All In: A $1,200 Blackjack Lesson

Once Reena and I finished our Las Vegas sightseeing, I reserved the last day to try my luck on the Blackjack table. I was eager to dive in but cautious about not staking too much, knowing that the house always wins in the end. I was looking for entertainment, not financial ruin. I had just come out of one in the stock market, literally. Slot machines bored me; I wanted to play at the tables. I had never played table games before, but the movie “21” had fascinated me, with its true story of an MIT professor and his Blackjack team who beat the casinos using card counting techniques. To avoid getting carried away, I set a limit of $200, which was the most I was willing to lose that evening.

I withdrew $200 from the ATM and searched for a dollar table, which are hard to find since casinos don’t make much money from them and use them mainly as bait. I finally found one at the far end of The Strip. Since I had never played Blackjack before, I quickly Googled the rules on my phone while walking to the casino. Fifteen minutes later, I was at the table, placing my bets.

I started with one-dollar bets. The table had six players, most of whom were like me—cheap and cautious. Alcohol was free, as casinos want you to drink and gamble more. After two hours and a few beers down, I was still even on money. “Not bad for a first-timer,” I thought. Another hour passed, and I was down $50. “I still have $150 left. I can carry on for a few more hours,” I thought, unconcerned.

But then I lost another $50. “This isn’t working. I need to increase my bets to recover my losses quickly,” I thought with the same gambler mindset that had ruined me in the stock market, I hadn’t learned anything from that ordeal after all.

With beers clouding my judgment, I started placing $5 bets. Thirty minutes later, I had bankrupted myself. I had nothing left to play with, so I left the table in disappointment.

“It’s only 11 pm, and life in Vegas starts at night. What am I going to do in my room? I don’t know when I’ll visit Vegas again, so why not play some more? I lost a fortune in the stock market, and here I am mourning a $200 loss?” I rationalized.

I went to the ATM to withdraw more money but found I had only $50 left in my bank account. I couldn’t use my credit card because casinos don’t accept them to prevent people from drowning in debt. Desperate, I called my bank’s customer service.

“I need $1,000 right now. Can I do a balance transfer from my credit card to my bank account?” I asked.

“Yes, but there will be a 6% APR for the transaction,” he said.

Thinking 6% wasn’t too bad, I went ahead with the transfer. Minutes later, I was loaded with $1,000 and back at the casino. My seat at the table was still vacant.

“Chips for 200, please,” I said, handing over two $100 bills to the dealer. I was all set for the next round.

I started with $1 bets again but quickly realized I wouldn’t recover my $200 with such small bets. So, I increased the bets to $10. Other players began to notice my larger bets. Two hours later, I had lost the entire $200.

“Chips for 300, please,” I said, handing over more bills to the dealer. Another two hours, and $300 was gone. The other players started sympathizing with me, having watched me lose $700 on a $1 table. Frustrated, I put all my remaining money on the table.

“Chips for 500, please.”

Everyone thought I was determined to bankrupt myself. Now placing $25 bets, I was drawing attention from everyone at the table.

“Alright, I’m outta here. I’m gonna watch his game now,” one player said, pulling his chips closer, eager to watch my game.

Even the dealer seemed sympathetic at this point. Though I won some bets, keeping my hope alive, I eventually was down to my last $100. It was a do or die.

“Here!” I said, putting all my remaining chips on the table.

“Here comes the big one! I’m gonna hold my bet,” another player said, and everyone else followed, watching the outcome with bated breath.

The dealer distributed the cards. I drew until I reached 20. “Finally! This bet is a win!” I sighed with relief.

The dealer revealed his cards—Blackjack. The entire table sighed in unison. I dropped my head into my hands and left the table in disappointment and disgrace. That night had cost me $1,200.