I've heard many times over about how you should visualize success . . . that when you send a story off to an editor you should visualize them reading the story with delight and instantly whisking off a contract or calling to say, "Yes! Of course I want to buy your story!"

I don't do that. Yes, I try to write the best story I can, but I don't try and visualize an editor's positive reaction. I won't even dare to think that it might get a second glance, or even deeper consideration. If I do that, if I dare to hope that my story will sell, if I engage in idle daydreaming about what it's going to be like to get that Call, or even that email, then when the Call or the email never comes, and the eventual rejection arrives instead, the disappointment is too damn crushing.

So, I hate to get my hopes up. This business isn't for the thin-skinned, and I'm not about to let my guards down any more than necessary. Instead I picture the editor reading my story, rolling his or her eyes, and saying, "Ye gods, this is the most pathetic piece of cliche-ridden drivel I've ever read."

There are times when my job is downright entertaining. Last night we sent one of the new dealers on a search for the wheel crank. Do you know what a snipe hunt is? The wheel crank is the casino equivalent, and everyone who's been in the industry for a while knows about it and willingly plays along. About 8am this morning a dealer came into my pit and said, "Scott sent me down here to get the wheel calibration thing."
Me: "The what?"
Her: "The thing for the wheel...?"
Me: (It clicks in my head what's going on) "Oh...! You mean the wheel crank?" (I somehow manage not to smile.)
Her: "Yeah! The wheel crank!"
Me: "I don't have it. Steve has it."
So she went down to the shift office, and asked the shift boss for the wheel crank. The shift boss from day shift happened to be in there too, and proceeded to tell her that it was down in maintenance, but she had to go to the gift shop and get a bag from them first, because the wheel crank was super-secret, and if any players saw us with a wheel crank we could get into all sorts of trouble.

She then dutifully went to the gift shop, got a bag, and then went down to security dispatch and asked for a maintenance man to get the wheel crank. In the meantime though, I'd called down and told them that if anyone came looking for a wheel crank, to send them back up to pit one (where I was.)

About five minutes later she came back up to pit one with her bag.
Me: "They found the wheel crank, but it was broken, so they're looking for the other one. Go see if Matt in facilities is here; he'll know where it is."

And so it went for a good half hour, until she finally came into pit two, snarling about not being able to find the @#$! wheel crank, and one of the other dealers started laughing and she figured it out.

It could have been much worse. Traditionally when a dealer is sent on a search for a wheel crank they're sent to other casinos, with orders to speak only to the games manager--who then of course refers the dealer to yet another casino, and so on. But, fortunately for her, we didn't have a spare dealer to take her place, so she was merely sent all over the ship instead.

Another interesting thing happened at work last night. A man came into the casino and requested to be 86'd (thrown out and barred from the premises.) Turns out he had a gambling problem, admitted it, and was going to each and every casino on the coast and asking to be barred. He'd never even been in our casino before, but he wanted to make sure he'd never be tempted.

I can respect that. I think that took a lot of guts to say, about a dozen times over, "I have a problem, and I need help dealing with it."