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tuc biscuit
New member
I was at work a few nights ago in the casino, it was a quiet weekday evening with a couple of dozen customers in.....the real hardened gamblers wasting away all their hard earned money, kind of a sad sight, but that is their choice I suppose.
Late in the evening, around nine o'clock I was put on a quiet roulette table at the back of the casino where no-one normally plays apart from housewives and youngsters. I had been there a few minutes on my own when a well dressed elderly man walked over.....the kind of walk where it is painfull to watch, he was shuffling along without his feet leaving the floor with the aid of two walking sticks. He sat down and layed out twenty pounds for me and I slid his stack of chips out to him which he cradles in his dry, withered hands.
I had seen this man before a couple of times, but had never really spoken to him, as I am normally pretty quiet with the customers, but something just made me ask him about his playing style.....whether he liked to try and follow the ball, or just stick to his own personal lucky numbers. He seemed glad someone had taken the time to ask him and he told me about his lucky numbers and the meanings behind them all; his grandaughters birthday, his house number when he was a child and so-forth.
There were a couple of rather rowdy younger men we could overhear from the other end of the casino, whuch caused him to bemoan the youth of today and tell me all about his time in national service and his friends......he said he could tell I was a kind boy and I reminded him of a friend he had called 'ernest' who died of chillblains one night in belgium in the middle of a field.
It was in Belgium apparently he met a young woman named 'Gabrielle', who he would sneak off and meet and talk to about how they would be married when the war was over and would start a familly, but time and war marched on and they soon lost touch.
The chap seemed happy to talk and talk about his life, his son and his grandaughters to me for as long as I would listen, and I was quite happy to..as I was feeling slightly nostalgic myself and was enjoying hearing someone else's stories.
After my stint of three hours of just me and the gentleman at the table, the manager gave the nod to close the table as there were only a handfull of players left in the place. I said to the eldery gent that I had to go and was shutting the table, he siad he would be fine sat there on his own for a while, so I smiled and said ok.
As I was leaving I bid him goodbye and he said 'thankyou, you're a good boy' and smiled.
A couple of hours later when one of the waitresses tried to stir him from an armchair he had retired to there was no response........he had just drifted away in his sleep.
I am just glad I took the time to talk to him and make his last few hours pleasant ones where someone made him fell important again, kinda made me think about a few things.
Late in the evening, around nine o'clock I was put on a quiet roulette table at the back of the casino where no-one normally plays apart from housewives and youngsters. I had been there a few minutes on my own when a well dressed elderly man walked over.....the kind of walk where it is painfull to watch, he was shuffling along without his feet leaving the floor with the aid of two walking sticks. He sat down and layed out twenty pounds for me and I slid his stack of chips out to him which he cradles in his dry, withered hands.
I had seen this man before a couple of times, but had never really spoken to him, as I am normally pretty quiet with the customers, but something just made me ask him about his playing style.....whether he liked to try and follow the ball, or just stick to his own personal lucky numbers. He seemed glad someone had taken the time to ask him and he told me about his lucky numbers and the meanings behind them all; his grandaughters birthday, his house number when he was a child and so-forth.
There were a couple of rather rowdy younger men we could overhear from the other end of the casino, whuch caused him to bemoan the youth of today and tell me all about his time in national service and his friends......he said he could tell I was a kind boy and I reminded him of a friend he had called 'ernest' who died of chillblains one night in belgium in the middle of a field.
It was in Belgium apparently he met a young woman named 'Gabrielle', who he would sneak off and meet and talk to about how they would be married when the war was over and would start a familly, but time and war marched on and they soon lost touch.
The chap seemed happy to talk and talk about his life, his son and his grandaughters to me for as long as I would listen, and I was quite happy to..as I was feeling slightly nostalgic myself and was enjoying hearing someone else's stories.
After my stint of three hours of just me and the gentleman at the table, the manager gave the nod to close the table as there were only a handfull of players left in the place. I said to the eldery gent that I had to go and was shutting the table, he siad he would be fine sat there on his own for a while, so I smiled and said ok.
As I was leaving I bid him goodbye and he said 'thankyou, you're a good boy' and smiled.
A couple of hours later when one of the waitresses tried to stir him from an armchair he had retired to there was no response........he had just drifted away in his sleep.
I am just glad I took the time to talk to him and make his last few hours pleasant ones where someone made him fell important again, kinda made me think about a few things.
