In doing research for a new article about the new changes at Caesars I decided to take a walk through to see what was the same and what was in the plans for the new expansion. I was torn between doing that on my day off and staying around the house to watch the upcoming Cubs/Astros game. Being a big Cubs fan and since the game was the only day game on the schedule, I opted to record the game on tape and maybe even put a few bucks on the game. So my first stop was the sports book. BIG MISTAKE AT CAESAR'S.

I'm no sports bettor, in fact, I'm not much of a gambler, so places like Caesar's Palace have no use for little guys like me, and they know it. Walking up to the only window open, I tried to find the Cubs game on the huge red and yellow board in the darkened sports book, but couldn't read the top lines, so I asked the ticket writer what the over/under for the game was, now I know a little about baseball, and I know the Cubs don't score many runs, and their pitching staff is the best in the major leagues and with John Lieber pitching, he doesn't give up many runs, so the obvious bet was the under in the game.

The writer replied "It's 8 1/2 " "Well, that's pretty good, especially with Lieber pitching for the Cubs" I said, "OK, let me have $44 on the under." "Well, the over/under's an even money bet, $40 wins $40, $50 wins $50." "Well, you guys know best, ok, I'll take $40 on the under." and handed him my $100 and took the $60 change along with the ticket I noticed the 8 1/2 and saw the ticket says $40 and under and a "C" in the top, anyone who's ever been in the sports book at Caesar's will tell you it's pitch black in there so that was the best I could see. Imagine if I were a blind person or of poor sight and had to rely on these guys to do their jobs right and print the ticket the way it was read back to me, exactly as I had spoken it to him.

Later that night I went home to watch the game. Each pitch was a pounding in my heart, "strike" I said, "common baby, no runs." "In the first inning both teams scored one run and I still had a six run cushion. Then John Lieber stepped out to the mound and through the next eight innings gave up only three hits to the Astros devastating offensive line-up. In return the Cubs managed to score 3 runs off Astacio, so with a 4 run total going into the 8th, I had the bet won. Then in the 9th, the Cubs got a runner on first and the catcher Girardi hit a homer for a 5-1 lead, but that was the game, and with a 6 run total, I had the win locked up. Well it's only a $40 win but for me that's plenty, I only bet $25 on the Superbowl and that's usually my only sports bet for the year with the exception of a couple of Cubs games and maybe a Bears game, but it's not a sports bet, it's a home-town bet, like we all have done.

I called my girlfriend and told her to get dressed up tomorrow night, I'd cash in the ticket, take the $80, and we'd do dinner at Caesar's famous Nero's steak house. Then since she liked to play Pai Gow and Blackjack, we'd spend a couple hours playing cards at Caesar's. This was our big night out.

The next day came and I got dressed up, looking forward to an evening out with my girl at Caesar's Palace. I got dressed up and went to Caesar's to cash in my winning ticket. I walked into the sports book and noticed the same writer at the ticket window the day before and was glad to see him, after all, he helped me the day before to find the number of the game and make the bet, some writers will ask for the number first but with this guy all I had to say was "Gimme the under in the Cubs/Astros game." and he did the rest. Or so I thought. I even took a $5 bill from my wallet to tip the guy, these guys are supposed to be the best at what they do, and we depend on the professionals in this business to help us out so we don't have to get ripped-off simply because we don't do this every day and aren't ready for their fast-handed ways.

"Hey, how ya doing? I came to cash in my Cubs ticket from yesterday." "Yah, hi, how's it going." he said, looking up at me and smiling in recognition, then took my ticket. I put the $5 bill for a tip on the counter to thank him for making the bet. "Hey, this ain't no winner." he said pushing the ticket back across the window. "Sure it is, the game only went to 6 runs, the bet was for under 8 1/2 " "Well, I don't know what game you're talking about but this ain't no winning ticket." And looking at the ticket noticed the "C" on the ticket said "Clements" I think the Yankee pitcher, the ticket said "under 8 1/2, $100 taken, $40 ticket" so he says "this was for the Yankee game you were betting the pitchers and the under, you lost man."

I was at a total loss of words. "But you made the bet for me yesterday, don't you remember?" "Uh, no , no I don't remember you or your bet, and besides it's your problem."

"Well you remembered me when I first walked up to the window, and besides, you're the writer, don't you take any responsibility for writing up the ticket correctly, you even repeated the bet back to me, you looked it up and even made a comment about the Cubs and the under was a good bet, it was in the afternoon, it was the only day game in the major leagues at the time, and there was no one here but me and a couple racing bettors."

