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have tried to
unionize. A well-publicized but largely failed effort
in 2001 led to 13 Las Vegas casinos being targeted;
eight rejected the union, and of the remaining three,
only New Frontier employees ever got a contract
(widely considered a laughingstock).
Casino card-flippers just can't get a good hand. Only
to a dealer can this latest development look
promising: A Las Vegas shell union partnering with a
transportation union in New York that has, at best, a
spotty record of success in getting dealers organized.
Indeed, the International Union of Gaming Employees'
route toward worker solidarity looks like the
meandering, dotted line on a treasure map.
After Steve Wynn
unveiled a controversial new policy in September of
evening out a pay disparity between managers and
dealers by including certain managers in the
tip-sharing pool, efforts to unionize dealers started
almost immediately.
Capitalizing on
outraged Wynn dealers, the long-dormant International
Union of Gaming Employees began seeking an established
partner to help organize Wynn dealers. First stop: the
Culinary Union. Tony Badillo, president of the IUGE,
said the dealers union's calls weren't returned.
Why no help from the hometown hero? The Culinary's
well-known reluctance to get involved with organizing
dealers is almost legendary. Some call it realpolitik
on part of the Culinary, a bit of prudence in a year
that sees the union going to the negotiating table to
renew contracts for its more than 50,000 members.
Others view it
as a cynical bit of Culinary horse-trading with casino
management, which sees dealers as a special class --
skilled workers from whom a strike could prove much
more troublesome than, say, a bunch of maids waving
signs. The thinking goes something like this: The
Culinary Union doesn't touch dealers, and management
makes life easier at the bargaining table.
"The Culinary is not interested," says Jack Lipsman,
vice president of the IUGE. "The reason is they have
thousands of workers whose interests they must
protect. They have arrangements with casinos, and they
don't want to disturb those arrangements.
I wouldn't call
it a sweetheart deal. It's a business arrangement. I
don't have any ill will toward the Culinary because
they're doing what's best for their people." Culinary
Union Secretary-Treasurer D. Taylor did not return
phone calls.
Next stop: The Teamsters Local 995. The arrangement
went south fast; dealers feel the Teamsters yanked
their chain, flaking out on initial agreements about
card counts before dropping the relationship
altogether. More conspiracy-minded dealers say the
Teamsters were merely publicly flirting with dealers
as a way to flex muscles in sight of management.
But Teamsters
Local 995 officials, who declined to be quoted,
characterized certain dealers as strong-headed,
stubborn and unable to follow direction. Which is
perhaps why the IUGE was also turned down by the
United Auto Workers in New Jersey -- it's busy herding
its own set of cats as it tries to organize card
dealers in Atlantic City casinos.
That issue of dealers' unique nature comes up
repeatedly in discussions of their sorry history of
attempts to unionize. To some, their uniqueness lies
in their status as workers whose skill is a bit more
crucial than, say, that involved in making beds and
pouring iced tea.
"The resorts feel dealers are a special case," says
Lipsman. "Without the dealers, the business goes down
to zero. For example, say all the dealers were to
unionize, and there was a reason to strike the resort.
They'd be out of business. Anyone can make a bed or
dish out a hot dog, but not everyone can deal a
high-limit game."
It's just one factor that feeds the view of dealers as
a special class. Often considered the "lone wolves" of
gaming employees, dealers have to find the right fit
to unionize but often instead find themselves amid a
culture clash.
"They're always kind of on their own," says Albert
Maurice, a dealer at the Mirage involved in organizing
efforts. "They say you couldn't get two dealers to
agree on anything. They're almost like independent
contractors. But [the Wynn tip policy] is one
situation that has really brought the dealers
together. They're united because of it."
But more seasoned observers wonder if that esprit de
corps is going to stick. Oh, not because of any
romantic notions of these lone wolves being forced to
run in a pack against their wild nature, but rather
because corporate casino culture has so molded their
psyches that a united front is near-impossible.
"The problem is they don't agree on anything. You get
five dealers in a room talking about the same subject,
they're gonna argue about it -- and none of them are
gonna be right," says Community College of Southern
Nevada creative writing instructor Lee Barnes.
Barnes dealt
cards for much his 17 years in the casino business,
and wrote a book about it, Dummy Up and Deal: Inside
the Culture of Casino Dealing. "There's a little bit
about working in a casino that breeds paranoia, and
makes it hard for people to trust one another. It's
not a place where people develop deep friendships or
real collegiality, the stuff you associate with other
workplaces."
And that unique frame of mind, observers say, will
require the right kind of union -- which dealers have
yet to find. Andrew Barbano, editor of
www.nevadalabor.com, wonders when the right group will
come along to rattle dealers from the "plantation
mindset" instilled by the industry.
"Dealers are notoriously unfocused and not susceptible
to working together in a coordinated group," Barbano
says. "It's a codependency. They're abused and when
they're being abused, they still know the boss needs
them. It's the battered-wife syndrome. The industry
seems to self-select people who are willing to put up
with that kind of abuse for whatever the perceived
rewards are."
Now that the IUGE is hoping to join up with New York's
Transportation Workers Union -- which declined comment
-- he wonders if the newly energized movement will
fizzle like it did years ago.
"The TWU was like the dog that caught the truck. What
do you do now? You need a union that understands the
dealers, understands the bargaining group, understands
what you do after you catch the truck."
In which case those so-called lone wolves -- or
herd-resistant cats -- may become the casino
workforce's next sleeping lion. |
