I was playing video poker at a Dotty’s — a chain of 15-machine bar/casinos where I can still eke out an edge. I was playing high stakes for there ($50 a hand) at about 4 a.m. one Sunday morning, sitting off in a corner where the rest of the place spread out before me.
Directly across from me, a lady I’ll call Susan, called the bartender over and said her machine had shorted her a hundred dollars. It didn’t involve me and I didn’t have any information about it, so I watched silently. Voices weren’t raised, but I could still hear things clearly.
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