Last Harrah

A rediscovered gem from 1973, my rebellious days...

I originally got this published as a letter to the editor of the University of Nevada student newspaper.  At the time, I was married to the Chinese Lighting Director at Harrah's, raising horses and paying for them by working at Harrah's Club in Reno as a high limit Blackjack dealer.  Someone who saw this piece cut it out, copied it, and put the copies on all the upstairs bosses' desks at Harrah's; after which the employee counselor came downstairs, stood in front of my table and said, "Well you did it again, didn't you, Rebecca!"  No real problem; it gave them all a laugh.  The reason for the size regulation was so that nobody could hide casino chips in earrings, which anybody could see would be impossible with hoops. I still like the piece and remember the feelings very well...

EDITOR:
     For the past seven years, Harrah's Club and I have been engaged in a subtle warfare.  I resent being poured into a mold, stripped of all apparent individuality, and turned out onto the Blackjack table expected to be The Personality Kid.  Harrah's has an elaborate and explicit set of dress regulations, all of which I'm thoroughly familiar with and each of which I've stretched and bent many times.  One night recently, I was guilty of a grand total of six minor infractions of the dress code, yet somehow still managed to look like a little black-and-white puppet, just like everybody else.  The least obvious violation was my tiny, thin, inconspicuous gold-wire loop earrings, one-eighth of an inch larger than the diameter of a quarter, the code's maximum specified size.
     In any large operation, the managerial puppeteers periodically pull on everybody's strings, and on the night in question, a young pitboss began his little dance.  One can't blame him, really; he isn't paid to think or use his own discretion any more than I am, and being well-drilled in the fine art of following orders and an ambitious young man, he suddenly saw an obstacle along the yellow-brick-road to promotion - an impediment to his progress: my earrings!  Aha! Digging through the archives, he unearthed the long-buried phrase and presented it triumphantly to me to read.
     With a caustic comment on the admirable sharpness of his eyesight to have discovered so glaring an infraction so quickly, (I had been wearing them continuously for six months), I removed them and returned to my game.  When I was relieved for my break, I carefully hung them from my nose, and smiling benignly back at astonished grins, I pointed my chin at the ceiling and slowly marched out of the pit.  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed my young pitboss, not a bad sort, really, his hand shading his eyes, scarlet with embarrassment and convulsed with laughter.  I think I made my point.  A word to the wise to all who work in a uniformed job:  Heaven help anyone whose individuality rears its ugly little serpentine head!

Rebecca Just Chang