Thought you'd appreciate a popular excerpt from one of my recent books.
Maybe you'll learn something.
-or-
Maybe you'll just feel really sorry for one of the characters.
This A True Story!
How to Lose $65,000 in 50 minutes.
"You can't win consistently until you fully understand why you've lost”.
-John Rothschild
Introduction
Thought you’d appreciate a popular excerpt from one of my recent books. Maybe you’ll learn something—or maybe you’ll just feel really sorry for one of the characters.
The Roommate Dilemma
I was three months out of undergraduate school, had taken just enough philosophy courses to screw up the rest of my life, and had begun studying for my MBA in Statistics. Money was tight. There was only one way to afford tuition: get a roommate to help pay the bills, work all day, and take classes at night. Combining my job with school was demanding but manageable. To be kind, my choice of a roommate, Steven, was a disaster.
Rather than work, Steven was more concerned with nocturnal activities. He had lots of friends who were having “fun” in our apartment, while I was getting up for work or trying to study.
Enter Andy: The Casino Enthusiast
Early one morning, I woke to an unfamiliar body watching TV in my living room. Steven must have benevolently donated our couch again to another new friend, Andy. Artificially alert, Andy didn’t look like he would need a bed for a few more days.
Andy would have been a casting agent’s dream to play a late-night casino bar patron. One who would look comfortable with a cup of coffee in one hand and a shot glass in the other. He was slightly overweight and seemed content wearing pants with an expandable waistline that he could exploit for years.
The Fateful Decision
I was on my way to the kitchen, wasn’t in the mood for conversation, and mumbled hello. He caught me off guard and responded with an ambitious, “Hi, I’m Andy, do you have a car?” Without thinking of any ulterior motives, I just said, “yes.” Oops.
Andy had been at an all-night party and was trying to find anyone who would drive him 90 miles to Atlantic City. At the time, except for Las Vegas, this was the only other gambling option in the country.
The Casino Experience
We arrived at one of the major casinos. It was illuminated by sexy glittering signs, enabling thoughts of lucrative grandeur. The lobby was embellished with expensive chandeliers and miniature waterfalls—all paid for by the generously treated patrons.
After the long drive, I needed to use the washroom. Casinos are designed to make you work to find the necessary facilities. They would rather have you wander the floor and make a charitable donation to a slot machine.
The Bathroom Manager’s Ingenious Model
Looking down one of the long hallways, I finally found a small restroom sign, pointing to a porcelain cavern. The entrance was guarded by a nondescript man sitting behind a table with paper towels and cheap candy. He may have had the easiest job in the world.
I didn’t expect to find such a simple and lucrative business model two feet inside the entrance to the bathroom. His job as the “bathroom manager” was to hand you a towel after you washed your hands. In return, you got to give him a dollar while he offered you a mint. His cost of goods sold, or maybe we should just call it “his box of mints,” couldn’t have been more than a few dollars a day. They were stored under his towel table in a box that looked like it could have been thermoluminescence dated. One towel, one mint, and one unemotional smile got him at least one dollar from each customer. What a great idea for a franchise!
I left the men’s room expecting Andy to be either waiting outside or at the bar having a drink. Instead, I realized he had a compulsive agenda. He was already at a blackjack table, looking even more at home than he did on my couch. I walked over, sat down, pulled out my wallet, and then noticed the table minimum. It was $100. Who was this guy?
Navigating the Casino Floor
I was more comfortable wagering $95 less per hand, finally found a table, and settled in. I knew the odds and had no illusions of getting rich. If you choose every bet correctly, your chances of winning or losing are just about even. If you count cards, which is mentally exhausting, you can gain a 3-4% advantage on the house over the long run.
It only took about 20 minutes before I started to feel like the typical gambler. I was losing and started questioning naturally occurring circumstances:
- “If I sit here long enough, shouldn’t my luck change?”
- “If the player beside me didn’t split 6’s, wouldn’t I have gotten better cards?”
- “Has a dealer ever been this lucky?”
- “How did I lose $50 so quickly?”
My “free drinks” were awfully expensive. That was it! I was done with my charitable contributions and decided to find Andy. It wasn’t hard. He had established a territory, not planning to relinquish control. I asked how he was doing and got a response I’ve heard many times since, as he handed the dealer another bunch of $100 dollar bills. He told me that he was “Breaking Even.”
Slot Machines and Oxygenated Floors
I left and decided to try my luck with the slot machines, which have become cartoon versions of scratch-off lottery tickets. Lots of visuals, but everything is predetermined, including my longevity “spinning the wheels.” Another 15 minutes, another wasted $50 dollars. Boy, was this fun. Hopefully, Andy was doing a little better.
Supposedly, casinos pump oxygen onto the floor to keep gamblers stimulated and upbeat. Maybe his table wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Nobody looked happy, especially Andy. He tried to look controlled, but wasn’t. I tried to convince myself that he wasn’t addicted to gambling. Maybe he was just addicted to sitting in a semi-circle.
The Balcony Conversation
He had few chips left, so I decided that maybe we should just leave. I was surprised when he agreed, but first, he wanted to have a cigarette on the balcony. I didn’t smoke, but got the feeling that he needed some kind of support. We took the scenic route past the roulette and poker tables filled with mostly emotionless stoic faces.
Andy pushed open a door marked “Open Only in Case of Fire.” I guess lighting a cigarette counts. His trembling hand struck a match and frenetically moved towards its target. There was no eye contact. He gazed at the stained tile floor and possessively sucked in the smoke.
I watched and thought, “Aren’t you supposed to exhale before you inhale again?” And then asked the now obvious question. “How much did you lose?”
Suddenly, I became the priest at confession, a rabbi performing repentance, or a psychologist ready to listen before giving advice. He answered, “Almost $65,000!” dollars!”
I had no response. This wasn’t football wagering. He was playing against the house and literally had no advantage. The young man who was quick to ingratiate himself a few hours earlier now had nothing to say.
Faces of Guests
As we left the casino, I couldn’t help but notice the dichotomy of facial expressions of guests coming and leaving. Those entering seemed carefree and eager. Those leaving looked lobotomized. There would be more surprises on the ride home.
Memories of Loss and Shock
Some things you recollect more vividly than others. Most can remember exactly what they were doing during defining historical events or the passing of someone famous. These memories are all associated with loss and/or shock.
We’ll categorize my response to Andy’s next comment as shock. We were almost back home, going down Belmont Avenue and approaching a Sunoco station on the left. Andy decided it was time for another admission. Without any prior discussion, he announced that he actually had lost much more.
The Startling Revelation
I thought: How was this possible, and how much more? He continued: That he had inherited $80,000 from his father four weeks ago, wagered it all, and had nothing left. At the moment, I didn’t feel like being provocative and said little.
As we arrived at his home, he felt compelled to tell me one more thing. At this point, I thought nothing was beyond belief or stupidity. Just before he got out of my car, he revealed that he had actually lost more than the $80,000. No comment was needed as Andy continued: “I thought I could win the money back and was playing with funds from a loan shark!”
Embarrassed and hopefully scared, he shuffled up some old wooden steps into his little rundown apartment, ending our 16-hour relationship.
The Casino Patrons
Casinos and sportsbook patrons may be the greatest per capita inhabitants of studio apartments in the country. If Andy had just shown a little willpower and done some easy research, he might have lots of money today.
Epilogue: A Reunion at the Racetrack
A few years ago, Andy somehow found my box at the Saratoga racetrack. I offered to give him some opinions on the upcoming football season; instead, all he wanted was a loan.
Hoping for another great football season.
My only guarantee is to outwork everyone else.
It usually works!
John Rothschild
20241002_006