What time is it Anyway

‘What time is it?’ She asked, no one in particular, just looking down at her watch, shaking her head in disbelief, and glancing up at the clock on the wall to confirm.

‘Are you kidding me, why is an hour working here taking three hours’ throwing her head down on the bar beside the register, she gave a moan.

These over-night shifts at the bar and gaming room were an absolute killer. If only she had napped earlier today like she normally did before one of these over-night shifts, but no she had chosen to go shopping, have her nails done, have lunch and catch up and drink coffee with her friends. Now while they were all sleeping in their nice warm comfy beds, she was slowly having her life literally sucked out of her body, mind and soul. She spent her nights or days watching gambling addicts lose their money. They would barely acknowledge her presence as she offered complimentary drinks and food, hour after hour, in her friendliest manner. There was Larry and Mary, slapping away, looking like they didn’t have a bean between them, but here they were pumping in the hundreds every night. Rumour had it they were actually rolling in money, if that was true, they hid it well. They usually arrived about 10pm and stayed until close. Where they got their money from, she had no idea. Therese says it’s drugs, but Therese says that about everyone.

Lonnie took off the big one a few weeks ago. Over fifty grand, but he was back the next night pumping it back in, she was happy he won because he gave her a $100 tip. Licensee was happy because most of it would go back into the venue.

Kath and Sam, who suspiciously had a very strong family resemblance, they had at least eight kids, they were there more nights than not, pumping in hundreds perhaps even thousands whilst their kids were sleeping, she wondered if the kids had enough food and everything else, they needed or did, they suffer because of their parents' addiction. This made her sad and she often questioned if in some way she was enabling them somehow, just by working there. She had been watching and thinking for a lot of years now and her belief was that addiction didn’t have a preference, it chose anyone, old, young, male and female. It took them all and was happy to destroy everything they had. It would take their homes, family, jobs and often their very souls.

Some nights working there were ok, the time flew by, but not like tonight though, as she checked her watch again for the time. ‘What’s the go with this time, are we caught in a freeze time zone ‘she asked of no one in particular’ No one raised their heads from there machines, no one acknowledged that she had spoken. They just continued to tap tap tap.

She sometimes just felt sorry for these lost and lonely souls, as they wandered in at their predestined time day in day out. Other nights were just plain awful when the place was full of junkies and feral people with their handfuls of dirty coins, they had collected from God knows where, to cash in for a note to play the machines. She was sure they were often there just for the complimentary free food and drinks, probably the only sustenance they had for days. They were often rude, unwashed and other times just totally shattered in the mind, most times harmless. Not like the drunks, them she couldn’t stand. They were obnoxious, loud and argumentative, especially if they were losing. Fists banging the machine buttons, swearing and shouting abuse to everything and everyone around them blaming them as to why they were losing. Some regular's other times just blow ins. If there was a decent security guard on at that time, the situation would quickly be resolved and everyone would go about their business of loosing money, but if it was one or two particular security guards, then we had a problem, things would often escalate to police involvement. It didn’t help that these particular ones were way too friendly with some of the patrons. Slip of the hand, passing God only knew what to keep their mouths closed.

The problem with some of the guards, particularly one or two of them, who had been working there a long time, was it was near impossible to get them to put down their phones and answer the radio call when we made it. Eventually dragging their massive bulk, jiggling as they swaggered in. No hurry about them. Yes, their huge size could be a deterrent, but if running was involved then more likely the guard would have needed emergency CPR.

She questioned herself regularly as to why she worked at this particular low life establishment. She decided that in time it just came down to, you just get too old to be bothered to change careers. She had been doing this kind of work for most of her working life. Some nice expensive 5-star places to dingy places like this one. She had started her career a long time ago in a similar establishment, not as bad as this one as a shit kicker, then moved on and up to be a manager then licensee of other places and now she was back to a shit kicker at this dingy dive. Life had made for her changing jobs over the years, jobs that couldn’t or wouldn’t cater for the time she needed to care for bury and grieve for dying family members. So, the life of a shit kicker was her preference to finish out her few years until retirement, all with no responsibilities or expectations. The job was literally around the corner from her house. Her work mates were on the whole a pretty funny bunch, easy going and friendly. The problem was she was old and tired. The government deemed her too young to retire and she was too poor to quit. So here she stood 5 nights or days a week watching poor souls losing their money, for the sake of either addiction, loneliness or even just plain boredom. It was a sad existence for her and them both.

The end