Chicago Sun-Times: It's not easy to claim a place at the table as a blackjack dealer

Q. I am currently a magazine editor looking to work part-time in a casino as a dealer, simply for a little extra income and because I would really enjoy it. I am good mathematically, smart, friendly, know all the games inside and out, a college graduate; in short, a very good dealer. How do I break into the business? Any advice?

John W.

A. Most newbies looking for jobs pitching cardboard get them in one of two ways: a) going to a local dealing school and then auditioning, or b) being hired from within, i.e. boosted from some low-level job at a casino like lugging 50 pounds of change strapped to your waist. If you cheerfully survive the mule service, rarely call in sick and your work-history file shows no major boo-boos at a time when management requires a few new dealers, you may be sent to the casino's in-house college of dealing.

But there are exceptions, of which I was one, thanks to the Ironing Board Method.

I learned on an ironing board from my roommate Jerry (who went on to become a gaming control agent for the State of Nevada), then auditioned for a job. Of course, faking it can only go so far when learning on a hot-press table. Initially, like all break-ins, I got nervous if a player happened to bet over 50 cents. That's right, folks -- my virginal hour dealing blackjack was on a 50-cent game at the Club Cal Neva in downtown Reno.

After my 20-minute break, I was assigned a dead $2 game. No problem, no bettors. I can do this. Then a gambler who obviously had enjoyed a few drinks showed up, feeling no pain, and started betting $5 to $25 a hand. Five minutes into his play, he got a pair of aces and then split them.

Huh? Mathematically interesting, I thought, punching my memory back to the ironing board, but to no avail; Jerry had never mentioned splitting aces. Actually, a frazzled dealer with limited knowledge of the game does not know what to do or pay when a player splits aces.

This crisis situation required drastic measures to avoid total disaster. So I pondered briefly whether to call over a pit boss and look like an idiot, but I didn't. Instead, I pretended to know what I was doing. I made the airy decision that if you split aces and got two face cards, as this lucky gambler had done, you just got yourself two blackjacks, so I paid him accordingly. He liked me. Oh, yeah!

I was actually paying this unmerited royalty on spilt aces for most of my first shift until an old-time pit boss named Dennis Healy noticed my generosity and asked, "You're new, right?" After I said yes, he replied, "See me on your break."

No slap on the wrist, nothing from Healy, unless you count being put on double secret probation and the demotion to the sole 50-cent game in the house for the next two months.

So to complete my answer to you, John, get a high-grade ironing board and a watchful roommate willing to spend more than four hours tutoring you.

Mark Pilarski writes a nationally syndicated gambling column. E- mail him at pilarski@markpilarski.com.