Kentucky Derby day is always busy at poker rooms in Florida, but this year it felt like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. For those of you not from Florida, there are at least a dozen poker rooms within two hours of my house, and most of them also have simulcast racing. The racebook crowd spills over into the poker room on Derby day—mint juleps and fancy hats looking out of place next to chip racks and bomb pots.
I was in town for one of my marathon poker weekends. I don’t get out as much as I used to, but when I do, I play up to sixteen hours, crash at a friend’s place, come back the next morning, repeat, then head home. Derby day was the opener. The room ran a multi-flight tournament series alongside the usual cash tables, so I spent the afternoon and night bouncing between tournaments, a $2/$5 game, and the cage.
I suppose it was due to the chaos that the unthinkable happened. They actually made a miscount at the cage. It was inconceivable. And yes, I’m going to use that word, and I do think it means what I think it means.
The Grind
Or did they really make a mistake?
Over fifteen hours I played a tournament flight, busted, made a short cash-game run, re-entered the night flight, busted again, then played cash until my eyes blurred. Lots of buyins meant lots of bills sliding under the bars. As I’m sure you know: casinos track money like air traffic controllers track planes – every movement is accounted for.
And yet, late that night I was three hundred dollars richer than my notes said I should be. I must have miscounted, right? The cage never makes a mistake. Somewhere in the derby-day chaos, the clerk overpaid me by three black chips? Impossible. They never make a miscount.
But what if they had? If so, that money wasn’t really mine. But then the counter-argument crept in—It’s a casino; they can afford it. Mistakes happen. They’ll write it off.
Most of my friends would probably keep it. Some of those same friends would never steal from a neighbor, yet they’ll skip scanning a couple of items at self-checkout because “Wal-Mart won’t miss it.” Apparently that mindset is everywhere.
Still, casinos don’t shrug off shortages. End-of-shift counts get reconciled against the computer, and if the drawer is short, the employee is on the hook.
The Overnight Debate
I know what you’re thinking. Steve, they don’t make mistakes at the cage. YOU must have made a miscount. But here’s the thing: Steamin’ Steve never miscounts. Call me a genius or neurotic or both, trust me, I know exactly how many chips are in my stack, and how many bills are in my pocket.
Part of me said: Bank error in your favor—move on. The other part pictured a manager reviewing camera footage, and a young cashier getting written up. I even rehearsed both conversations: one where I keep quiet and nothing happens, and one where I walk to the cage, admit there must have been some kind of mistake, and hand over some cash.
Morning arrived. I had another sixteen-hour session planned. I drove back to the poker room.
No one stopped me at the door. Security didn’t pounce. The same cage clerk was on duty, smiling like nothing ever went wrong. Play resumed: new cards, typical swings. Yet the three hundreds in my pocket felt heavier than the whole rack of chips on the table.
And that’s where the story pauses—for now.
Your Turn
So I’m throwing it to you. You discover an extra $300 in your roll after a crazy day at the tables. The casino made the miscount and apparently hasn’t noticed. Do you return it? Keep it? Something in between?
Vote in the comments below, and in a few days I’ll reveal what I decided and how it played out—because one way or another, that extra money led to an ending I didn’t expect.
Stay tuned.
Poll – Which would you do?
- If I were sure, I’d return it – it doesn’t matter whose money it is, it isn’t mine.
- I’d keep it, but probably donate it to charity or something.
- I’d keep it – it’s their own fault for not training their employees better. They probably make mistakes in the other direction and it all balances out.
Read other articles by APT Founder Steve Blay, such as What You’re Not Being Told About GTO and Limping in the blog.
