I pressed the "Three Coins" button and watched the wheels turn, then stop one after another. A low-end combo came up, and the guy won six credits.Well, I told myself, that was something I could worry about later. For today, I needed to concentrate on practicing triple drink deliveries.
After I got shrunk, I went out to the floor and dove right in, figuring I was as ready as I'd ever be, and subconsciously trying to impress Beth, who I knew was watching. Doing the triples proved to be no trouble at all, as I'd expected. I'd already gotten used to mentally tagging each customer so I could find them again later.
Here's an interesting fact for you to consider. When everything is three times bigger than normal, you notice a lot more details. Belt buckles, for example. How often, when you meet someone for the first time, do you bother to notice their belt buckle? When you're only two feet high, though, it's usually the first thing you see, and here in Vegas a LOT of people have something distinctive holding up their pants. I quickly learned to identify customers not only by their clothes, but by the special designs they liked to wear.
Anyway, an hour or so into my shift I was cruising around the place, practicing being cheerful and happy, when a customer asked me if I could help him out. Now, I'd already been through this a few times, and it wasn't all that unusual to get a special request. Beth had explained on my first day that I'm supposed to do whatever the gambler asks, so long as it's within reason, even if it meant I had to deviate from my usual assigned zone. For example, earlier in the day I'd had to lead a customer to the telephones, and yesterday, I helped a woman find her husband, who it turned out was playing roulette.
Since I was supposed to be a happy, friendly cocktail girl, I replied in as cheerful a voice as I could muster. "Certainly, sir," I said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"
The man was old, perhaps in his sixties, and was wearing a floral print shirt that suggested he'd recently been in Hawaii. He looked like he wished he were back there, his expression betraying the fact that he wasn't having a very good time. This would be a perfect chance to test out my newly discovered cheerful mood.
"Thanks," he said in a raspy voice, standing up from his seat at the slot machine and looking down at my tiny self. "I need you to do me a favor. My luck seems to have run out, and I need it back. I'm down almost fifty bucks."
That was a lot on the nickel slot machines. It had probably taken him a few hours to lose that much. Come to think of it, the guy had been sitting here since the start of my shift. "What can I do, sir?" I asked, continuing to force myself to smile.
"I need you to spin the wheels for me a few times," the old geezer told me in complete seriousness. "Get my luck back. Otherwise, my wife'll kill me."
I looked up at the slot machine. Like everything else, it was designed for full sized people, standing about six feet high with its controls at waist level. There was no way I could reach the buttons at my size.
I almost refused at once, especially since employees weren't actually supposed to gamble on duty. It was okay to do so as long as the gambler agreed, of course, but he had to give a clear and unmistakable signal to that effect, so it was all on camera. Regardless of that, though, pushing the buttons meant I'd have to climb up on the chair, and I didn't really like that idea much.
I would have told him no, except for the conversation I'd had with Beth earlier on. I was supposed to be as friendly as possible, and do whatever the customer asked, within reason. Climbing up onto a chair and spinning the slots a few times was certainly reasonable, no matter how much I didn't like the thought. "All right, I'll be happy to," I lied, "but just to be sure, I need you to give me a formal OK, so I can gamble your money for you."
"Yeah, I know," he told me. "I've done this before." Looking up at one of the camera domes on the ceiling, he pointed at the machine, then at me, and gave a thumbs-up.
"Thanks!" I said, glad that I didn't have to go through the trouble of explaining. You see, casinos had been sued before when an employee gambled on behalf of a customer and lost. Inevitably, the claim was that the customer hadn't really given permission, or that the employee had misunderstood their request. With evidence like this on tape, though, the guy would have no case.
Now all I had to do was get up onto the chair. It was about at eye level and comfortably plush, and like most such seats it was attached directly to a stand in front of the slot machine. I didn't have to worry about it sliding away from me, but I was a little concerned that I might be unable to keep a grip on it as I climbed. "Do you need some help?" asked the old man, seeing me hesitate as I studied the chair.
"Nope," I told him, again forcing a smile. "I'll manage. I'm just not used to climbing into chairs this big."
