Never Too Old to Be a Summer Intern at an Atlantic City Casino

She was one of Atlantic City oldest casino, and those of your who know the business will figure it out, but I want to be fair to the grand ole dame, for she was good to me.

I landed the summer internship, old for one at 51 none the less, starting July 11, 2009. The need was there, so I worked four days before my job orientation.

I was a newspaper writer/editor by trade, but after termination of said job, I changed careers, went to culinary school and started working shortly after school at the casino.

I worked various shifts, including 3 to 11 p.m., noon to 7 p.m., 1 to 9 p.m., but mostly 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. I liked the early shift. I got used to getting up at 5 a.m., groggy, but awake by 6 a.m., after showering and leaving the house no later than 6:15 a.m.

If I got to the billboard ad of comedian Bill Engvall's upcoming show at my casino by 6:30 a.m., just inside city limits on Route 30, I knew I would get to work on time.

The pay was not great, but the amenities were awesome. I would park on property, still with a 5-10 minute walk to the wardrobe department. There I would go pick up my uniform for the day, via conveyor belt, and go to the dressing room to get changed.

Down two-and-a-half flights of steps, clock in, get my tools and go to the back braziers inside the large, wide open main kitchen.

On most days I would greet Bobby or Mark. Bobby was a light-skinned African American man in his late 30s to early 40s and Mark was a 26-year-old white man.

I would check the menu, unload carts and get stuff and assist Bobby. I usually cooked the vegetables, while Bobby, the relief cook, made everything from sauces, macaroni and cheese and veal ragout and more.

Sometimes at 9:30 a.m., just before I had to prepare for the cafeteria to open at 11 a.m. and the buffet at 11:30 a.m., Bobby would send me on an unusual errand for some, usual to the kitchen, but still a "gofer" job.

"Hey," I would say to a room service attendant on my way back from the storeroom. "Wanna go party?"

I was carrying either a bottle of Jack Daniels, Tequila or Marsala wine for Bobby to make a sauce.

At 10:30 a.m., it was time for me to rock 'n' roll. Start the water for vegetables and sometimes make special things, like ginger glazed carrots or candied beets. A slurry, water and corn startch, mixed slowly into a rolling boil, would make the dish "tighter" as Bobby liked to say.

"They look good," Bobby would shout to me. "Pan it up."

Soon enough the runners for the cafeteria and buffet would be asking for the veggies.

By 11:30 a.m. to 11:45 a.m. or noon, the rush would be over. The food was cooked for the buffet and cafeteria and prepared and sent out on time. Lunch time for me.

The rest of the days would be prepping, but on weekends, I ran the fryer or the front ovens.

I liked the fryer. Items included fried shrimp, deviled clams, chicken wings and fried fish. Yum. I would "taste" them for doneness and freshness.

It is a good thing I was on my feet for nearly the whole eight hour shift, because I would sample the food I cooked, Bobby's soup and on weekends, my fried items. Then I ate a full hot lunch in the cafeteria. Free. Another benefit.

As the summer wore on and mid-August approached, talk of whether I would continue fulltime started to grow. Just among the employees.

"They will probably keep you on," said Bennie, the room service cook. "They usually do."

That, I found out, was in the past.

Chef Jon told me that I would be working the fryers on the Saturday and Sunday on Labor Day weekend, but no word of Monday, Labor Day.

A week later, I found out. No one said anything, but I looked on the schedule the Monday before Labor Day. I wasn't on it past the Sunday before Labor Day.

I asked Chef Paul about it and he only said: "The summer season has ended."

The Sunday before the Labor Day holiday was my last day.

A few days into my last week, the executive chef came through the back. In the beginning of the summer on my hiring day, he told me that Atlantic City had become a seasonal resort again, with the opening of the casinos in Pennsylvania.

"Chef," I said, stopping him in his tracks. "I wanted to thank you for the opportunity to work here."

He thanked me and said not much else in response until my last day when I was working the fryer.

"It was a pleasure to have you and if anything opens up, we will call you back," the chef said to me.

A few days after Labor Day, I returned my parking pass and badge. I only person I saw two days after Labor Day was the guy in personnel that I knew.

Just an aside. Federal Reserve chairman Ben Benanke declared the recession over in the past week.

Bal-on-knee, but alot of cheese. Government cheese.

A report from Newjerseynewsroom.com by reporter Tom Hester Sr., said that operating profits for the resorts 11 casinos for the second quarter totaled $198.4 million for the three-month period compared to $247.3 million for the same quarter last year. Summer figures have not come in, but I don't expect much gain, more likely a loss.

Today, September 23, a beautiful first day of fall, I went to unemployment to straighten my claim out.

They answered my questions and told me I had to get four pay stubs from the casino, including my last pay.

The chef on duty would usually hand me my pay stub on Sunday, but I didn't get the last two.

After unemployment, I went to the casino around 2 to 2:30 p.m. This is a down time, even in the summer. The early shift, 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. has left and the 3 to 11 p.m. has not gotten in yet.

Bennie stood in front of a full receipts of room service order, but at the moment, was deadly slow.

"We had a banquet earlier, but it is dead right now," Bennie said. I saw a stack of room-service receipts in the basket behind him. Probably from the whole week and this was Wednesday.

I asked about the weekend. In the summer, we jammed. Not like the old days, when buffet would do 8,000 meals on a Saturday. We topped out this summer at about 2,000 meals.

"Last weekend was dead," he said.

Another seasoned, don't mind the pun, worker told me on my last day that I shouldn't come back. A 10 percent cut across all departments was looming, which meant more work for those remaining. Well, maybe.

I told Bennie I would come back next summer if nothing happened in the meantime.

I doubt it.

I might get a cooking job at a neighboring casino or at a restaurant on the mainland.

I went down the elevator and headed up the Boardwalk to greet what was left of the beautiful day.

And the Grand Dame. She is still beautiful.