From there I got nothing but being totally ignored, he began to shuffle papers and wouldn't even look up at me let alone answer me. I said "so you're just going to ignore me?" and he looked into space and said nothing. So I asked for the shift boss. Now I had a point to make, forget the money, I'm pissed.

Vinnie Michaels the sports book manager walks out and gives me a look like flicking a cockroach off the counter. "I heard the problem and it's not our fault, if you can't read the ticket you shouldn't be gambling." "HUH? Don't you take any responsibility for your employees, for the way they conduct themselves on the job? Do you actually think I'd come and take a cheap shot at Caesar's Palace for a lousy FOURTY BUCKS!! And try to pawn off a bad ticket?" Vinnie leans into the window, holding the ticket and says "Well, this is a bad ticket, so I guess that's what you're trying to do." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What's your name?" I asked and stepping back as if to see who's listening "I don't have to tell you that." He answered quickly and tossed the ticket into the garbage. "Well, I already know your first name is Vinnie , don't you think when I talk to the casino manager and say it was a day-shift boss named Vinnie in the sports book , he won't know who I'm talking about?:" "Well, shit, you want my card, here." and knowing he was cornered took his wallet out and threw his business card across the counter and started to walk away.

I said "I'd like that loosing ticket back so I can show your boss proof of what I'm saying", and with that he plopped the entire waste basket on the counter and said "here ya go, you want it, go get it." Well, that was all I had to hear. Now I was hurt, not just hurt personally, and outright insulted, but hurt that the once and mighty Caesar's Palace had scraped the bottom of the barrel to hire people with this elitist, arrogant attitude to deal with their once valued public.

That what used to be the classiest, the one-time greatest casino on earth, the casino that set the standard that taught the other casinos/hotels what the meaning of class and customer service would be from now on, had stooped so low as to accuse their patrons of "taking a shot" at them for $40 then put a waste-paper basket on the counter of their sports book by the sports book manager himself and told a customer to go fetch his own trash in front of everyone who was now watching this embarrassing fiasco.

The cell phone rings as I'm fishing through the trash for my crumpled up ticket as the other sports bettors and customers looked on. "Hi honey, I'm on my way to Caesar's, hope you're there already, I'm dressed and I'm starving." She sounded excited, she was looking so forward to a great dinner at a classy restaurant at Caesar's Palace, I couldn't disappoint her. So after fishing the ticket out of the trash, I went to the ATM machine and took enough money out to afford the expensive Nero's Steakhouse , she would have her dinner regardless of the shabby treatment by the sports book manager and ticket writer.

But yes I'm hot and feel cheated by having a cheap shot taken at me. I returned to the sports book and asked for the sports book manager, Chuck Esposito. But told Mr. Esposito wasn't available to me, and the person that showed up said, "I can handle this." This is called compartmentalizing, trying to keep the information within the few people to try to quell the fire before anyone higher up heard about this incident and take any action on my behalf, on the behalf of all us little people who have no power against these arrogant guys, after all, it's their game, their field, their ball.

I could file a lawsuit; go ahead, they have all the ammo on their side, along with the lawyers and time to fight. I said, "First, I want to make it clear that I don't want my money, I don't want your money. I just want an apology, the only satisfaction that will work now, but the first thing I have to ask is 'what happened to Caesar's? Here you were the #1 casino in the world, second to none in class and customer service, some guy has a one-time problem with a writer over a $40 bet he obviously printed wrong, and it wasn't a case of me telling him a number and saying the wrong number. It's a case of me asking directly for help, that I couldn't see the top of the board and would like to bet my Cubs, but just the under in the game (the Cubs won the game also, so if they thought I said the Cubs and the under, I would have been entitled to even more money) and even had a polite conversation about the Cubbies and the possibility I'd be back to bet them in the World Series and we both had a laugh over that. The Cubs are the only team I follow in baseball, anyone who read my last column (Cubs And Sox, Chicago's Civil Wars), knows I don't follow the Yankees or the Braves, the Dodgers or the Diamondbacks or anyone else in baseball, I wouldn't bother betting anyone else, but Caesar's doesn't know that or couldn't care less. But then to be treated like a second class citizen accused of trying to steal $40 from Caesar's Palace."

"You want a buffet ticket?" This was his answer, to throw me a lousy $12 buffet ticket to shut me up.

"I told you up front, I don't want your money, you think this is going to go away for a lousy buffet ticket after I'm handed the trash can by your manager Mr. Michaels and told to go get my lousy ticket?"

