was retrieving the $1,240. He told me I was going to get the $1,240 back and the person who tried to cash it was in detention downstairs.
That was lucky!
Still, if someone had actually ripped me off, they deserved to be punished. If someone found abandoned property, maybe not. The restroom attendant was the only person who spoke to me and was definitely aware of whom the ticket belonged to. Anybody else? It’s possible it was dropped on the floor and I wasn’t sure of how the “finder-keeper loser-weeper” rule worked in this particular instance.
I was asked if I was willing to testify in court. I said yes, but I repeated that the only person I could identify was the restroom attendant who I described by age (50ish), race (Hispanic), build (medium), and other features (spoke English with very little trace of an accent). If anybody else tried to turn in the ticket, there was nothing I could say in court proving that person’s guilt.
In another 20 minutes I got my ticket back. I was never asked to identify anybody. I assume it wasn’t the restroom attendant who tried to cash the ticket.
Obviously, I’m luckier than I deserve to be. I didn’t have to discover the loss so quickly. The ticket didn’t have to be larger than could be cashed anonymously at the machines. Even discovering the loss, the one “skillful” element here was reporting it immediately.
Being able to stop the ticket before it was cashed made recovery easier. Had the ticket already been cashed, the casino might not have been so quick to pay me. There are cameras at the cage, and it could depend on who turned in the ticket. And whether they help me might partially depend on whether I’m a winning or losing player.
If it was cashed by a valued customer (i.e. one who loses a lot), the casino might not want to embarrass him by confronting him. If it was cashed by someone the casino didn’t recognize, the casino may very well have decided not to pay out the $1,240 twice.
Was there a lesson to be learned about better securing valuable things? Of course.
Two items flashed through my mind that I will leave for the reader to ponder. First, assuming I didn’t get the ticket back, how should I record that in my records? In case of audit, I want my records to match what the casino has. I didn’t come to a firm conclusion about this as I got my money back before I needed to record it.
Second, when I got the money back, how much should I have tipped? And to whom?
