With so many Nevadans terrified of becoming part of the highest unemployment rate in the nation, the rumbling among the rank and file at some Las Vegas resorts is that management by intimidation is running rampant in the Great Recession.
But in his book ÒUnder the Neon Sky: A Las Vegas DoormanÕs Story,Ó author Jay Rankin makes a case that the same approach was used even in the boom years of the 1990s at the Strip resort where he worked.
In anecdote after anecdote, he describes an atmosphere of fear as ingrained in the way the MGM Grand operated from 1993, when it opened as the worldÕs largest hotel, through 1999, when Rankin left.
ÒI once went to a meeting and
¶ÒLas Vegas had
been, for me, pure electricity. The power of Vegas, which for years
had bombarded and excited all my senses, now overwhelmed me. All at once
I was dying from
its side effects.ÓPassage from
ÒUnder the Neon SkyÓ
¶told a supervisor for the bell department that I canÕt handle the harassment, I canÕt handle them threatening my job every day,Ó Rankin said in a recent interview from his home in Los Angeles.
He said he was told that supervisors had to instill an element of fear to keep control and that there was a list of people ready to take his job if he couldnÕt cut it.
ÒThey basically told me, ÔJay, if you canÕt handle the heat, get out of the kitchen,Õ Ó he said.
None of MGM Resorts InternationalÕs army of public relations representatives has read the book, but one of them, Gordon Absher, took a look at the beginning of it.
ÒFrom reading just the first chapter, itÕs obvious that Mr. Rankin is a wonderful fiction writer,Ó Absher said. ÒAfter reading that, there was no need to read any further.Ó
Rankin swears itÕs all true, though.
He said he went over parts of the book with former co-workers and current Strip employees, and Òthey said, ÔWow, heÕs reading my mind, this guy, because I go to work scared every day.Õ ItÕs because of the kind of customers we have.Ó
He said Las Vegas resort work is particularly brutal on housekeeping staffs that have to clean up behind hard-partying guests and have a quota of rooms they have to handle within a particular time frame. But any front-line hotel worker has to do everything possible to keep customers happy, which is especially hard to do when those customers are angry about having lost hundreds or thousands of dollars gambling.
In his book, which was a finalist for a National Indie Excellence Award, Rankin also dwells on how the 24/7 lifestyle that is Las Vegas can be hard on relationships. He blames that environment — the easy access to money, booze and sex and the ÒWhat happens here, stays hereÓ mentality — for those relationship failures.
This passage from the book illustrates his point:
ÒAs recently as the ride to work a few hours before, I craved the energy of this city. I was addicted to the charge, the rush and the drama that surrounded me under the porte-cochere.Ê
ÒLas Vegas had been, for me, pure electricity. The power of Vegas, which for years had bombarded and excited all my senses, now overwhelmed me. All at once I was dying from its side effects.
ÒI could not have been more certain of the crisis if a surgeon had shown me an X-ray of my deteriorating heart, lungs and brain and pointed out the effect of too many years of fearing management. Of choking down my rage at unpredictable guests, mean drunks and vindictive bottom feeders. Of being surrounded by drugs, hookers, noise, smoke and flashing lights. Of feeling helpless in the face of problems at home.Ó
So if his job and Las Vegas were so rough on him, why did Rankin stay for so long? It was all about the money.
He tells many money stories in the book. The generous high rollers who tip well; the found diamond ring that goes unclaimed in lost and found and after several months is turned over to the finder; the bulging pockets full of tips on special-event nights:
He writes: ÒOne morning as I undressed in the locker room, I noticed my thighs were black. ÔHow had I bruised myself so badly without realizing it?Õ I wondered, examining myself. Then I realized the rolls of bills had pressed against my quadriceps all night and stained my skin with greasy dirt from the paper money, coins and chips. It was the color of Vegas money. I tried to wash off the filth, but soap and water hardly made a difference.Ó
He recounts how he squirreled away $10,000 during his years at the MGM Grand — and the book has a very Vegas ending about what happened to that money.
But even though he was able to earn more money here than he could have anywhere else, readers of the book may come away thinking Rankin bears a grudge against the city.
ÒI didnÕt mean for it to be anti-Las Vegas,Ó Rankin said. ÒI love Las Vegas. I really miss it. ItÕs a place that has everything. The place is alive, it really is.
ÒOne of the things I always loved about Las Vegas when I was there is that it really didnÕt matter what color, religion, lifestyle or political affiliation you were,Ó he said. ÒItÕs one of the few places in America that doesnÕt care. Come one, come all ... be who you want to be.Ó
But heÕs worried about whether he would be able to raise his 8-year-old son here. He also knows that the Great Recession has changed a lot of the rules that existed in the 1990s. Rankin blames Las Vegas going corporate for some of its problems.
ÒLas Vegas now is too much about quarterly earnings reports, Wall Street and companies being held accountable by shareholders,Ó Rankin said. ÒItÕs no longer a place where they will give you a meal or a room, and thatÕs what it was known for.Ó
He laments the days when he could relax at the old Desert Inn and sit down and listen to Keely Smith sing jazz in a bar at the center of the casino.
ÒI hope the city can find a way to reinvent itself, thatÕs something that it is really good at,Ó he said. ÒAfter this recession, America is redefining itself and Vegas is going to have to figure out a way to be cozier, a smaller place like the way it was when the mob ran things. They not only remembered your name, but remembered what brand of cigarette you smoked. You always felt special.
ÒToday, they tell you basically how much you would have to play and for how long to be rewarded. Nobody knows your name. To them, you have become just a playerÕs card.ÓA longer version of this story appeared in this weekÕs In Business Las Vegas, a sister publication of the Sun.rick.velotta@lasvegasssun.com / 259-4061
Copyright 2010  Las Vegas Sun
