Gambler’s Bonus Reminiscences – Part II of II

Last week I wrote about a juicy game that lasted for several years in 15-machine pubs in greater Las Vegas. If you read that article first, this one will make more sense.

Near the end of the time when this game was available, the manager of one of these pubs asked if I could meet him for lunch away from the pub. Sure. No problem. He had been to some of my classes and we were friendly.

It turned out that some unnamed party wanted him to manage a bar where there were 15 of these games at the $10 level (i.e. $100 per pull because these were 10-coin machines) and wanted to know if he could arrange for the machines to be played essentially full time. I was asked if I knew enough players who might be interested in participating. I would be paid a nice finder’s fee for bringing in newbies to the game.

“What kind of bonuses did you have in mind?” I asked. The bonuses could add up to a quarter percent. If you’re playing $80,000 an hour, a quarter percent adds $200 in EV to the hourly return. As they say, it’s not chopped liver.

“Better than what exists now,” was the reply.

So, he was proposing that I be paid to bring in players who were willing to play long hours at a game that returned more than $500 per hour. Did I know players like that?

Duh! 

I had been playing in high limit rooms for more than 15 years at that point and knew a lot of competent players to whom $100-per-hand plays would not be a showstopper. Many were from out of town, but for a $500-an-hour opportunity, I speculated several would be willing to make regular extended trips. 

But I was suspicious. Why would someone pay me to find players who would cause them to lose more than $100,000 per day out of one small bar? Does that sound like a good business plan to you? 

Me neither.

My first thought was that this was going to be some sort of money laundering operation. A drug cartel, perhaps, needed to find a way to convert lots of dirty money into clean cash and a daily price of $100,000 might not be such a bad deal.

I never got to a second thought. The first one scared the hell out of me. People who run drug cartels aren’t known for being nice guys. If I entered into a financial relationship and something went wrong, I might be expendable.

I didn’t think playing this game would be illegal. But I didn’t want to think about being interrogated by some government official asking me, “How could you not have known that this was cockeyed? You’re not a gambling novice. You could have figured out this was not on the up and up.”

Almost 60 years ago, Attorney General Robert Kennedy got special laws enacted to fight organized crime. It was no big stretch to think that additional laws might be created to fight whatever was happening and that could make my life unpleasant.

So, I passed on the offer. Yes, I like to make money, but this was too good to be true and there was too much potential for things to turn out badly for me. Perhaps I’d play one day a week or so if this ever came to pass, but I didn’t want to be an every-day player or have any official involvement at finding other players. No hard feelings. Let’s stay friends.

A few years later I ran into the same manager who was then working somewhere else. This grand idea never got off the ground — although it came close. He found two other players (I knew them both) who were willing to accept commissions for bringing in other big players, but at the last minute, the plug was pulled on the idea.

I asked a few more gentle questions and it was clear he wasn’t going to be forthcoming. I let it drop. Being too nosy isn’t always healthy.

So, this turned into nothing. No harm. No foul. Even if I had said yes, nothing would have come of it. But I’ve never regretted saying no. I don’t know if this had anything to do with organized crime or not, but I’ve heard that when you get in you often can’t get out. And I want no part of that.