"Yah, well there's nothing I can do." and with that he departs leaving me holding the crumpled ticket and my crumpled pride.

Sure I could say I'll never do business with Caesar's again, I'll never spend any more money there, but that's like telling Donald Trump you refuse to play his nickel slots anymore. This means absolutely nothing to these guys.

So I'm left with the name of the head of casino operations, John Jaggers, to tell my story to. Will he listen; I doubt he'll even take the time to read the column, which I plan on sending him a copy of. I doubt even more that he'd be so bold as to take this incident seriously enough to take the initiative to even acknowledge the event. He's probably too important for little guys like me, but remember one thing, he was once a little guy somewhere, sometime, and what I always keep in mind, whenever dealing with the public that first, treat them as you would want them to treat you, or more, your mother. Even Mr. Jaggers has a momma Jaggers somewhere.

When my mom comes here once a year to visit, I always observe how she's treated by others, (and God help the man who treats my mother the way I was treated) and remember when I deal with people they all have mothers, and if my mom came to Las Vegas, and walked into Caesar's sports book and asked the guy if she could bet $40 on her Cubbies and instead he printed the ticket up for the White Sox instead (God help that man if my mom ever gets a White Sox ticket by mistake), and having failing eyesight, relied on the writer to print up the ticket correctly as she asked, and returned the next day to cash in for her $40 win, I would be outraged if I heard that the sports book manager had accused the poor woman at taking a "shot" for $40 by trying to cash in a mis-printed ticket, then handed my mom the garbage can to go retrieve her own ticket to show the casino manager and told "go get it yourself."

This is the epitome of arrogance, this is the casinos telling us they're more important than their customers. The old adage "The customer comes first" has been changed at Caesar's Palace to "The shift bosses come first then whoever they decide is worth their time comes last." We as customers are done, we're history, they have so much money they couldn't care less about losing one or two of us, we were never important to these guys, unless we had a wad of dough.

You guys do what you want, if you want to deal with a place like that, who takes your importance by the amount of cash in your pocket, you have Caesar's Palace in your future, the future of the city who makes a living off poor suckers like us that aren't professionals and who can easily be taken by these professional cons.

This wasn't just a mistake by the sportswriter, this was an easy mark, they saw me coming and couldn't wait to get their teeth into my measly forty bucks.

And so she showed up, beautifully dressed and looking forward to dinner. I can't tell you the disappointment on hearing this story. She had great memories of Caesar's Palace but agreed that we didn't need to give them any more of our business, and so life goes on, but it wasn't dinner at Nero's Steakhouse in Caesar's, I'm not giving them a shot at any more of my money, they couldn't care less. I don't care who they think they are up there, but rather we had a great dinner at the Mirage's Kokomo Japanese Steakhouse, where we were treated like real people.

Friday night at the casino, I had a talk with the sports book manager and he was beside himself, he couldn't believe the shabby treatment, we all agreed I should have taken the ticket to the nearest hint of light or maybe asked the nearest smoker to pull out his bic lighter so I could even read the ticket, (the sports book at Caesars is pitch black) but also agreed that if I ask for the bet by name and not by number, and the bet is repeated back to me, I should expect it to be printed correctly, these guys are supposed to be professional, not me.

We depend on these people to do their job right (what if I were blind? Would they repeat the bet back to me and print it a different way?) In a casino we demand only one thing, a fair game. We don't demand free drinks or cheap food but we do expect the Roulette dealer to mark the correct number and shouldn't have to watch the wheel to see if they're cheating us, or watch the blackjack dealer to see if he's adding the cards up right and not taking our money when we win or push. We take them at their word that the machines aren't rigged or the cards aren't marked. I stake my reputation on this principal every day I go to work. I repeated this story over and over to many of my players on the tables, and in return I've heard plenty of their own horror stories of shabby treatment at the hands of Caesars as well as a few others.

They will repeat it to their friends and so on and so on, they mostly agreed with me that the casinos are too full of themselves and so far removed from us regular people and in their power and arrogance, they have no regard for the public.

And tomorrow and the day after, the story will be repeated and repeated. It may make no difference to Vinnie Michaels, or the ticket writer, or probably even to Mr. Jaggers, the head of casino operations at Caesar's Palace. But even he has to admit that word-of-mouth goes a long way in this town, and in the last couple of weeks I'm getting my money's worth. Because it does make a difference to me and I count as a human being, maybe not to them, but to my self-respect.

Heed the old adage more than anything else in life, to treat others as you would have them treat you...then if they don't...kick their ass!!!

-Ken Pearlman