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Casino dealers, what's the most freaked up thing you've ever seen? I've been a blackjack dealer at Golden Palace Casino in Atlantic City for almost five years now. People don't realize what we witness behind those tables, the desperate faces, the nervous tics, the silent tears when someone loses their rent money. I've seen it all, but nothing compares to what happened last winter. It was around two in the morning on a Thursday, that strange time when only the most dedicated gamblers remain. My section was nearly empty except for this one man who'd been at my table for hours, mid-forties, expensive suit, wedding ring. He'd been winning consistently, up almost fifteen thousand dollars, the kind of streak that makes floor managers nervous. Then she walked in, a woman in her early forties, elegant but clearly exhausted, with two teenage boys trailing behind her. The moment she spotted my player, her face transformed with pure rage. "Daniel," she called out, her voice cutting through the ambient casino noise. "So this is where you've been." The man at my table froze, chips stacked neatly in front of him. His face drained of color as he turned around. "Rebecca, what are you doing here?" he muttered. "How did you find me?" The woman marched directly to our table, her sons hanging back, looking mortified. "Your location sharing is still on," she said coldly. "The same app we use to make sure the boys get to school safely." The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. I kept shuffling cards, pretending not to listen, but everyone within twenty feet was watching this unfold. "Do you know where we've been for the past four hours, Daniel?" she continued, her voice shaking. "The emergency room. Your son had his appendix rupture during his basketball game. We've been calling you nonstop." The man's face contorted with shock as he looked at one of the teenagers, who was leaning against a slot machine, still pale and clearly in discomfort. "Tyler? My God, are you okay?" The boy just stared at him, a mixture of pain and disappointment in his eyes. "He's been asking for you," the woman said. "They had to operate immediately. I told him you were stuck in a work meeting. I lied to our son while he was terrified he might die, because I couldn't bear to tell him that his father wasn't answering because he was gambling." The man stood up, reaching for his son, but the teenager stepped back. "Don't," the boy said quietly. "Just don't." Rebecca noticed the chips. "How much?" she asked. "Fifteen thousand," I said. Her laugh was hollow. "While your son was in surgery, you won fifteen thousand dollars," she stated. Then, Daniel looked down, shrinking visibly. "I can fix this, I'm winning tonight," he mumbled. But she replied, "You promised you were done. We can't do this." The casino fell silent. "Cash him out," she ordered. My floor manager and I quickly counted out fifteen thousand, three hundred fifty dollars. Rebecca took the cash, then said, "We're leaving. When you're ready for help, my lawyer will contact you." After they left, he sat back down at my table, staring blankly at the felt. "Sir," I said gently, "I think you should go." He looked up at me, his eyes empty. "Deal the cards," he demanded. My floor manager stepped in. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're closing your table for the night." The man became enraged, flipping the table over and screaming that we couldn't do this to him. Security came and escorted him out. Two days later, I saw his wife in the casino, alone. She wasn't gambling. She was handing out pamphlets about gambling addiction to anyone who would take them. Security tried to remove her, but something about the quiet dignity in her face made them hesitate. I took one of her pamphlets and slipped her a hundred dollar bill when no one was looking. "I'm sorry," I told her. She just nodded and continued her mission. I quit three months later. Some things you can't unsee.

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