Dinner in the steakhouse
comes at a price
20 August 1999
By Mark Pilarski
Dear Mark,
This episode happened to me recently in Las
Vegas. I was playing blackjack making $10 wagers
when I was approached by a pit boss asking if
there was anything he could do for me. "Sure," I
replied. Can I get a dinner at the steakhouse?"
His response was, "Let me track your action for
a few minutes and I'll tell you what we can comp
you." Well, as luck would have it, the cards
weren't going my way and I left without
following up on that steak dinner. But I still
want to know what the pit boss meant by tracking
my action for a comp? Stanley K.
First, Stanley, the comp (steak dinner) is
nothing more than a reward system for the worthy
play of high volume players. The casino thanks
you by rebating back some of your losses because
you played at such a level, for such a period of
time, and because they have such an advantage
over you; the longer you play the more they win.
So here's your carrot and please come back
again.
Tracking your play means taking your average bet
and multiplying it by the hours played, speed of
the game and the casino advantage. This, in
theory, should equal your loss.
In your case, Stanley, you mentioned betting $10
a hand. With two hour's play, averaging 100
hands per hour, coupled with the house advantage
of five percent they hold over the average
blackjack player, this tells Mr. Pit Boss you're
going to lose $100. Because mathematically
you'll lose that Ben Franklin, the casino can
afford to rebate your losses in the form of a
corn-fed beef dinner.
The warning here is that to give comps, the
casino is going to demand action, preferably
losing action. They also want you to bet a
decent chunk of change for an extended period of
time to justify giving you freebies.
Of course, Stanley, I always recommend grinding
any comp you can get out of the casino, but I
caution all players never to gamble just to
receive them. It's much better to make sensible,
low house advantage wagers, which will increase
your winning opportunities.
Dear Mark,
You said in a recent column that it was easier
to hit my state lottery than to get a sequential
royal flush. I can't be sure, but it seems I've
gotten the latter but was never fortunate enough
to hit the lottery. Are you sure? Shirley L.
Using a software program called Statistics Menu
from Spreadware, I find that the numbers crunch
this way. The chances of hitting the California
lottery are 18,009,460 to one. For an ascending
royal flush in any suit, the chances are one in
311,875,119, a difference of elephantine
proportions.
These "gimmick" bonus jackpots are nothing more
than a marketing scheme to induce play. In most
cases, Shirley, it's more than a challenge to
win, it's impossible.
Dear Mark,
Which slot machine revolutionized slots as we
know them today? Jeff C.
My answer, Jeff, will subject me to heated
debate among one-armed bandit collectors- of
which I'm not one-but my biased guess would be
the 1964 "Money Honey" manufactured by Bally's.
This machine was the first to have electronic
circuitry to read the reels, a hopper, relays
for protection against slot cheating and a
brightly lit front end. The latter, mind you,
was not for esthetics but for inducing play.
Dear Mark,
On a recent trip to Las Vegas, I noticed a
fascinating slot machine on display that was
built from a wooden cowboy. As a collector of
gambling artifacts, I would like to add one to
my collection. Two questions: Are these machines
a rarity? And who designed them? Stewart K.
Scarce, yes, as only 92 were made in 1950. The
ingenious cowboy artist who created the
life-size human figures on slot machines was
Frank Polk.
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