I started my shift at 10am. I didn’t get 10 minutes into my shift before I got a massage. This guy is a regular of mine and requested only 10 minutes. So I work on his shoulders and neck as per usual.
I hear snickering to my left so I look. Next to my regular is a wasted guy. I don’t mean drunk.. I mean SHWASTED. (Apparently this guy had been drinking at the casino since 6am, and before that he was out at a strip club since 10pm the night before.) I ask what he finds so funny and he mutters something about the massage. I ignore him and wrap up the massage I’m doing.
[I've decided to call his guy "Walter".. because it sounds like "wasted"]
Walter asks to get a massage before I moved on. So I start out with 10 minutes on his back. He turns around in the wasted fashion that most men do: face down, eyes immediately to my chest. He stares at my chest for a minute and says ‘I’d like a hand massage instead’ ooookaayyy? So I work on his hands and he continues to stare at my chest. Occasionally he looks up to play his hand at blackjack or to remark loudly to the other players. This continues for about an hour and a half: hand massage, other hand massage, neck massage, back to the hand massage.
Walter refuses to let me leave which is fine because I get paid by the minute and as long as I’m working, I’m getting paid. After he’s cut off by the waitress his drunk ass decided to make a sweet confession:
“I’m only getting a hand massage so I can stare at your tits.”
*Sigh* Typical douchebag. But to my rescue comes the ENTIRE table. My regular stands up and says ‘If you talk to her like that, there’s going to be trouble.” The rest of the table agrees and rips him a new one with profanities I don’t feel like going into.
He apologizes, I finish the massage and get paid (luckily) and move on. A couple hours later I see him at another pit and he asks to get more massage. This time he’s being a little more respectful (sober, respectful, same thing) and has me work on his back. Something happens during one of the hands and the guy becomes livid. He yells at the dealer and pit manager and stands up. He goes to walk off and I inform him he hasn’t paid me. He turns around and hands me whatever chips he has left and storms off. To end the story, I’ll let ya know I made bank that day.
To this day, some of the people from that table will stop me for a hand massage.
FYI: the joke gets old.