He chuckled. "You must be new," he said amiably.
"Pretty much," I admitted. Grabbing hold of the seat's front edge, I pulled myself up and then slid into the middle of the cushion. Just as it had been the first day when I got up on the table, I found the climb unusually easy. "This is my third day. It's a lot different being so small."
"I'll bet," said the old man with a twinkle in his eye. "Thirty years ago it was drugs, twenty years ago it was nose rings, and ten years ago it was jet pack racing. Today, it's being shrunk. Harrumph! I'll never understand the younger generations!"
I laughed. He seemed like a likeable old coot, and I was glad I'd agreed to help him out.
Standing up, I faced the machine, which like most had a series of buttons available for use instead of the traditional handle. On this particular machine, you could spend either one, two, or three coins on each spin, and if a certain combination came up, you could get a "bonus." In the bonus spin, you could stop the wheels yourself by hitting the buttons as the symbols flashed by. This sounds easy, but it really wasn't. A skilled player could probably make money on the bonus rounds, but the way the machine's odds worked, by the time you got there you were probably already down quite a pile of nickels.
"So," I said once I was in place, "how many coins should I spend?"
"Oh, three, of course," said the man. "The payoffs are bigger that way." That was true, of course, but only at the highest levels.
I pressed the "Three Coins" button and watched the wheels turn, then stop one after another. A low-end combo came up, and the guy won six credits.
"Thanks!" he said happily. "See, my luck's already changing. Keep going, please!"
"Sure," I replied, still smiling, and fingered the buttons again. Nothing came up this time, but he urged me to continue, so I did.
After about a dozen spins, I was beginning to get nervous. How long was I going to have to stay here? I couldn't hang around too long, because there were other people on the floor who wanted drinks. Then, just as I was thinking about asking if I could go, the wheels stopped on the bonus symbol.
"All right!" the man said excitedly. "I haven't seen one of these in twenty minutes!"
"Should I get down so you can play?" I asked hopefully.
"No, no, go ahead," he urged. "You do it."
Somehow, I managed to keep smiling as I turned back to the machine and activated the wheels. Trying my best, I pushed the stop buttons one after the other, and managed to catch a jackpot symbol in the last window. That earned the man a hundred credits.
It was only five bucks, but the guy looked like I'd just saved his life or something. "Thank you, thank you!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I think my luck's finally changed!"
Well, it wasn't his luck, it was mine, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. Gamblers were a strange, superstitious lot, after all. "You're welcome, sir," I told him, "but I need to get back to work now."
"Oh, yes, of course!" he replied. "Here, let me help you!" Before I could say anything, he reached down, wrapped his hands around my waist, and lowered me to the floor!
Looking back on it, I don't know exactly how it was I managed to avoid screaming. I think I froze solid from the shock of it. I hadn't seen his motion coming at all, and in fact had been glancing at the floor to plan how I was going to climb down without hurting myself. The next thing I knew, he was picking me up off the chair!
After my feet hit the ground, I have this vague memory of him thanking me again and sitting back down at his slot machine, probably already forgetting I was even there. I stepped away and leaned up against a nearby wall, hyperventilating and feeling more than a little bit dazed.
Within a few seconds, a security man appeared next to me and gave me a quizzical look. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
"Yeah," I replied absently. When he'd grabbed me, the man hadn't squeezed hard enough to hurt, only enough to make sure he had a firm grip. He'd also managed to keep his fingers around my waist and hips, not trying to fondle me or anything rude like that.
The whole thing had been completely innocent, I realized. He was just trying to help me out. "I'm okay," I said, recovering slowly. "I just need a minute or so."
"Very well," the guard replied, then stepped over to the old man at the slot machine. I heard him say something like "Sir, please don't pick up the waitresses."
At that, I suddenly started to feel embarrassed. It was bad enough having been picked up in the first place, but to have to be protected like I was helpless was intolerable. Yet another reason to not like being shrunk, I thought angrily.
Forcing myself to calm down, I stood up and went back to work.