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Best of Frank Scoblete
Act it if you don't feel it26 October 2008
There is something in the human heart that needs to be appreciated and liked and maybe even loved. Many men and women would love to be worshipped as well. Short of all that, most of us will take a pleasant friendliness in the people we must deal with, especially in our leisure time pursuits.
I remember one particularly horrid meal I had in New York City's theater district. My wife, the beautiful AP, and I, along with gambling's maverick author Walter Thomason and his wife, best-selling romance novelist Cynthia Thomason, were going to see the delightful hit The Music Man and we selected a restaurant near the theater and we made an early reservation — 5:30 p.m. — so we could make the 8 p.m. curtain. This restaurant had come highly recommended by someone I will never talk to again!
The waiters were the nastiest people I have ever met. Poor Walter ordered a drink before dinner, then during dinner, then after dinner — the same drink, because they never brought it to the table. Yet the drink appeared three times on the check. The service was slow. The food was cold when it was brought to the table and when we left we told the maitre d' that the service and the food left a lot to be desired.
He looked at us and said disdainfully, "This is New York, if you haven't noticed." I have no idea what he meant since I have been living in New York for more than half a century. Was he saying that nastiness is something we New Yorkers should be proud of? Most New York restaurants have very friendly waiters by the way. So did he think we were tourists who had to be mistreated to get his version of the New York flavor? Beats me.
Almost topping this dining disaster was one I had in Memphis, Tennessee at a restaurant everyone told me had the best barbecued ribs on the planet. I was staying at the delightful Peabody Hotel and I went nearby to enjoy this world famous barbecue. Aside from the fact that the ribs went down like bricks, the waiters at this restaurant were frothing cousins to their New York City counterparts. Even worse, I found the restaurant greasy, the plates smudgy, the drinking glasses smeared. I had a hard enough time starting my meal, much less finishing. I don't care how famous a restaurant is — filth is filth. The surly waiters almost threw the plates on the table and when I ordered a glass of wine — the glass looked like those jelly glasses that Welch's used to sell so when you finished your jelly you had a cheap glass. The wine at this dump did not taste as good as the Welch's jelly either.
These two events brought home the fact that not everyone belongs in the "service industry." When I was a young man I worked in a fancy restaurant where I wore a tuxedo and spoke with a slight French accent (this restaurant only hired people with foreign accents so all of us Americans pretended to be from somewhere else) and I know that many nights I had to act friendly even though I didn't feel friendly. That's the nature of the job — you must be professional and friendly if you want to be a good waiter or waitress. In a real sense you are the servant of those whom you are serving and no one wants a surly servant.
Now is it easy to be a servant? No, many times it is difficult because the people you are serving, over the course of a day, a night, a week, a career can sometimes be tough to deal with. That one nasty person can make an otherwise great day turn somewhat sour. But a professional is a professional. Actors in a bad mood must still show delight if the scene in the play calls for it. A waiter must show the same friendly face even if inside he is steaming because of this or that event or patron. If a servant can't do that he or she should seriously consider another job.
The casino industry is no different than any other service industry. From the moment you drive onto a property you are meeting service people — valet parkers, bellhops, reservation clerks, dealers, pit personnel, waiters, waitresses, spa attendants and more — all of them working jobs where your satisfaction is the key to their performance. The casino-hotel has made a commitment to making your stay enjoyable.
Players who play at tables with surly dealers certainly have diminished pleasure. The dealers can't make you win or lose, of course, but they can present you with a winning attitude, a friendly disposition, and a professional demeanor. So how come some dealers seem like fire-breathing dragons, ready to incinerate you for daring to talk to them? Because they haven't learned the most important aspect of the service industry — acting.
I learned from being a waiter that it didn't matter what I was actually feeling. The patrons at the restaurant weren't interested in my internal state. They were there for a gourmet meal served by a professional waiter. So that is the role I played. I showed the same disposition whether my internal state was happy or glum.
Dealers, pit personnel and others you encounter in the casino environment must perform their roles regardless of their inner states. What's inside is irrelevant to the job.
Let me close with a great moment from the lives of two of the world's greatest actors, Laurence Olivier and Dustin Hoffman. They were filming Marathon Man and the scene to be shot was supposed to be about Hoffman's character having stayed awake for 24 hours. Hoffman, being a method actor, wanted to do the scene for real — so he stayed up for 24 hours before the filming. Of course, he could not remember his lines and he was screwing up left and right. Olivier, to be helpful, said to him, "My dear boy, if you had learned how to act you wouldn't have had to stay up all night!"
This article is provided by the Frank Scoblete Network. Melissa A. Kaplan is the network's managing editor. If you would like to use this article on your website, please contact Casino City Press, the exclusive web syndication outlet for the Frank Scoblete Network. To contact Frank, please e-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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