Casino Junkie: I've Seen a Hundred Ways to Lose Everything

My name is Zhou Yuanbin, and I’m a junket operator.

In Macau, “junket operator” sounds like a legitimate profession. In truth, we’re parasites on the casinos: we bring in the gamblers, and the casinos give us a cut. The more our clients lose, the more we make.

I’ve been in this business for twelve years. I’ve seen a hundred ways to lose everything.

Some people jumped from the rooftop of the Lisboa after losing it all, with their boat tickets back to the mainland still in their pockets when they hit the ground. Some staked their wives and children at the table, then knelt and begged me for one more chance after losing them. Others, desperate after losing, bit off their own little fingers in front of everyone and signed the table in blood.

The worst off aren’t the people who lose everything.

They’re the ones who’ve won.

Brother Quan taught me that. He was the one who brought me into the business. He’d spent twenty-six years in the casinos, and someone had once chopped off the index and middle fingers of his right hand. They were reattached, but he could never straighten them, so they always formed a twisted “eight.” He held his cigarettes in his left hand and passed out chips with his left. Only when he counted money would he show off those two severed fingers.

“In our line of work, remember one thing: don’t treat the clients like people.” The first time he said that to me, I didn’t understand.

I understood later.

By then, it was too late to get out.

This book is about the people I’ve encountered over twelve years: some are dead, some have gone mad, and some, like me, are still struggling in this mire, with no idea where to go.

I’m not going to tell anyone to quit gambling. Even I wouldn’t believe myself if I said that.

I only want to say this: if you’re determined to sit at a gambling table at least once in your life, read this book.

Look at these people. Look at what happened to them.

Look.